Wonderful MacGregor

 Here is a true story about a beloved dog published in the Westport, Ontario paper.  This is my way to introduce you to my writings.  I have a lot more to share.  Please comment.

                         “THE  DOG WHO REFUSED TO GO HOME”

                                                  

            It all began in late May.  MacGregor, a 90 pound black Lab, arrived with our son and his family for the long weekend.  Since we live on Sand Lake on the Rideau, MacGregor immediately headed for the water.  He has visited us enough to smell the fish and frogs two kilometers down Ritz Road as he bounces along the gravel lane.  Usually “Mac” leaps from the car and before the kids release from their car seats, he heads for the beach.  He instinctively knows his job is to clean the shallow water of sticks and stones which he neatly carries in his mouth out of the water and deposits them in a pile alongside weeds.  He’s very good at his job and would work 24/7 if we let him.

            In order to understand Mac, you have to know about his family situation.  (Just like humans.)  Sharing the dog population at our son’s home is a huge 140 lb. St. Bernard.  Whatever possessed them to acquire that gentle giant, I can’t figure.  But, next to large and intimidating Mac, Gus comes on like a friendly bulldozer. 

            To complete the canine population here at the lake, we own a lovable, but not too smart, chocolate Lab named Bonnie, who easily stands full height underneath the wooley mammoth Gus.  What a marvelous trio of brawn, hair, licks and smells.  The grandkids can ride Gus, toss sticks and balls for Mac and romp in the grass with Bonnie.

            The shift in dog homes occurred suddenly at the end of that May weekend.  Our son and his wife had packed all their stuff in their oversized SUV, the four kids  belted in.  Gus stepped into the rear and filled the space.  Then came the command. 

            “C’mon, Mac, hop in!” 

            No response.  No leap for the car.  Instead, Mac purposely turned his body away from his family, lay down on our porch and looked at our front door.

            Again the command,  “Mac, come!”

            Mac would not move.  His head rested on his front paws.

            “Mac, come!”, the command more urgent.

            No sound, no move, only now Mac’s eyes gazed imploringly at my husband.

            The two of us looked at each other and smiled.  “Oh, Mac can stay with us a few weeks.  That’s OK.” 

            We began laughing at the power play that Mac was winning.

            Finally, it was agreed.  Mac would stay “for a few weeks” until their next visit.  As the car drove down our lane, Mac stood up, looked up at my husband, brushed against his side and wagged his tail.  Mac had chosen a new master. 

            Bonnie took this new family addition all in stride and we discovered several bonuses in having Mac around. Since Bonnie is somewhat lacking in intelligence (she probably ranks barely trainable), Mac has become her excellent tutor.  For example, Mac politely waits to be invited into the house.  Bonnie used to barge right in, usually pushing the door and me but recently she has become a bit more polite.  Mac is obedient to his commands and Bonnie now follows his role-modeling. 

            Labor Day weekend has come and gone.  The “few weeks” have turned into three months and since Mac is nine years old, we’ve all agreed he can retire with us.  Here he roams free on our eighteen acres, swims in water that is never too cold and excitedly rides the fishing boat feeling the wind flap his ears.  Mac doesn’t have to tolerate the drooling massive Gus and instead has chosen the prestigious role as Bonnie’s tutor.  Mac loves the rural life and devotedly follows behind the tractor or ATV, knowing everyday is a new adventure.  There’s grouse to chase, snakes to guard, fish to tease.  Mac knows he’s in paradise!  Why should he go home?  He’s discovered a new, and I will admit, a better home!

Janet Baird Weisiger – September, 2008