The best $25 I've ever spent

“Yep, that was the best $25 I’ve ever spent,” I answered.

For years Joe questioned the purchase price of our house dog Scruffy, and that was my standard response. Sam and I made a pact of secrecy (and $25 purchase price) that rainy June day when we brought Scruffy home as a Father’s Day gift for Joe.

At that time my kennel of working and trialing Border Collies was growing and I put a huge amount of energy and time into training my working dogs. Joe often commented how it might be nice to have a little house dog who had no job, and could just be the family pet. His comments didn’t fall on deaf ears, and Sam and I started the quest to find a little puppy for Joe for Father’s Day.

Low and behold the next week there was an ad in the paper for some Maltese x Yorkie puppies and we didn’t waste any time going to check them out. As Sam (age 6) and I entered the house, the fumes inside this warm house were intoxicating, condensation dripped down the inside of the windows, and it was obvious they were raising too many animals/litters in a small space. We followed the woman into the living room where she instructed us sit down on the floor and she’d let the puppies in. That in itself was a tricky proposition as stained carpet was laden with puppy poops. Sam and I carefully positioned ourselves amongst the landmines, and here came the puppies.

They were a rough and tumble litter of 6 and growled and pounced their way into the room -- all that is but the last one. The little guy was the runt and he hesitantly entered, cowering, head and tail down. The woman’s loud voice made him cower ever-more. He was careful to stay out of the fray, and instead of joining the wrestling match in the middle of the room, he slowly came and sat down right between Sam and me. I carefully reached down offering the back of my hand, and a soft lick reciprocated. I then picked him up for a little eye to eye, and there was no question this was a special little pup. I could feel the little stub of his tail start to wag back and forth as we touched noses and he gave me that first soft lick/kiss.

The woman didn’t come to a comma during our visit, and she told us that the little guy in my arms was still available because he was way too timid. So I asked the price and when I heard her answer I knew this puppy was significantly out of our budget. I graciously thanked her for her time, and returned the pup to his litter-mates, gathered Sam up and left.

We weren’t 50 yards down their driveway, when I looked at Sam, his eyes swelled with tears, and he said, “Momma we can’t leave him there, we just can’t!”

I pulled over so we could hash this out, and in a matter of minutes Sam and I agreed that this was a “rescue” situation. We agreed to “our pact of silence,” Sam wiped his tears, and I turned the car around. Scruffy was sitting and looking through the dog gate when we entered the house for the 2nd time as if to say, “I knew you’d be back.”

Upon arriving home, we presented Scruffy to Joe as our offering for Father’s Day, and in expected fashion, Joe rubbed his head and said, “What’d you have to give for the little fella?”

Without skipping a beat I responded, “Just $25, isn’t he a bargain?” (I turned and winked at Sam.)

At barely 3 pounds Scruffy dwarfed in comparison to our house cat, the Border Collies and the family ferrett. No one or animal in our house challenged him, and he befriended all - humans and critters alike. He even took it upon himself to win the affection of our 130 pound guardian dogs (for the sheep), and I watched on more than one morning as he came nose to nose with Ruby gave her a lick, and returned down the sidewalk to the house. We never again saw the cowering demeanor that we witnessed at our first introduction to Scruffy. He’d been saved and his gratitude showed in all of his actions and words (ok growls and barks).

The days months and years that followed, Scruffy raised our kids and numerous Border Collie puppies, bum lambs, baby duck and chickens. It was clear that he was the gatekeeper to our home, and he kindly and graciously allowed admittance to all who entered. He loved people and instead of getting their face he greeted visitors with my big down slipper. At first it appeared a large puffy wiggly slipper was coming towards the door, but if you looked closer a small Scruffy dog was carrying it in his mouth. It was impossible for him to bark with a slipper while carrying the slipper, so instead he wriggled from head to toe with happiness and sneezed. You were “in the club” if you got the slipper treatment from Scruff.

There was a short time we were misguided in attempting to make Scruffy fit the mold of only a house dog; it wasn’t a good fit for him, and we showed our naivety in thinking all house dogs could only be that. That first winter we got Scruffy a sweater for Christmas which he promptly ate. He rode in the truck, but his favorite was riding on the 4 wheeler on the seat between my legs -- telling off the Border Collies as they ran along side and we sailed through the meadows either after sheep or irrigating. He was a big dog in small dog clothing. He also knew that upon returning home, he had to succumb to a bath in the sink if he were to be allowed inside to assume his house dog duties. He dutifully waited for a rinse off, then sneezed and raced around the house looking for a slipper to show his gratitude for being inside.

Scruffy was embarrassingly mine, and thankfully he shared enough love with everyone else that no one felt too jilted. My bond with him was almost immediate, and only increased as I worked from home and was literally with him all day every day. He took up residency in a cat house under my desk until it was time to go outside and do farm work. He traveled up and downs stairs with me to refill my coffee, waited outside the shower for me, sat on the top step of the hot tub while I soaked. Wherever I was, there too was Scruffy.

We didn’t give him a watch, but Scruffy had a good clock on him, and would remind Joe when it was time for me to go to bed. He’d jump down off my lap, and stare relentlessly at Joe then back at me. If after a few moments he didn’t get any action, he’d tug on the blanket on my lap. Then he’d sneeze and jump around when Joe lifted me up off the couch to head towards bed. The only thing he loved more than bedtime with me was nap-time. It was as though he could tell on those long afternoons when I needed to rest, and if I took a step towards the bed, he gleefully jumped up on the bed, all the while sneezing, and dancing on his back legs, until I was under the covers, then he assumed his position behind the crook of my knees, snuggling in, and only venturing up to my head every once in a while to check on me and giving me a gentle kiss on the

nose.

The time we spent together only increased over time as I started to experience health issues and increased sleeplessness which has presided over most of the last 12 years. Thinking back to all the surgeries, recoveries, and chronic issues, Scruffy and I transitioned into spending our entire nights (in addition to our days) together after a few hours of sleep in bed. Late nights on the couch he snuggled in on my lap, and periodically checked on me by sniffing me nose to nose, only to be followed by a soft kiss/lick. Our long nights together lent themselves for Scruffy to become quite a tea connoisseur; his favorite (and mine too) was black Chai tea with milk and honey. We’d start the evening by brewing a huge cup, and Scruffy knew that the last few tablespoons were all his. I’d place my cup with cold remnants of tea in the bottom on the floor and he’d hop down from my lap and happily lap up his tea. Part of our nightly routine was listening to my soothing “inspirational” playlist which included my favorite two-step song This is Where the Cowboy Rides Away, by George Strait. In the quiet of the night I’d scoop up my little buddy and we’d quietly two step around the living room to George Strait, all the while softly cooing the lyrics to him. Really special and comforting times.

Tuesday last, February 12th, was a normal day; Scruffy came on the morning and noon time walks with the big dogs and slept in his cat house under my desk all afternoon while I worked. Around 6 pm he showed his first signs of distress, tail out straight and unable to jump on the couch. I knew this wasn’t going to end well, as he looked up at me. I crouched over him, we came nose to nose as he gave me his last soft lick/kiss. Scruffy took his last breath 2 hours later. Joe and I were there with him, stroking him and talking to him until the end and I’m grateful for that.

Ohhhh all of us are going to miss our little buddy. He would have been 14 in April which in dog years is 105, but I didn’t even think of him as an old dog because he didn’t act that way. I can’t enumerate the comfort he extended and companionship his given when no medicine would calm my pain. Such a blessing he has been in our lives. Unconditional friendship is an amazing thing.

“To give and not expect return, that is what lies at the heart of love.” Oscar Wilde

We will bury him in the spring down by the creek right next to Pete.

As we placed him in his bed with his toys and wrapped him in his blanket for the last, I looked at Joe, tears in my eyes and said,

“Yep, that was the best $25 I’ve ever spent.”