Thoughts On a Sunday Afternoon

     I have been thinking a lot the last couple of days about some of the dogs that my Dad liked a lot.  He was a big dog lover like I am.  So was my Mom. 
     My Dad definitely loved Toby, but Toby was my friend exclusively for the most part.  Those who have read this blog for awhile know how much my friend Toby meant to me.
     My Dad had a dog he cared about like I cared about Toby.  My Dad's dog was named Quincy.  Quincy was about eight or nine years old when my Dad got him.  My Dad was in his late teens, and he was working on a farm.  The farmer owned Quincy at that time, but Quincy took an instant liking to my Dad.  In the evenings and on the weekends, Quincy and my Dad went hunting and fishing together.  During the days, Quincy helped on the farm. My Dad said that he was the best herding and ranch dog that he had ever seen.
     When my Dad was read to leave the farm at the end of the season, the farmer gave Quincy to my Dad.  They continued their hunting excursions.  My Dad said that Quincy could track better than a Coon Hound even though Quincy was a collie/shepherd mix.  Quincy would help my Dad work a herd of hundreds of sheep for the next two years.
      In 1951, my Dad was drafted for the Korean War.  Quincy stayed with my Dad's brother.  The dog passed away shortly after my Dad left.  Dad talked about Quincy a lot.  They were special friends.
     My Dad had one dog while I knew him that was very special to him.  I had a rottweiler named Abraham, but it became quickly evident that Abraham wanted to spend time with my Dad more than he wanted to spend time with me.  One of the very few times I saw my Dad cry was when Abraham passed away. 
     My Dad's last dog was an Akita/rottweiler mix named Evie-Anna.  She was a huge dog that weighed 130 pounds.  Dad liked to buy special treats for her and take her for walks.  When my Dad passed away, Evie-Anna couldn't understand where her friend was.  When I went out to give her her food and water, she would always look past me towards the house to see if Dad was coming.  Evie lived a long life.  She was over 14 years old which is a very long life for a dog as big as she was.