My Furry Family

Goose

Some dogs come into your life in the most unexpected ways. Goose certainly did.

After Hurricane Andrew devastated South Florida, Scott was driving through one of the affected areas when he accidentally ran over what looked like a tiny puppy.

He was horrified, sure he’d killed him. But when he looked underneath the truck, there was the puppy. Alive!

This little fellow had already survived one of the most destructive hurricanes in history, the flooding that followed, and now a terrifying encounter with a truck.

Apparently, Goose wasn’t finished with this world.

And that’s how Goose became part of my husband’s life, many years before our paths would cross.

When I met Goose, he was already an old gentleman, somewhere around thirteen or fifteen years old, and his health was declining. The veterinarian gave him about six months to live.

I’ve always believed in a holistic approach to health, and naturally, I extended that same care to Goose.

Those six months? Goose lived to be twenty-one years old!

Even toward the very end, when his back legs could no longer carry him, his playful spirit remained untouched. We got him a little wheelchair, and off he went, happily cruising around our huge Texas yard, enjoying life.

But Goose had always loved the ocean. After all, he was a Florida boy at heart.

So, near the end of his life, we decided he deserved one more trip to the beach.

Since he could no longer walk, we adapted a piece of luggage into his personal transportation and drove all the way from Waxahachie to the Houston area, just so Goose could swim in the Gulf of Mexico.

And swim he did!

We carried him to the water, let him enjoy his beloved ocean, dried him off, and tucked him back into his traveling luggage.

Goose lived a wonderfully long life. And even when his legs could no longer keep up, his love for life never left him.

Junior

Junior - A Piece of My Soul

Some animals find their way into your home. Others find their way into your heart. And then, once in a lifetime, there comes one who seems to become part of your very soul.

For me, that was Junior.

Junior was a beautiful chocolate English Cocker Spaniel, from field lines, with an extraordinary mind and eyes that seemed to understand everything.

I could talk to Junior as though I were talking to another person. And I swear, he understood every word. He didn’t need to speak. His eyes said everything.

He was incredibly intelligent, independent, and just mischievous enough to keep life interesting.

In Michigan, he absolutely adored the snow. Watching him play in it was pure joy.

In Florida, however, Junior had a different passion: freedom.

You could secure the gate, check it twice, and feel quite pleased with yourself. Junior would simply find another way out.

He had places to go, things to investigate, and apparently a schedule of his own.

And when his adventures were complete, he would come home.

That was Junior. A free spirit with a mind of his own.

But there was something else about him that I still struggle to put into words.

Junior’s story is deeply intertwined with the stories of people in my life. Some of those stories are beautiful. Others are heartbreaking. Perhaps one day I’ll tell them.

For now, I want to remember Junior for who he was.

And yet, even that is difficult, because Junior was never just a dog to me.

He was a connection. Between people, between hearts, perhaps even between things we cannot fully understand.

I always felt there was a special connection between Junior and my mother.

When my elderly mother came to visit us in Texas, she was dealing with skin cancer on her nose. Around that time, Junior was also battling cancer in his lungs.

We were using laser-frequency treatments as part of Junior’s care, and my mother would hold him during his sessions. The light also reached her face.

Within days, we saw something astonishing. The affected area on her nose appeared to heal. We were all shocked by what we saw. Good thing I was taking pictures. Otherwise, now, years later, telling this story, I wouldn’t believe it myself.

There is so much of my life wrapped up in Junior. When I think of him, I don’t simply remember a dog. I feel an entire world of emotions, memories, people, and connections that words cannot begin to contain. Even today, thinking about him brings tears to my eyes.

Sometimes I look at Duke, my dog today, and feel something so familiar that I wonder whether Junior has found his way back to me.

But some connections are felt so deeply that they don’t seem to belong to just one lifetime.

Junior, my love.

Bubba

Bubba - The Gentleman Who Chose Us

It was a Friday evening, just around sunset. We were driving to the movies along Highway 66 near the famous Scarborough Faire in Waxahachie, Texas, when we spotted a dog walking toward us on the side of the road.

Of course, we stopped.

Now, most stray dogs require a little convincing. You approach gently, speak softly, perhaps offer some food, and hope they’ll trust you enough to come closer.

Not Bubba.

We opened the car door, and he climbed right in, as if to say, “Well, what took you so long? I’ve been waiting!”

No hesitation. No introductions. Apparently, he had decided we were his people, and that was that.

He was a Basset Hound, with those wonderfully long ears, short legs, funny outward-pointing paws, and a face full of character.

He was also absolutely filthy. His white-and-brown coat was so covered in fleas that there seemed to be more black than white!

We took him home, gave him a much-needed bath, treated the fleas, and brought him to the veterinarian as soon as we could.

Unfortunately, Bubba came with quite a collection of medical problems. He had heartworms and enormous lumps all over his body. He needed serious medical attention.

So we got to work.

The tumors were removed, his heartworms were treated, and before long, Bubba was ready to begin his new life.

And what a life it was!

Bubba absolutely loved living on our Texas ranch. He was extraordinarily intelligent, fiercely independent, and had a mind entirely his own.

He wasn’t the kind of dog who needed someone to tell him what to do. Bubba had his own opinions about things, thank you very much.

And somehow, that made him even more lovable.

He spent many wonderful years with us, enjoying his freedom and the wide-open spaces of Texas, until he became a very old gentleman and his time finally came.

I still smile remembering that Friday evening.

We thought we were going to the movies.

Bubba had other plans.

And apparently, we were the best thing on his agenda.

Molly

Molly - Forever Our Sweet Girl

Molly came to us during a cold February in Texas, just after we’d moved onto our land.

Along the fence, two young Pointer mixes huddled day after day, shivering, nearly hairless against the cold—one white with black spots, the other mostly black.

We learned they weren’t getting the care they needed, and no one stepped in.

One day, my husband saw a metal rod attached to a collar, trying to keep them from escaping. We spoke up. Nothing changed. Finally, he couldn’t stand it and brought them to us.

We rushed them to emergency care, but her brother was too sick. We couldn’t save him.

We couldn’t give him the life he deserved, but we could give Molly hers.

And what a sweet girl she turned out to be.

Pink sweaters, warm jackets, little boots—she absolutely refused the cold.

She even learned to jump rope with us. I still have a video.

When Mikayla was born, Molly became her little guardian—gentle, protective, and watchful.

She spent years wrapped in the warmth she was once denied.

That’s how I remember her: our beautiful, gentle, playful Molly.

Forever our sweet girl.

⸻