Man's Best Friend

My mom's dog, T. J. died. We can't remember when we got him for sure, but he was at least 12, which is old for a big dog like a collie. I named him after Thomas Jefferson. We took a family vacation that included Monticello, and ever since then I've been intrigued by Thomas Jefferson.

T. J. was a good dog. Very timid, very gentle, very obedient. My mom always loved collies, altogether I think we had 4. He has seemed old for a couple years now. We kept saying, "if he makes through this winter, he'll be o.k." Then spring would come, and we'd shave all his hair off, and he'd look like a fawn, and we'd say, "if he can just make it through the summer." I guess this was the winter he couldn't make it through.

There are things that I still have that were my mom's or my mom gave me that I cling to, and insist on using and loving even though they have lost their prime. I have a sleep shirt that I can't part with, a dish scrubbie that doesn't scrub much anymore. I clung to T. J.'s life with much importance. He probably never got the love and respect he deserved. Maybe mom can take care of him now.