Izzy, Our First Rescue, She Saved Us and Almost Outlived Us

Izzy, our first rescue who also rescued us. Mike Barzacchini photo.

Izzy, a yellow-lab mix, was our first rescue dog. Susan and Jonathan found her at a shelter in Cincinnati. We brought her home when Jonathan was two. He grew up with Izzy.

Izzy was a gentle dog. All she wanted was to love and to be loved. Not a big barker. Not a big player. In fact, I called her my labrador non-retriever because she might go after the ball, but she never brought it back.

I remember a lot of things about Izzy, how she liked to go out with me in the middle of the night while I looked at the moon. The bones she’d bury in the backyard but never remember to dig up. How much she loved to lay in the sun and take car rides. I'll remember two things most of all about Izzy. Once she saved our lives and once she almost outlived us all.

One weekend evening when Jonathan was about nine or ten, he and Susan were in our kitchen. I worked at my desk in our upstairs bedroom. Izzy slept on the floor by my side. My desk faced a window overlooking our backyard. Our kitchen also had a big picture window that faced the backyard. A tall privacy fence enclosed the yard. On the other side of the fence was a road. On the other side of the road were railroad tracks for the Northwest Chicago Metra line.

izzy at rest. Mike Barzacchini photo.

Visitors rarely came through our back gate. That night, approaching 11 p.m., a man with a backpack, did pass our gate. He started down the walk to our back kitchen door.

At the sight of the intruder, I raced down the stairs, first with Izzy trailing, then she bolted in front of me. Through the storm door, I confronted the stranger, asking him his intent. His answers were nonspecific and suspicious. He kept the backpack, now slipped off his shoulder obscured behind his legs.

I may have stopped him from approaching. But it was Izzy’s aggressive barking and the way she threw herself against the storm door that turned him away. We’d never seen her so fierce. She sensed the danger and responded to protect her family. Susan called 911 but by the time police arrived, the intruder had disappeared into the night.

A few weeks later, the news carried a story about a woman stabbed to death in her home. She lived on the same Metra line in a neighboring town. The intruder had entered through a back patio door. Was she killed by the same person who invaded our backyard? There’s no way to tell, but Susan, Jonathan, and I remain convinced that Izzy saved our lives that night.

Flash forward about six years. Izzy was near the end of her life. She was in pain. Her legs and bodily functions failing. We’d made the appointment with our veterinarian to have her euthanized in a few days. But now it was Sunday, a beautiful late summer evening. Jonathan, Susan, and I drove to a neighborhood pond with our younger dog, Daisy. Jonathan fished while Susan and I walked Daisy around the lake path, a path Izzy could no longer travel.

Before going home, we stopped for takeout food. We looked forward to a quiet evening. On the way home, a car ran a stop sign and t-boned us, sending our car on its side. Fortunately, we survived with minor injuries. I’ve often thought since that if the worst had happened, Izzy might have outlived us all.

Later that week, we helped Izzy pass on in peace. I don’t know about heaven and hell. I expect to learn someday.  I do believe, like Jim Harrison, that our beloved dogs will be wherever is next, patiently waiting to greet us. I look forward to seeing Izzy basking in the sun, with her smiling eyes, and wagging tail.