Shasta’s collar has been missing for a few days now. I’ve looked everywhere she and Quinn normally play, assuming that it got pulled off during some especially vigorous roughhousing. But it’s nowhere to be found.
This morning, as I was tidying up some boxes that have been sitting on the deck for a few months gathering water (and, lately, ice), I noticed something shiny at the very bottom of the box. I dug around and there, encased in a mixture of mud and ice was a red collar with a brass dog tag and two rabies tags… exactly what we’d been missing!
I brought the collar into the house, filled the sink with warm, soapy water, and began to scrub the collar that had gotten exceptionally muddy and dirty in the matter of just a few day. And hey – how did it get there, anyway? Shasta and Quinn play on the deck, but how did Shasta’s collar find its way to the very bottom of a box that was off in the corner?
No matter, I thought. It’s just good that it’s finally been found after a week. I’ll wash it off, dry it, and put it back on Shasta, who will surely be happy to have her familiar collar back.
I reached into the water and pulled out the collar, ready to give it a good scrubbing, and this is what I saw:
Tahoe was our first Golden Retriever, who died suddenly at the age of 14 on Christmas Day, 2004 (the same year that my mom died on Easter morning).
Sweet, sweet, well-behaved Tahoe!
Just… things that make you go “hmmm.” And break your heart a little bit.