Caussey's Corner

A Dog Called Pill: A Texas Tale of a Loveable Puppy

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Every child who reaches adulthood can reflect back and remember a particular pet that made their young lives happy. Here is just such a remembrance.

In the sixth grade, while walking home from school, I found a sickly, frail, hungry, scared, and big-footed little puppy trapped in a drainage ditch. With his rescue, he bequeathed me with the most precious and wonderful love.

Once he gained strength, the puppy and I were inseparable. Summer was quickly approaching, and I definitely had made plans for our adventures.

I named the puppy Pill because that was just what he was… a pill. He had a laughing tongue and feet that were always under foot. With a perpetual moving tail that would put a symphony conductor’s baton to shame, Pill was a dog of character and great personal warmth. Even his doggy smell oozed love.

Pill and I went everywhere together, delivering the morning papers, mowing the neighbor’s yard, and sharing a snow cone with the money we earned. Pill listened when I spoke, looking directly at me with those big puppy eyes. He would turn his head from side to side as if each word spoken was the most important word in the world. When things became too much of a challenge at home, with food and affection in short supply, Pill was always there to comfort and brighten me with hope.

Pill was a laugher, a giver, a reliever, and most importantly… my best friend.

A Dog Called Pill: A Texas Tale of a Loveable Puppy

Photo: envato elements

As June stretched toward July, and summer heat made life difficult for those of us shirtless and under hats of straw, Pill began to lose some of his pep and energy.

One day, while on one of our adventuresome jaunts, Pill lost movement in his hindquarters and tried to drag himself around with his front legs. When this occurred, I loaded him into the basket in the front of my bike and took him home. With a little rest, Pill was himself in no time and able to walk the next day.

But one morning Pill could not get up, and could only barely raise his head. Yet his tail still made happy sounds. Pill was again loaded in the bike basket and taken to the local vet, but I didn’t have the three dollars to pay. I went home and sold my BB Gun, the one Santa had brought me the previous Christmas, to a neighbor boy. With the five dollars from the sale, Pill saw the vet.

The vet said that Pill had distemper and would die soon. I left my bike and carried Pill to the house and made him a pallet on a quilt next to my bunk on the screened porch.

A Dog Called Pill: A Texas Tale of a Loveable Puppy
Photo: envato elements

Over the next few days, Pill quit eating and his condition worsened. His bright, dark eyes had turned completely white, and his once erect and playful ears took refuge on his face and neck. His breathing became shallow and he cried from the pain during the night. Only my touching hand or voice seemed to help him escape the pain.

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