I Can't Think Straight Enough To Come Up With A Catchy Title For This Post

Hickpolitics and Redstate mascot Ol Red died today. He was 3 years old.

He lived with us for almost 7 months, after having found him abandoned and starved and neglected…we nursed him back from the grave and welcomed him into our lives.

We eventually found out he had been run over by his owner in his own driveway, placed in a horse trailer with a bowl of food and water…and left to die or get better on his own with no medical intervention. He ultimately escaped from that trailer, clearly in severe pain (with a broken hip and pelvis), and wandered for upwards of 4 months…starving and dehydrated…to eventually limp and crawl his way into our lives. We loved him, cared for him, and had succeeded in rousing his interest in living again and finding a new happiness amongst “humans” [and that crazy Rita dog (our Red Doberman) we subsequently bought] that actually CARED about his health and well being.

When we found Red, it was Arlene and Victoria (Academic Elephant for the irregulars around here) that named him. These two ladies shared a tear or two over his discovery, and the whole of the RS and Hickpolitics world welcomed him…readily…as our collective mascot-and the prayers began in earnest. They worked. He got better-we all MADE him better, and we left Rita to make him feel whole again.

Today, as Red went outside to do his business, everything seemed fine and normal. About the time he was ready to come back inside, the Missus noticed he was acting strangely. In the span of 45 minutes, Ol Red went from tail-wagging (and drooling) glee to a bloated belly from colic-like symptoms. He died quickly, with what we believe [and pray] to be little pain (colic and rapid bloating, we’re told, puts the body into almost immediate shock and disorientation).

I buried him in THIS riding ring alongside these English Mastiffs…

…amongst his adopted family and friends. Rita was there with me…she sat quietly as I dug. She licked and sniffed Red’s body…and sat patiently with me until I had him in the ground and covered with dirt. We said goodbye to him together. Rita, you see, had played an integral role in Red’s recovery. He had gone from THIS:

to THIS:

Red had weepy eyes and generated a great deal of drool. Rita would seek him out every day, and make sure his eyes were cleaned and his ears ruffled and fluffed and primped. She woke him up in the morning, shared breakfast with him, and made sure he knew there was a dog in the world that could NOT live without Red being a part of it…until today.

He will be deeply missed by his family and canine (and here and there feline and equine) friends. He will be especially missed by Rita, who had assumed it was her SOLE responsibility to make him whole again…now, she’s just lost and confused.

A good dog was lost today, and THIS time, a few of us are taking the time and the love to notice and to mourn.