Bandit

Stephen and Bandit

It was a cold morning driving to Mom's house. A few tears were shed. I was feeling quilty, telling myself I could have done more. Once there, I got out and was met by a cold chilling Texas wind. Knocking on the door, I greeted my Mother, "Good Morning Mom." Mom replied, "She is in the back Son. I found her that way this morning." I walked through the kitchen and out the back door. She was laying just a few feet away. That moment has forever been frozen in my mind. Everything seemed so serene. The dry frosted grass cradled her, as a light wind whipped her fur about. She seemed so at peace. As I stood gazing at her, for a few precious minutes, the rest of the world left us. It was just Bandit and I, alone with my thoughts. Kneeling beside her I took her in my arms. She was still warm. I carried her out behind the shed, lay her down, and grabbed a shovel. With each thrust of the shovel into the cold hard ground, thoughts of Bandit kept spilling forth. She got her name from stealing socks out of the laundry basket as a puppy, plus she wore that black mask Mother Nature had given her. She was a Norwegian Elkhound. Bandit loved to chase rabbits. She use to walk me to work, and be back there at quitting time to walk me home. One day she didn't show to walk me home. Concerned, I ran home to find her in the yard carrying a lifeless puppy. She had given birth. Bandit layed the pup at my feet. Picking the pup up I could see those relentless Texas fire ants had got to it. Bandit was also covered with ant bites. Here eyes searched mine as if she was asking if anything could be done. I just took here in my arms and told her, "No Bandit, you did everything you could. I will take it from here." Searching the yard, I found another five pups that had met the same fate. Bandit had frantically moved her pups everywhere trying to keep them from the ants. I had not seen this one coming. I let my dog down that day. I buried her pups with her looking on, and now I am burying her. I always bury my own. Taking her in my arms for the last time I gently lay Bandit in her final resting place. With one last look at Bandit, I began covering her up with one shovel full of dirt at a time, until I could see her no more, all the while remembering times spent with her, and how she was the bright spot that helped me make it through some tough times during that part of my life. Kneeling by her graveside, I said a prayer. Then I stood up and leaned on the shovel handle trying to catch my breath in that icy cold Texas air. Wiping the tears from my face, I came to realize she had been appropriately named. Bandit had not only stolen those socks from the laundry basket. She had stolen a piece of my heart as well. I want her to be remembered and by writing this and sharing it, she will be long after I am gone. Such is the power of words. Bandit didn't necessarily change my life, as much as she helped me live it.