Do you ever think about things from your past? Not the great things. Not even the good things. I am talking about those things in your past that you regret.
This is the story of Digger and Bandit.
Digger was our first dog. She was a black lab that we got sometime when I was very little. I think it was sometime before I started kindergarten. I am fairly certain Adam was very small when we got her. I can remember playing with her as a puppy in the kitchen. As she grew though, she got two big for the house and eventually Dad built her a dog pen.
Yeah, we were one of those families. We kept our dog outside. Before you judge us, it was the 1980s, pretty much everyone kept a dog outside. And Dad always made sure she had plenty of straw and when it was cold we did bring her inside.
A few years later we got Bandit. He was a little mutt and he lived in the house. We were not the best at house training and he would poop on the floor all the time. Eventually my mom had enough of it and Bandit was forced outside too.
Growing up, one of my chores was feeding the dogs. I had to take food down to Digger. Her dog house was at the bottom of the hill. If it was dark out, I would run down and just toss the food. I feel like half the time it had to end up on the ground.
That is something that I feel awful about to this day. But it gets worse. I have no clue how Digger died. I remember her being pretty old and I think she was sick. If I remember correctly, she may have broke her chain and went off into the woods to die.
Bandit passed away when I was in college…I think. I vaguely remember Dad letting me know and I did not feel anything and I blew it off. UGHHH. I hate myself for that.
I wish we had played with Digger more. Since Bandit lived in the house for so long, we played with him a good bit. Dad even taught him how to beg. But Digger just spent her time, down in her pen, just being sad. I know that Dad would give her attention before he went to work and when he came home. Although, thinking back on it, I wonder if he made those trips down there so he could smoke a cigarette?
Seriously, the other night I was in bed, thinking about Digger and Bandit. Samson was cuddling against me and I do not know what made me think of them, but I started thinking about how I was a crappy owner. It actually made me cry. Just thinking of all the times I just went past Digger, never stopping to pet her or play with her. She had to be so sad and lonely down there.
I cannot go back in time and fix those mistakes. All I can do is move forward. Treat Samson well and love him.
