Winona
 

     My best friend is a dog. Now that may seem strange to some, but to those who have loved and have been loved by a dog, it might seem perfectly normal. And she's certainly changed my life.
     I didn't set out to even get a dog but my husband's best friend's Golden Retriever had pups. I knew nothing about raising a dog but took her anyway, this little alpha bitch that wrestled with her 10 brothers and one sister. Winona, named since birth, (Indian for "First Born Daughter") received extra attention from the 2 boys of the household, further entrenching her "alpha bitch" status. We brought her home, furry, beautiful, and smart. She knew she was alpha over me and showed her dominance (and my ignorance!) with biting. And biting. And biting. She was a terror and I didn't know what to do with her. A cat that had adopted us just hated her. I was getting ulcers keeping them apart. The day we all fell asleep together on the bed was one where I knew things would work out between them. But I couldn't control her and hated her at times (and hated me for not being strict enough with her). We went to obedience class and she totally obeyed the instructor. But not me. Oh no, she knew she didn't have to obey me . . . the little terror.
     But then she grew up. And we moved from Denver to San Francisco, a beautiful place but since I knew no one, my ever-faithful companion explored the new sites with me. We lived right off the San Francisco Bay with trails all around. Every night, without fail, we would walk. And run, And swim. And chase jackrabbits. Oh, those jackrabbits are great to chase—they just keep running! Winona loved the water—but just wading. Not too deep! But she loved being in it. The larger waves of the ocean scared her, but there were lots of birds to chase on the beach. Winona is more of a Golden Observer than a Golden Retriever, but she will chase sticks thrown in the water. Other than that, she never did like toys or balls or anything but my sleeves to chew. My huge sweatshirt collections consists of many nice sweatshirts with the cuffs all chewed up. She grew mellower and pretty much obeyed me. At least I could control her. Sort of, anyway.
     The first day she ate an old dead decayed bird I thought I was going to puke, but it was just a glimpse into what was to come. She loves dead and stinky things, to eat or to roll in. One time I took a dead (fortunately) rat out of her mouth. A tail stuck out of one side of her mouth and the head stuck out of the other. Not sure what I would have done if I hadn't had mittens on at the time! Sometimes I had to drive in the cold Colorado weather with the car windows open because Winona stunk so bad from rolling in some dead animal. But I put up with it. Must be love.
     When she was young she thought she was a small dog and every night would lie on my stomach when I was on the couch (after chewing my sleeves, of course). But now she's always near me, although she's usually not on top of me. I remember the first time I saw a gray-faced Golden when Winona was still a pup; I hoped she would never look like that. But she started going gray at four—"prematurely gray" I'd tell everyone. And now at 10 I wouldn't change her gray face a bit. It's a beautiful face. She's still ready to chase rabbits, but more than usual she's sleeping on the couch. We still take hikes every day, without fail, when I get home. She's a little slower when the weather is hot, but is always ready to go. She greets me at the door with so much love and I sit on the floor and rub her belly. Certainly a wonderful elixir for erasing the troubles of my day. The day she's not at the door to greet me like that will be one sad day indeed. And I know the day is coming. She's very healthy now but I have to realize that one day she won't be with me. But I try not to think of that and make every day as good as it can be.
     I have a theory that when someone dies, part of the sadness that you feel is related to guilt in how you treated him or her. I've given Winona everything I could, and I don't think I'll feel any guilt. Yes, I think she's got a good life. She's got a comfortable couch, ice water, lots of walks, rides in the car, and love. And food, oh yes, her number one priority is food. She's always been a little on the heavy side because I just can't resist those baby browns. And when she lays her head on your knee—"heavy-headed begging," we say, well, she knows it's effective and always gets something!
     Everyone who meets her just loves her sweetness and they stop to pet her. And everyone knows here name (not that they know my name, but that's ok). It's wonderful that she makes people smile. Just walking down the trail, people smile at her. What power.
     So Winona has certainly changed my life. Since the Golden Retriever is such a wonderful breed of dog, I got involved in Golden Rescue where I do newsletter and other graphic design. I'm also on an Internet list of about 2,000 other golden lovers, all connected by their love for Goldens. I'm even going to "Goldstock" this year. A woman opens her camp to golden lovers and their dogs. We've mostly only met in cyberspace but I'm sure it'll feel like we're with old friends. My house is decorated in "Golden Retriever." I have a special "dog car." I'm known as the "Dog Lady." I don't care if I eat fur, sleep in fur, and wear fur. I wear Golden Retriever earrings. Everyone thinks I have many dogs, but no, it just seems that way.
     I wrote a haiku about Winona one time. Here it is. To my sweet mellow Golden Winona Who has quite a regal persona You love all you meet With a crotch sniff you greet You've been my heart dog for as long as I've known ya.
     Yes, she's gotten me into trouble a few times with her crotch sniffing. But that's another story. I'm proud to be Winona's best buddy. My best friend. A dog. Go figure.