By Oliver T. Cook
BridgeTower Media Newswires
Our last dog, Samson, died in June 2019, a month short of age 13. Because we've always had dogs, the search was on for another rescue mutt. My wife spent hours on PetFinder.com, a site that features shelter pets all over the United States.
While perusing Great Dog Rescue of New England, she found some possibilities and printed out a half-dozen sheets, leaving them on the kitchen table. The following morning, when I spotted "Brent," a yellow Lab/cattle dog mix, I scrawled across the top: My kind of guy! Fortunately, he was her kind of guy, too.
We contacted the organization and proceeded to fill out applications and undergo screenings, interviews and in-person visits. Finally, with the adoption certificate signed, Brent began his journey home. With seven other dogs onboard, he left Kosciusko, Mississippi (hometown of Oprah Winfrey), in a truck, arriving at Andover Animal Hospital three days later.
As we'd only seen a fuzzy photo, we didn't know what to expect. Brent was estimated to be around 5 years old. From the photo, we thought he'd be medium-size, like a corgi. However, when the vet-tech led the 75-pounder to the visitors' area where we waited, I gasped, "He's a big dude!"
On the ride home, he sat in the back seat, looking shell-shocked. We later learned that prior to his long trip from the Deep South, he'd been living in a kennel with 50 other dogs. An elderly veterinarian had taken in pets whose owners didn't want or couldn't keep them. Their numbers grew, and when the old vet died, Great Dog Rescue stepped in.
We also learned his name wasn't Brent, but Bailey. Because there were other Baileys at the kennel, they had renamed him. As Bailey is a popular dog name, we decided to call him Lionel. He appears to approve.
His first day with us, I took him for a walk downtown. We stopped at the metal biscuit box affixed to the outside of a local restaurant. When I removed a doggie bone from the box, Lionel looked amazed at this magic trick. I knew he was smart when the following day he made a beeline for the biscuit box.
A couple of days later, we sat on the bench in front of the post office. A souped-up red pickup truck came to a clattering stop in front of us. Before going inside, the driver said, "I've got one of those."
When he came out, I asked, "One of what?"
He pointed to Lionel. "Cattle dog."
He said his was from Alabama. I would often hear that comment. Apparently Massachusetts is a mecca for unwanted dogs from the South; many are cattle dogs called "heelers." The breed nips the heels of the livestock they're herding, thus the name. Lionel, a sound sleeper who snores so loudly the floor vibrates, must have been an unemployed cattle dog.
Along with sleeping, he loves riding in the back seat of my car, listening to my '50s play list: Fats Domino, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis. Early in the morning, in line at Starbucks on Elliott Street, he sticks his head out the back window, hoping for a treat. The baristas call out, "Hi Lionel!" He glances at me, wondering how they know his name. Driving away, I hear, "He's sooo cute!" People often mention his good looks, unique markings, and what we call his "Don Knotts" eyes.
Without a doubt, Lionel's favorite day is Sunday. That's when he accompanies me to the drive-in service at St. John's Episcopal Church in Beverly Farms. When the Revs. George Stevens and Sarah Brock deliver communion, circulating among the cars, he sits up straight, anticipating the forthcoming dog biscuit.
While Lionel's past history was undoubtedly troubled, he's got a good life today. In his uncomplicated acceptance, Lionel demonstrates to us a lesson in trust.
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Beverly Farms, MA, attorney Oliver T. Cook has been practicing law for 57 years. He can be contacted at OliverAtty@comcast.net.
