July 1. In just two weeks I pick up a 26 foot Penske truck and bring it home for loading. On the 17th, I drive it to Nashville, Tennessee, where Carmen will be the next minister to serve the Greater Nashville Unitarian Universalist Congregation. It's a happy happy thing - except for the folks we leave behind. The Meadville UU congregation will miss her terribly. Everyone else will miss Grace, the friendliest, sweetest, happiest dog on the planet.
Before October 11th, 2012, I knew maybe ten or so neighbors, all of whom were visible from my front yard. Since then, that dog and I have met many dozens of people and the dogs with whom they share their lives - not to mention cats, squirrels, chipmunks, rabbits, birds and moles.
Among the humans and dogs, several are standouts. There is a little girl up Morgan Street who drops whatever she is doing and runs to embrace, pet and be licked by Grace. I don't know her name and she doesn't know mine, but she knows Grace, and we know her dog Harry. Around the corner from her on Charlton is a tall man whose name I do not know, with a beagle named Steve, an older, friendly but not playful boy. Around the corner from them on Pine Street is Maddy, an old lady mutt who is walked by Sue, a professional painter whom I knew as a customer when I worked for Sherwin Williams, but whose home location I did not know until the morning Grace pooped in her front yard and, as I was cleaning it up, I heard a voice say "Jim?" Back on Chestnut there is Mrs. Crawford, with her two dogs corralled by Invisible Fence; Marge walking her two old shelties; and Melissa, a friend of the UU church with an old boy dog named Vic. Not one of those dogs wants to play with my girl.
Then we come to Walnut Street. Go west on Walnut from Morgan, and at the next to last house on the right before the blocks-long wilderness break, where the road is too close to the ravine to put a house, live an old designer hybrid dog named Dulie (sp?) and a German shepherd named Wolfie. Wolfie loves loves loves to play, is very big and very rambunctious. Wolfie was often tied out front while Dulie was tethered only by her territorial imperative. When we approached, Dulie would start barking and Wolfie would dance at the end of his tether. Then he and Grace would wrestle and romp and chase and roll around until the two leashes were tangled into a daunting snarl. I met Wolfie's mom when she came out in robe and slippers to help calm Wolfie and untangle the leashes. A couple of times, we encountered that bunch at Shadybrook Park, where I could turn Grace loose to run and play unfettered, stuck like glue to Wolfie, who was kept in control by Dulie. It was two years later that I learned Kelly's name. A couple blocks farther west, on the other side of Walnut, is where Mocha lives with Kevin and Gloria and their son Jonah. Mocha and Grace are best friends. Grace leads me to Mocha's house at least two or three mornings a week, plus any other time we happen to be in the neighborhood. Mocha watches out the window, waiting for Grace to appear. They always have a joyful reunion, and even when they are not in the mood to play, they like to just hang out together while the humans talk.
It's hard to think of taking Grace away from all of her friends, human and canine. It's hard to think of taking Grace away from her beloved lake effect snow. But her humans aren't getting any younger, and the snow in Nashville is probably not so hard on the primary shoveler. Plus, I can work in show biz again! And if I know nothing else about our new life in Tennessee, I know that Grace will make many new friends there. She's the friendliest, sweetest, happiest dog on the planet.
