Paladin
2016 - 2026
NEVER NORMAL
Paladin.
Ten and a half years ago, he loped into our family.
Unique. Boisterous. Clumsy.
(You try being a big dog with one leg missing!)
Ah yes, the missing leg that elicited untold looks of sympathy
From so many who crossed his path.
“For the last time, I was born this way!”
True. He never knew what “normal” was. Didn’t need to.
Oh, it was awkward at first—sometimes he fell. But he always picked himself up,
Gave himself a shake, then carried on.
And could he run!
Phenomenal.
Nobody who saw him run could believe he was missing a limb.
Nipped all those well-meaning comments right in the bud.
Two adopters ahead of us looked into his big, black, friendly face and said:
“We want him!” And they did. For a time.
Scared off by imagined vet bills and all-round inconvenience, they gave him back.
Gave him back???
True, a minor surgery was needed to take care of a small, T-Rex-like mini leg
In danger of getting caught on everything a curious puppy might encounter on a daily basis,
But the Dog Rescue that so wonderfully saved him from a miserable and probably short life
Covenanted to pay the cost.
Maybe the would-be adopters were prejudiced. Maybe they just couldn’t be bothered.
Their loss. Our gain.
Paladin was first named Coal.
That beautiful, pitch-black face of his!
“Coal” was proudly pictured on the Rescuers’ web site.
Guess who saw it?
She did. We did.
Our spines tingled at the possibility,
Nay, the inevitability!
Tentatively, we arranged an interview.
We sought a companion for our big boy Buck;
A complement; a competitor.
Uncle Clive from the Dog Rescue brought Coal by to
Test the waters, so to speak.
It took no more than a few sniffs to
Calibrate their suitability,
Both missing “something”:
Buck, his tail;
Coal, his leg.
Never normal.
Even Steven.
All was well.
Just one thing—his name.
Black and white, like a TV Western,
An instant pal for Buck---short for “Paladin”.
Have dog, will travel.
“Paladin.”
Perfection! The “boys” couldn’t agree more as they
Cascaded out our front door fit to melt snow with their collective
Play/steam as they tumbled round the yard.
A happier duo never was, Never so much as a cross bark between them.
United, these stern sentinels,
Never normal, always special,
Kept watch, each like a canine Rolex;
Stood guard, like book-ends,
Better than statuary, always alert,
Ready to welcome, after a discerning sniff,
Or warn, as the scent dictated--
For ten golden years.
In the fulness of wretchedly too short dog years,
Buck, the elder of the two,
Required some help to keep his younger
Pal at bay, so a third bundle to cuddle,
Beau, joined the fray;
(But his poem must wait for another day, Far away, we pray.)
Losing Buck was gruelling for us all.
Paladin grieved as surely as his instinct allowed;
Were grief palpable, he would have bitten it.
Remarkably, some months after his 10th birthday,
He was still garnering good reports from his vet.
Then he stopped eating.
Investigation subsequently showed a shadow on his liver.
Insidious in implication, we treated Paladin’s illness
As if the worst case sentence were at hand.
In the end, it was the familiar scenario of the
Profound communion between the sick and the care-giver,
Regardless of human or animal.
The love, the trust, the pain.
But we did not say goodbye to Paladin that day,
February 24th—a date etched on our hearts.
Instead, we said goodnight.
You see, Paladin was leaving to join Buck.
Once again, they would be together.
Keeping watch.
The Rolex twins.
Standing on guard, like book-ends.
With one difference:
No missing tails,
No missing limbs.
Yet, still never normal.
Because you’re Never Normal
When you’re Unique.
Bye, boys.
We’ll be seeing you. Mom & Dad
