Dog Stories: Remembering the Yellow Dog
Izzy was our sweet yellow dog. She’s been gone nearly 10 years, but sometimes it feels like she’s by my side still. Here’s what I remember and treasure about Izzy:
Izzy was our first rescue dog. She was found at the pound in Cincinnati by Susan and Jonathan.
They found her on the “private side” of the pound, a place for dogs that weren’t technically up for adoption. Why was she there? Because the staff loved her so much. They wanted to keep her around.
While in the pound, she had puppies. I’ve often wondered what they looked like. All were adopted out before we adopted Izzy.
We called Izzy our Labrador Non-Retriever. She would not fetch, even if you wrapped bacon around the ball. If you gave her a chew toy or bone, instead of playing with it, she’d bury it in the backyard and immediately forget where she buried it.
When we adopted Izzy, she a year or two old. She joined Lydia, our Bichon Frise. Izzy recognized Lydia as her elder, almost treating her like a mom. She became Lydia’s “follower,” which led her on some interesting adventures.
For a time after Lydia died, Izzy was an “only dog.” Then we brought Daisy, another Bichon, into our home. Now the roles were reversed with Daisy bonding to Izzy as her mother figure. I think Izzy may have felt this was doggy deja vu.
Izzy never ran away. She did walk away a couple of times but always came back.
Izzy liked to bask in the sun, especially as she got older. We used to speculate that the warm sun felt good on her bones.
When Izzy was happy, she would roll on her back and yowl.
She was a big dog who liked small spaces and could sometimes be found sleeping under the buffet table or in a laundry basket.
Scared by the sound of thunder, Izzy would seek shelter in the bathtub.
Izzy likely saved our lives when a stranger entered our gate and approached our backdoor late one night. A quiet, gentle dog, she possessed a fierce bark and protective nature when she felt her pack was threatened.
She was my favorite moon-watching companion. Sometimes when I go out at night now, I wonder if she’s watching me watch the moon.
I’ve written dozens of yellow dog poems about Izzy. I hope to collect and publish them one day.
I miss Izzy, our old yellow dog.
