Lark was our border collie. She assumed everyone loved her. And so she greeted everyone the same–with a big hug. If you were average in height, you got two paws thrust into your ribs so hard it would knock you back if you weren’t expecting it. If you were tall, you might catch it in the belly. But if you knelt down so she could get her arms on your shoulders for a proper hug, she would also reward you with as many face kisses as you could tolerate.
Her drive to work was also strong–working and loving were just two sides of the same coin. We didn’t keep livestock, and she was never trained to herd, but fetch was the perfect job. If we didn’t have a ball or Frisbee around, Lark was quick to improvise with a stick, rock, or pine cone. She’d drop it near you, lay down nearby, and stare at it intensely until you engaged.
And because work=love, she would also play fetch for anyone. Our FedEx driver would be the first to admit people skills are not his strength. For a year I’d never seen him smile. One day he came and Lark brought him a pine cone from the yard, and he was instantly smitten. From then on, he never failed to drive up–all smiles–clutching a huge, fresh pine cone. She came to recognize the sound of his truck and would wait anxiously at the door for us to let her out. They loved each other.
Given Lark’s drive, we did talk about the potential for future accidents/medical problems. She only knew two speeds: 0 and 11. Most people only ever knew 11 Larky. We figured arthritis or broken bones were an inevitability. For as intelligent as she was, she would race to fetch a ball at full throttle without slowing down in anticipation of getting it–comically overshooting every time. Hyper focused on the prize, her brain had no space for thoughts about a future after getting the ball. Her intense focus was both beautiful and hazardous.
Border collies are also known for their fearless herding skills, and Lark was no exception. While large for a female (50 lbs!), she was not a big dog. But that didn’t stop her from trying to assert authority over bigger dogs, horses, bikes…or cars. Tragically she picked a fight she couldn’t win. She didn’t suffer. As she took her final breath, her piercing eyes said to me “I did a good job, right dad?” as if it were any other game of fetch. “Yes,” I said to her, “you did the best job.”
Lark was the first dog we had as adults. Her mom brought her home as a puppy and started our family. Losing her unexpectedly brought on textbook symptoms of grief. Keeping her safe and healthy was my responsibility, and I failed. Am I a failure? Her last moments keep playing over in my head. Could I have done something different? I’m nauseous. I feel like someone kicked me in the stomach. I sob randomly and uncontrollably. I know these feelings only pass with time, but it also doesn’t hurt to be blessed with wonderful family, friends, and neighbors.
Lark had a wonderful life. Beyond being spoiled by two work-from-home parents, she also got to live never knowing old age, real pain, or serious discomfort. I can only hope I’ll be as lucky as she was on those counts.
It’s comforting to believe that it was simply her time to rest. It’s hard to imagine her aging very gracefully. As much as I wish she were still with us, I try to remind myself that’s selfish. She lived her life at full speed without fear. She’s earned her final rest.
She will forever be a part of us. Maybe not her recklessly fearless approach to work (or play), but her recklessly fearless approach to love.
If you are reading this, it almost certainly means you are someone very special to us. We want to thank everyone who has reached out to us even if it was simply to say “sorry”. Your thoughts and love are what will get us through. It really does make a difference.