Emmett's Story

I've been wanting to write this for a few days. Many know snippets of the story, but few know the entire story. I actually don't know the first year of the story myself.

I first met Emmett on September 7, 1996, when I stopped by the Petco in North Davis to get some cat supplies. It was a Saturday morning, and they were holding their SPCA placement event. I had just moved to a little house in Woodland and now had the option of owning a dog, but I wasn't looking for one yet, but Emmett caught my eye and I stopped to read his card. Before I could think any further, a volunteer called Ian with a thick Aussie accent brought a leash over and told me he was perfect for me. he told me that this was a working breed, one that would never dig around the yard, yip or every misbehave. That he was already one year old, so he was housebroken and his temperament was already set. His steady flow of verbage never left room for reluctance on my part. A little dumbfounded and just to please Ian, I took Emmett for a walk. I was using what my friend Jen had taught me, looking for Emmett to make eye contact as we went, then rolling him onto his back to see if he would be submissive. I was going to put him back in his pen so I could sleep on it, until Ian said that I had 30 minutes before he would probably get adopted. I panicked a little. I drove like a maniac, rang who I could for advice , but good job Ian, I came back and picked up Emmett. I was still in shock that evening at the thought I now had a dog.

The first weekend was great. Here was this adolescent gangly dog who followed me everywhere. He didn't fetch very well until I started trading him for treats, and right there he became a lifetime catcher. Then the weekdays came. Coming home from work that Monday, I discovered the meaning of separation anxiety. He had chewed through the back door to get into the house. I moved quickly into learning about crate training. And that's when my 9-5 life began: I now had to get my work done in 8-hour spans to free Em from this crate.

Then we signed up for dog obedience with the Experimental College. It wasn't long before Em emerged as a star. Another lesson in discipline (for me, not for him): never letting him off-leash when going out, practicing moves everyday... But watching his joy at the work and the relationship was addictive! The following spring, Emmett started coming to the barn with me.

I signed Em up for the frisbee competition at Picnic Day that year, and found out a little more about his past. As we were watching other competitors, a little brown and white Aussie Shep was making Emmett crazy in a way I'd never seen, until the little dog's owner came over and asked, "is that Emmett?" I found out here was the person who had fostered Emmett several months before he was placed. As it turns out, Em had been in placement for a slow couple of months before I came along (yeah Ian)! Other than that, I know very little. I know Emmett was missing half his tail, which either came from a bad docking job or getting run over the tail. I know the sight or sound of a gun sent Emmett cowering. Whatever it was, it was not good.

Over the years, Em just melded into every thread of the fabric of my life. He came along to everything I could bring him to, the mountains, the beach, lakes, rivers, fishing, sledding, car camping, and countless trips to the barn. He happily found his place in any situation. He knew to stop at the gate to the riding arena and stay put, watching me for the sign we were done. He knew to get on top of the bags in the moving truck for the drive across the country. He knew to curl into the wind flap of the tent for the night. As we got older and slowed down, we weren't doing things together so much as simply being together. This is not going to be a complete story, there are hundreds of memories, anecdotes, and luckily, photos too.

Along the 11 years we had together, everyone who met Emmett had special affection and stories about him, right up to his last days. When he almost died last year, I knew we were on reprieve and still the last year we bought was not enough. The first weeks after surgery, then chemo, he was severely slowed down. Then came Spring and everyone noticed he was like a new dog, he was happy, playful, maybe not as quick but hey, he was 12. The photo below was from a walk we took not one week before he left us. He certainly left on a high note. But I had a hunch something was up. He started occasionally not wanting to eat. He was drinking huge quantities of water. He sometimes didn't hear us calling.

The evening before he left, he was spry as ever as Mike took him for his walk. He ate well. But in the morning, we found he couldn't seem to get up. It looked just like the symptoms of his splenic hemorrhage of last year, I was bracing myself already. Mike loaded him up for the vet's office, and they quickly confirmed his liver was probably bleeding out, that it would be fair to let him go.

Fair yes, but so very hard, and I'm afraid I haven't yet.