Dave Foulk Internet Flyer

This afternoon, my dog Lilly went out on the back porch. It was quiet, and she used her shrill bark to pierce the silence. Then she waited and listened. She barked again, and again listened. My wife and I believe Lilly was calling for her friend of ten years, Peanut. But the brown hound dog who could be heard a mile away if she let fly with a good old Tennessee bark, is forever silent.

Peanut became ill this past weekend, and I still tear up writing about the final hours of her life. She normally barked and barked when I came home. But last Thursday, there was no bark. Only a howl of pain as she tried to walk up the stairs. I carried her the second flight, and then to the bed, where she remained until I could get her to the vet the next day.

Dr. Sam Lyle is a wonderfully kind man, and I have watched him bring animals back from the brink of death. When he offers advice, it is as he is talking about his own animal. That night Peanut was hospitalized. The doctor noted severe back pain, and one of Peanut's rear legs was starting to drag. I thought an IV of predisone and some pain reliever, some rest and she would overcome this milestone of advancing age.

But the next morning, Peanut surprised the doctor and his assistants when both of her legs were dragging and she had lost control of her bladder. The question came over us like a black cloud- What do we do.

One option would be a medical consult with UT Vet School. The minimum cost would be as high as two thousand dollars. The expectancy of cure would stay at fifty percent- the same odds as we had tried. Then there was the pain. I have back trouble and I know how excruciating it can be. Dogs, especially dogs like Peanut are stoic and will not show pain. But the night before she went to the vet, I could see something wrong in her eyes. I cupped her head in my hands and stroked her velvety brown ears, and prayed out loud for answers and a cure if that be God's will. She seemed to understand I was doing something special, for she stayed stone-still and looked at me the whole time.

That day, with profound sadness and regret, I authorized the doctor to sedate her, then administer a lethal dose of medicine that would end her life peacefully, with no convulsions, no pain, just a simple end to the heartbeat of one of my best friends.

Did I do the right thing? Everyone I talk to says "yes" , even those in the veterinary field. Her prognosis was dismal, even though she had only been symptomatic for a few days. I ordered her remains cremated and I'll bury them.

I am not a softie by any stretch. I watched my father die, and literally helped carry my mother on her last trip from her home- knowing she would likely not return. Death and carnage has been a part of my work from time-to-time, and the suddeness of the loss of a human life is nearly uncomprehensible. I have seen things that have given me nightmares decades later.

That's why Peanut was so important to me. She was innocent, loving in the agape sort of way. It didn't matter whether I had messed up a newscast, missed a deadline, or taunted by the dozens of harpies who reside within the wall of my profession. All she wanted was love. And she let me know it by pawing at my hand when I wasn't getting the job done. She gave ten times the love and companionship she received during some dark times. I was so glad she was there.

Here's what a good songwriter, Tom T. Hall said about three things important in life:

"How old do you think I am," he said?
I said, well, I didn't know.
He said, "I turned 65 about 11 months ago."

I was sittin' in Miami, pouring blended whiskey down
When this old gray, black gentleman was cleaning up the lounge.

There wasn't anyone around, except this old man and me.
The guy who ran the bar was watching Ironside on TV.
Uninvited, he sat down and opened up his mind
On old dogs and children and watermelon wine.

"Ever had a drink of watermelon wine," he asked.
He told me all about it, though I didn't answer back.
"Ain't but three things in this world that's worth a solitary dime,
But old dogs and children and watermelon wine."

He said, "Women think about themselves, when men-folk ain't around.
And friends are hard to find when they discover that you're down."
He said, "I tried it all when I was young and in my natural prime,
Now it's old dogs and children and watermelon wine."

"Old dogs care about you even when you make mistakes.
God bless little children while they're still to young to hate."
When he moved away I found my pen and copied down that line
About old dogs and children and watermelon wine.

I had to catch a plane up to Atlanta that next day.
As I left for my room I saw him picking up my change.
That night I dreamed in peaceful sleep of shady summertime,
Of old dogs and children and watermelon wine.

I know which old dog I'll dream about tonight.

Bye Peanut..you're a good girl. I hope we see each other again. I really do.