Pip and the Sheriff: A Memorial Day Story

My lit­tle dog,  Mr. Pip, is an adorable Jack Rus­sell mix.He looks like a tator-tot with legs.

We were at the vet recently.Pip’s ter­ri­fied of the vet. But he was doing his best to look brave, when an old­er, armed sher­iff arrived.

The man strode up to the vet tech, whis­pered something,and she replied,

“Of course. Bring him to Room 5.”

When the sher­iff turned to leave, Pip jumped up and began lick­ing his hand. The sher­iff leaned down to look at him, and then knelt on the floor. Pip hopped into his lap, and buried his sweet lit­tle face in the man’s chest. For a few min­utes, they shared what I can only call a sacred embrace.

When the vet tech reap­peared and opened the door to Room 5, the sher­iff gave Pip a squeeze and mur­mured, “I have to go now lit­tle buddy.”

Pip hopped off his lap. Then he sat at my feet, at atten­tion. And when I say Pip sat at atten­tion, I mean he sat like a tiny sol­dier:  shoul­ders back, ears erect.

He watched intent­ly as the sher­iff lift­ed an enor­mous old Ger­man Shep­herd out of the back of an SUV marked K9 and car­ried him into Room 5. This wasn’t a pet. This was his partner.

When the vet closed the door, Pip sat up even straighter, like an hon­or guard. His eyes and ears were pinned on that room like laser beams. Then all of a sud­den, he fell to the floor, and heaved a deep, sad sigh. Above the din of cats curs­ing and dogs whin­ing, Pip knew when it was over.

Dri­ving home, my mind swirled with ques­tions. How did Pip know to go to the sher­iff that par­tic­u­lar moment? What led him to sit at full mil­i­tary atten­tion? He’s not a trained police dog. How did he know when the shep­herd was gone? What moved Pip to hon­or that first-responder’s loss like the sher­iff would have hon­ored a fall­en colleague?

So many ques­tions. So lit­tle time. But, maybe dogs are fur­ry angels, sent to com­fort us when we need them most.