Did you know that there are over 300 words for love in canine?
~Gabriel Zevin

The RV was ready, the retirement funds invested, the route planned, and we were excited. After forty-plus years in the workforce, we were retiring and pursuing our dream of traveling around the United States.

As the final countdown for takeoff began, my husband experienced some medical issues that sent him to his doctor for a quick checkup. After finding no clue to his baffling symptoms, he was sent for a CT scan and was eventually diagnosed with lymphoma. Our trip was put on hold while he went through chemo.

We were usually a multi-dog family, but at that time we were down to one dog — a mild-mannered Weimaraner named Anna. We had put off getting another companion dog for Anna since we knew we would be traveling. We planned to take her with us on shorter trips and leave her with family on longer ones. Anna traveled easily, and it would be no problem handling just one dog.

Anna was placid, content to sleep in a warm spot in the yard or stay by our side in the house, but she was not energetic enough for my husband’s needs. He relished a dog who would follow him around the yard, run beside him when he rode his bike, play hours of fetch outside, swim with him in the pond, or jump in the truck for a ride. That simply was not our Anna.

As word spread about my husband’s illness, sympathy poured in from friends and family. They knew how disappointed we were that our RV travels were curtailed. We did take a few local RV trips between the treatments, allowing us to temporarily leave cancer at home, but the long days of confinement were hard.

My husband is normally very active and energetic, so the feelings of fatigue and lethargy following treatment were unbearable. Our kids were wonderful about trying to help when they could, sitting with him during treatments and calling often.

We had been wanting another dog but had held off because of our travel plans. But then, our son and daughter-in-law pulled me aside one day and asked permission to look for another dog for their dad. They thought a new pet would take away some of the disappointment and fill their dad’s empty hours. They promised to take care of the dogs when we resumed traveling. After talking to my husband to be sure he was okay with the plan, I agreed. The search began.

My daughter-in-law soon sent texted us a picture of a lean and fit dog named Maddie who was a German Shorthaired Pointer (GSP), a breed we had never heard about. After quickly searching the internet, we learned the dogs were bred as hunters and were very high-energy. Maddie’s owner, a military man, could no longer manage a dog in his small apartment. Maddie was mostly confined to a crate.

It seemed like Maddie would be a perfect fit for us, so the kids arranged to bring her home. We set up another doghouse on the front porch and purchased a second comfy bed for inside the house. Then, we excitedly waited for the new addition to our family.

When our daughter-in-law pulled up in front of the house, out jumped the sleek, mottled-brown body of a GSP, followed by a huge, chocolate-brown Lab! Our daughter-in-law sheepishly explained that the owner had two dogs needing a home, and she did not have the heart to take one and leave the other. She agreed that the Lab, named Capers, would technically be hers. But since our son and daughter-in-law both worked full-time, we knew we were now the caretakers of three large dogs.

Maddie was restrained by a leash, but we could tell she couldn’t wait to run. The first time off the leash, she ran in circles around our yard and then continued right into our neighbor’s yard where she ate three of his chickens! We could not let her run free.

Our son, who lived next door to us, paid to have an invisible electric fence installed around both our lots. The purchase included training the dogs to learn their boundaries. Maddie was hesitant to go anywhere near the electric fence after only a couple of warning tones. The fence worked beautifully, and she was soon chasing squirrels up every tree, spooking the frogs in the pond, and loving the freedom of the great outdoors.

Maddie and my husband soon formed a special bond. He enjoyed all the dogs, but Maddie attached herself to him and was constantly by his side. While the other dogs would wander off to pursue their own interests, Maddie was faithful to her owner. They spent many hours together, and my husband was constantly thrilled by Maddie’s antics. His feeling-good days flew by as he rescued a snapping turtle from Maddie’s grasp, ran out in the back field to find a herd of wild pigs she’d cornered, and responded to her frantic barks when she pounced on a water snake. Life was full, busy and fun, and each day was a crazy adventure with Maddie on the prowl.

The time soon rolled around for another chemo session, and I knew my husband would experience the dreaded after-effects of treatment. I had witnessed the joy he felt with Maddie on his good days but wondered what would happen when he felt sick.

After getting home from the hospital, my husband headed straight for his recliner to sleep off the drugs. Maddie was baffled when he did not come out to play. She paced on the front porch, peeking in the storm door and whining for her friend to respond. When I let her in the house, she pranced in front of my husband, hoping for a romp, but all he could do was pat her on the head. Somehow, she seemed to understand that something was different.

I soon realized how smart and perceptive Maddie was about her beloved owner. The next day, my husband roused himself enough to go sit out in the yard to enjoy some sunshine. I pulled a lounge chair in front of the pond, and he stretched out with all the dogs dancing around him. Capers looked at him with her big, deep-brown eyes, a ball in her mouth, as if to say, “Here’s the ball. Why aren’t you playing?” Anna nudged his hand, looking into his pale face as if to ask, “Why aren’t you scratching my back?”

But Maddie — high-energy, mischievous, and wild — was doing something quite different. While her owner was lying there sick and suffering, she carefully crawled in his lap, put her head on his chest, and simply comforted him. She may have been bred as a wild and crazy hunter, but when needed, she was also a loving dog with a lot of heart.

— Robin Stearns Lee —