Fred’s Thanksgiving Gift
This story is about neighbors who live two doors down from me here in Hot Springs Village…and it also includes my beloved late mini-dachshund, Fred.
It was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving and Sue and John Bayless had company—including two small grandchildren from Chicago. Sue is the lady with aphasia I sit with and care for when her husband needs to run errands or just needs a break from his care giving. Should you not know, aphasia is a form of dementia akin to Alzheimer’s which mainly attacks the person’s speech and sense of balance. Sue’s case has advanced since this story was written. It now effects her other senses, including her sight and she requires constant care. She recognizes her husband and me and her little dog, “ Sweetie”.
The Tuesday night their daughter’s family arrived, one of the grandchildren left the front door open and Sweetie escaped all the unusual commotion inside her house. On Wednesday John delivered fliers with Sweetie’s picture to neighbors on our street as well as to the neighborhood on the other side of the cove. No one had seen her.
Later that afternoon, I put Fred in his harness and we began our usual afternoon walk. Yet when we reached the top of the driveway, he put his nose to the ground and turned left instead of to the right which leads to our regular route.
Don’t bother trying to convince me dogs don’t understand what’s going on within their human families. He had been present earlier when several of us had gathered in the Bayless yard to greet Leigh Ann, their visiting daughter, and find out the latest news on Sweetie. Leigh Ann was explaining to those who didn’t know the dog well that Sweetie was friendly but skittish, especially about approaching people. One of the grandchildren kept trying to pet her the day before only to see her run and hide.
Back to our afternoon walk…as we reached the crest of the hill, Fred’s nose suddenly became GLUED to the ground as he swept the grass back and forth with his dime-sized nose and began to trot. He was clearly on the trail of something, perhaps one of the many chipmunks that haunt the area near the lake. Within a minute he was straining against the leash, trying to run. I found it hard to keep up with this 9-pound little rascal.
When we rounded the corner onto Murillo Way, Fred went straight to the new house under construction. He plowed through dirt, trash and splatters of congealed mortar and paint and entered the open garage. We checked it out together, his nose searching the concrete floor until he headed for the smaller opening in the back that accessed the back yard.
Sure enough, hovering there between two piles of scrapped sheetrock stood a quivering Sweetie. I spoke her name but she would not come to me. Not having my cell phone with me, I went up to the door of the neighboring house and explained the situation to the person who answered the door. The man allowed me to use their phone to call the Bayless household.
John was there in a flash and Sweetie ran right into his arms. Fred and I got in the car with them and we drove back to their home where a confused Sue (I call her “Sue-B.”) was sitting in her recliner. When we came closer, her usual non-expression broke into a smile and she cried out a sound that meant “SWEETIE”!
She was still holding the little dog when I left to go home. John followed us to the door and reached into his pocket for a treat he had carried with him… just like YOU, Leonard Haynie! He offered it to Fred who gobbled it down as he would any edible offered to him and John said, “Thank you, Freddy Boy, you have just made our Thanksgiving.”
What is strange to me is how Fred could possibly know what was going on--that his little dog friend was missing, and that he knew his assignment from the moment we started out on our walk. And he accomplished the assignment.
I have two plaques in my house that I treasure. One given to me by my little neighbor in La Grange reads, “Dogs are some of the best people I know” and the other reads, “If you are loved unconditionally, thank a dog.”
I have many, many things to be thankful for this year and one of them is the memory of my Fred coming to the rescue and calming my “Sue-B” who did not know how to verbally express her grief and then her relief. I continue to spend time with her each week. I am also thankful for my health. I am thankful for all my senses. I am thankful I do not need a care giver, too.
Brenda Miles is a former La Grange resident now living in Hot Springs Village, Arkansas. Her new e-mail address is: brenstar61@gmail.com