McCOMB - If someone had told me two weeks ago I would spend as much on an injured dog as I have in the past seven days, I would have called them crazy.
That was before Abe, our 5-year-old German Shorthaired Pointer, was struck by a motor vehicle near our house.
My wife, Virgie, and I keep him confined to a fenced backyard most of the time, except when she's working in the yard or a couple of times a day when we let him out to fetch the newspaper and go for a run.
Usually he runs in the woods behind the house, goes next door to visit John and Shirley Young for a milkbone and comes back home.
Last Tuesday morning (March 28), about 6:15, after letting him out of the yard I heard him bark and then yelp behind the house. When I called him, he started toward me, dragging his back legs.
I could tell he was badly injured, but at first it didn't occur to me he had been hit by a car because of where he was when I discovered him hurt. I thought he had chased a rabbit into a utility shed and run into some garden tools cutting himself.
But Dr. Robert Kimmel surmised he had been hit by a car or truck, especially after diagnosing a dislocated hip. Obviously he was crossing the road, probably chasing something.
Abe was referred to specialists in Mandeville, La., who operated on his hip, which now seems to be recovering nicely.
I'm not saying how much it cost, but I did inquire of my friend, Bob Brock, who figures my income tax, if I could somehow claim a deduction.
Bobby, an animal lover who has experience with the same clinic where Abe had his surgery, said if I could somehow get the dog a Social Security number, he would file an amended tax return.
That doesn't seem to be feasible, so Virgie and I have about decided to let the bill come out of our children's inheritance and/or put us on Medicaid sooner.
I've owned dogs most of my life and have had several put to sleep when they became old and sick. I've even put a few down myself, although I don't do that anymore.
But somehow, neither Virgie nor I could do it with Abe who, despite his high maintenance costs, is a combination hunting dog, pet and watchdog. Virgie even rationalized that he is a good security system, which he is.
However, by Sunday I was still questioning our attachment to the dog - and the accompanying expense - when someone called my attention to last week's Franklin Advocate newspaper of Meadville, wherein a dog's funeral is reported.
Taking up almost two full columns of the front page is a column by David Campbell on the funeral of Webster, a dog owned by the newspaper publishers. The rites were held at Webb's Camp of McCall Creek.
The column is followed by a formal obituary which reported, among other things, that Marshall Funeral Home of Bude was in charge of arrangements.
Here are some excerpts from Campbell's column:
"A white hearse, followed by the Webb family and other friends, pulled onto the site guided by two white-gloved men. Webster's casket was then removed from the hearse by four men wearing white gloves and dark suits who marched in time to deliver him to a tent set up beside the dug grave.
"Bude Mayor Earl Case played a guitar and sang. After the casket was opened for friends to say their final farewell, Webster was buried in a vault bearing the inscription 'Webster 1990-2006' beside David Webb, his master and companion until Webb's death in 2002. Webb's beautiful grave monument depicts Webb with Webster on his leash at Okhissa Lake.
"Mary Lou Webb related how Webster became part of their family. He was a gift from State Rep. Bobby Moak in 1990. She said Moak walked in with a black puppy and placed him in her arms. As she held him, David walked into the room. Webster struggled down to the floor and ran to then Advocate editor David Webb. After that, Webster made every step David made. Since Webb's death, Webster has been the constant companion and friend of Mary Lou."
Campbell related other Webster stories, including one about Webb taking Webster with him to visit Brookhaven publisher Bill Jacobs, where the Advocate is printed, shortly after Jacobs had remodeled his office.
It seems Webster hiked his leg and took aim at a freshly painted wall. "Jacobs hollered, 'No dog, No dog,' when he could not think of Webster's name to stop the act," according to Campbell's account.
I met Webster once when Webb visited me about a printing project before I retired. But I didn't experience what Jacobs did in my office - at least not from Webster, although there were some humans over the years who figuratively tried the same thing.
Well, I've spent a bundle to keep Abe alive and healthy. He should not expect the same kind of funeral given to Webster.
But I understand what people will do for dogs.
