Things not the same without your best friend

Heidi has been moping all week. Her best friend, Gary, left to go back home to Seattle on Sunday and won’t be back for several more days. Heidi rarely mopes at the lake; there is so much to do, and she has lots of other friends. There are Karl, Mia, Abby, Cody and the twins, Charlie and Harley. But Gary is her best lake friend and things just aren’t the same without her. When they are together, they start their days early. Whoever gets up first goes to get the other. They eat breakfast together and then are on their way. They romp around, play in the bushes, swim in the lake, wrestle on the beach, run recklessly with their other friends, take a nap and start all over again. Yep, it’s a dog’s life at the lake. Literally.

Heidi is our golden retriever, and Gary (female, named by her kids after Sponge Bob’s pet snail that meows) is a 1-year-old springer spaniel. They met last year when Gary was just a pup, but have been best friends since. Now, when they are separated, they miss each other passionately.

The dogs at the lake. Cabin after cabin, beach after beach, lake after lake. It’s the same. Just like the kids, just like the adults, the dogs have their lake friends, their lake social routines, their lake reputations …

As far back as I can remember, dogs have been as much a part of the lake community as the people. Even when I was a kid, going to my uncle’s cabin, there were dogs. His were two Welsh corgis, who would get so excited when we would roughhouse on the dock that they’d both jump in and have to be rescued, because they did not know how to swim to shore.

The cabin we have now belongs to my husband’s family, and I’ve only been around there for 18 years. When I arrived, there were several really OLD resident lake dogs. Dobie, a huge Doberman, patrolled the beach, watching over the children, guarding his precious four little girls from any harm. There was another Heidi – a huge, ancient, long-haired white dog, who wandered around silently like a ghost and warned affectionate children that she was sore with a long deep growl. Jessie, the deaf little cocker spaniel, also was not fond of the children but adored her mistress and was adored back. I remember two little tiny poodles, old as the ages, who’d ride to the beach in a milk crate on the back of their master’s motorcycle. There was also Jennie, an antique Shih tzu, and Twinkie, another tiny, decrepit little poodle. Maybe it was because the dogs were protective, maybe because they were small or perhaps it was just because they were old, but most of these dogs seemed to shadow their owners at all times, never leaving their sight. Boy, things have definitely changed.

There is a new generation of dogs out there, and they are a having a ball. A few have the delight of living at the lake all year-round, like Wiggles. Wiggles is a pound puppy, who came to his master after the last of the two previously mentioned basket-riding poodles went to the great lake in the sky. Wiggles appears to be half basset hound and half Dalmatian. What you get is a squat, white dog, with black spots. His appearance suits his prestigious position of the official dog for the local volunteer firefighters, and he rides proudly when called to duty.

Others, like Heidi and Gary, only get to spend their summers in paradise. Mia, a long-haired black retriever, makes the trip from California yearly. At the ripe old age of 15, we wonder every year when she leaves if she’ll make it back. But, come early summer, seemingly on her deathbed, Mia and her prescriptions are loaded into the car for another long drive. When she arrives, her spirit is restored and she seems to become younger every day. There is a hop in her step and a shine in her eye that isn’t seen outside Idaho.

And then there’s Karl. I must say that this dog, a smooth-coated fox terrier, is my (shhhh) most favorite of all. When I first met Karl, I thought I’d never seen a sillier looking dog, from his loooonnng snout and tall pointy ears to his curled up tail. He was rescued by someone who knew his type, from a grungy back yard full of unfortunate dogs, and was given to a family with three small children. His new mistress took him into the pet store to get a tag for his collar and asked the clerk how she should spell his name? “That dog? That dog definitely spells it with a K!” He is now affectionately known by his friends and family as “Karl with a K.”

Karl is the closest to a human as any dog I have ever met, except he is much cooler than us. His confident, keen, intelligent-eyed way has been the source of many hilarious conversations, in which he is personified as a gentleman with a 2,000 Scrabble word vocabulary, who is perpetually waiting for someone to bring him his slippers, smoking jacket and pipe. The other side of Karl is a friendly, fun-loving, comes-to-visit-Heidi-and-says-hi- to-the-people-too kind of dog.

Finally, we have the newest additions to our lake-dog family – Charlie and Harley. These adorable cocker spaniel puppies bring joy to anyone who can catch a glimpse of the tumbling, toppling, romping, wrestling little pair of hairballs who roll down the beach after their mistress as she unwinds every evening. If you time it right, you might get to hold to one as he crashes for a little nap, exhausted from all the good-time fun of life at the lake.

These dogs are as much of our lake community as any person is. They each have their own personality, routine and best friends, and when they are apart, they miss each other. All part-time lake dogs, it seems, go through some sort of depression when the fall comes. They mope around, sleep a lot, don’t eat much, and run for the car every time they hear the keys… Because, just like us, they know that the time will come again when they will all be together again, playing, swimming, laughing … living at the lake.