For the Love of a Dog (a sad repost)

I wrote this blogpost below in 2012. Seven years ago and every word of it is true… But it hits me more right now because I said goodbye to Bronte on Friday.

She was more than a pet, she was a family member and a good friend. She was a walking companion, a family protector, and a confident. She was there to see all of my mistakes, all of my blunders and all of my successes. She loved me and supported me through all of them.

Her full name was Bronte C. Vaughan Emily Southard (aka Foxy) and the world is a lesser place because of her departure.

For the Love of a Dog

Bronte

This weekend, my daughter, who is about to turn one, said clearly her first word. It even came with a point of the finger for emphasis. “Dog.”

Dog…

I wouldn’t be so bitter about it, if it wasn’t for the fact that this is the second of my children to give this honor to our dog. Bronte (Yes, I am a writer with a dog named Bronte) is a border collie mix and does not have what I would consider the Hollywood-dog relationship with my kids. She is not running alongside them as they play throughout the day, with a waiting tennis ball in the mouth.

No, she is a herder and my children are her sheep. And Bronte’s day is spent laying in some corner of the room, watching the kids play out of the corner of her eye, ready to bark at any questionable passerby outside (or as she probably sees them- wolves).

You can read the rest of the blogpost here- https://sdsouthard.com/2012/03/26/for-the-love-of-a-dog/

For the Love of a Dog

This weekend, my daughter, who is about to turn one, said clearly her first word. It even came with a point of the finger for emphasis. “Dog.”

Dog…

I wouldn’t be so bitter about it, if it wasn’t for the fact that this is the second of my children to give this honor to our dog. Bronte (Yes, I am a writer with a dog named Bronte) is a border collie mix and does not have what I would consider the Hollywood-dog relationship with my kids. She is not running alongside them as they play throughout the day, with a waiting tennis ball in the mouth.

No, she is a herder and my children are her sheep. And Bronte’s day is spent laying in some corner of the room, watching the kids play out of the corner of her eye, ready to bark at any questionable passerby outside (or as she probably sees them- wolves). Continue reading