December 24, 2024
Personal Reflection
“Greatest Winner of Friends” is how Dale Carnegie describes dogs in his world-renowned book, How to Win Friends and Influence People. His book has not only stood the test of time, but his writing has gained popularity since it was published in 1939. A light came on when I read his theory on dogs and their purpose in our lives.
It was an Arkansas spring morning in 2019. My husband Robert came home from work at six in the morning, and he found six puppies snoozing away in our crate, covered in poop. After nine years of marriage, being ambushed with a crate full of puppies was mundane business in our home.
In that little litter of teeth-grinding cuteness was a female puppy. I had to keep her because she looked like a German shepherd. I had always wanted a German shepherd, but my habit of adopting dogs in need never made me available to get a purebred. This was my chance as I saw it. The deal became sweeter when my dad and stepmom adopted her brother, Kai. I named her Oakleigh.
Oakleigh did not turn out to be a German Shepherd, but she was 100% mine. Oakleigh’s puppy phase resembled driving a car down the interstate and hitting a lot of potholes. She was independent by nature but loyal to her core. She ran the yard like a tight ship. Nothing was going to survive on her turf. Even the most skilled mole could not burrow deep enough in the ground to go undetected. Once she became aware, it was game over. I had a thriving garden because of her. It wasn’t uncommon to spot her with a prize clenched in her teeth.
However, she surprised us all when she caught a baby deer, and though I believe that would have been a high reward for her, loyalty to us was her priority, so it was no surprise when she immediately abandoned this endeavor once my husband commanded her to. We were the greatest joy to her.
Our family only grew after Oakleigh. We added additional children and dogs after she became our family. We opened as a foster home and though time with her alone was scarce, her love for us never lessened. Oakleigh lived an excellent life for several years. Sadly, ultimately, her adventurous spirit led her and her two best friends to jump our fence and go into the dark on a busy street. When her friends Elton and Bear came home, we knew something dreadful had occurred. They were regular gypsies, and no matter where their spirits led them, they always left together and always came home together. Those dogs were Oakleigh’s puppies — well, not really, but they both had been with her since she was four weeks old; they wouldn’t have left her unless they had to.
Elton was the first dog to return home when we woke up the following day. He was lying on a chair sitting on the porch. We wondered if he had forfeited the adventure with Bear and Oakley since he is significantly younger than them and he is also less social. Galloping the mountainous landscape into the yards of strangers splashing in their ponds doesn’t seem fitting for Elton, a Doberman-Husky mix. He prefers his human, my son Matthew. Matthew is Elton’s adventure. So, when Matthew alerted us to Elton’s return, we were not surprised. The news that followed was a surprise, though.
Our neighbor sent us a screenshot of a post about Bear that appeared to have been posted on Facebook the night before. The lady posted a picture of Bear and said he was on the side of the highway, running from one side to the other, weaving through traffic. She mentioned she tried to coax him in her car, but he would not accept the invitation. He tried to pull away from her and return across the highway, continuing to howl. She mentioned at one point, he spooked her with his vocals. She thought he may have been trying to alert her of danger nearby. It is interesting how well she read Bear’s cues because he is a lackadaisical dog without much character, so cries like the one she described would have alerted us, too. We knew at this point that something had definitely happened to Oakleigh.
We thought she may have passed away somehow. Perhaps by a wild animal, or Robert suggested a car. Where we live, there are electric tree lines and vast woods. Finding her outside the prominent places would be like finding a needle in a needle stack. 🙂 Robert and I drove up and down the highway to see if we could spot her body. This would be the worst-case scenario but the most straightforward, obvious way to find out what happened to her. Robert and I returned with no more information than we had when we began the hour before.
My dad, who owns Oakleigh’s brother and is a dog lover, offered to go with me in the Jeep for a more in-depth search. The first place we drove was by all of the three electric lines that Robert and I had seen the dogs run down in the past. We had the Jeep top down, soaking up the unseasonal sunny-and-75 forecast. We called Oakleigh’s name and waited to hear any kind of response. As we checked off every electrical line, I told my dad I would return with hiking boots if we did not find her. The only thing worse than her death would be her suffering out there, starving with a broken leg or something. I could not shake the anxiety of the unknown.
We finally explored our way down the mountain; still, Bear was found much further north than the roads from our house to the highway led. Bear was found on the highway that intersected with Morgan Road. All routes led us to the highway intersection with Linker Mountain Road. Dad and I decided we needed to go to where Bear was found and start there.
The lady was lovely enough to send us a map and circle precisely where she found Bear. This helped alleviate any fear that the woman who found Bear was using a landmark —such as Morgan Road to describe Bear’s approximate location. He was precisely that far north. Dad and I sat in the parking lot right by where Bear was found, and we pulled out our Google Maps. We shared theories.
Though our theories differed, we agreed on one thing: we did not believe the dogs came out on Linker Mountain, ran on the side of the highway for a mile, and then crossed to where Bear was found. We both agreed the dogs most likely crossed the highway when they reached it. This made the past hour of searching for Oakleigh a waste of time because that would mean she went further north on the west side of the highway (the side my house sits on), and we were searching too close to my home. My dad pulled his phone back out, and we decided to backtrack closer to Bear’s location and further from my house. We pulled out of the area the lady sent us and went south onto the highway. As we pulled onto the highway to make our left turn, I saw the wooded area across from Bear’s location had a partially cleared section with a red metal fence. I pointed it out to my dad and warned him that we might have to jump that fence to go find Oakleigh if we ended up no further to the truth by the end of this leg of our search. We wandered through back roads, and Dad would alert me to which roads were dead ends and when I needed to turn out. He served as a nice human GPS in a standard Jeep. We continued to call her name.
I told my dad I needed closure. He assured me that he believed God was going to give me closure. When we came up with nothing, he told me to return to the location I mentioned earlier with the fence. He reminded me that I would not be able to take the Jeep, but he would support me walking up to it. It was indeed a last-ditch effort. I went back onto the highway and traveled north until I saw the salvage yard and pulled in. My surroundings were easier to identify with the Jeep top and doors off than when Robert and I searched the area earlier that morning in his truck. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an animal deceased on the side of the road. I was careful not to look closely. I turned to my dad and said really carefully and quietly, “Dad, I just saw an animal deceased right over there as we pulled in. You better go look.” Dad said, “Sure.” He walked over with the same brave stride I had seen him use many times growing up. He said, “Felecia, I think this animal has been here awhile.” I turned while staying seated in the Jeep. I looked, and the animal did look brown; Oakleigh was black, but the shape of the legs, as they stood straight up in the air, looked like hers. Though not wholly recognizable, the sight was familiar enough to convince me I knew what I saw. I said, “I think it is her.” Dad said he looked closer, possibly resisting the subconscious mental protection his brain provides, and he looked up at me and said, “Yeah. I can see it. Does she have a yellow collar?” It was indeed her. Dad removed her collar for me, and we went home. The accident was high impact, and she indeed died instantly. Her head was still in perfect shape, with her abdomen busted open. It was clear that as she was coming back home, the back of her body was hit, which aligned with the puddle of blood that lay approximately 12 inches from being off the road. The mission had ended. The unknowns were known, and the reason Bear was howling and crossing the highway and refusing to get into a car with a stranger became clear. His leader, best friend, and the copilot for many adventures had been killed. I don’t claim to understand animal emotions. I don’t believe they are much like humans; dogs are better than us in many ways. They aren’t scorekeepers, validation seekers, betrayers, or drama starters. They are happy to see you when you come around and loyal pets. But I felt like I identified with an animal’s emotional response for the first time. Even though it was dark and cold and going home would have been best for Bear, he wasn’t willing to leave his best friend, and I believe he was grieving in a way that I have not witnessed in the four years I have owned him. I made a laser-engraved memorial for Oakleigh’s collar. In the next post, I will explain how I made it.
It feels comforting to look at our dog cabinet and see her face with her collar around her neck. Though sadness lingered in my heart, the mercies were not lost. I got six years with Oakleigh, who was loyal to her core and never required much.
Oakleigh and the dogs ran off the day my dad flew here for his annual Thanksgiving visit. My dad is a dog lover, which made this moment special in a strange way. It gave me someone to share my grief with who understands it. I got closure. I was trying to prepare myself for no answers and repeatedly failing. I didn’t know what to do without knowing what happened to her. I got her collar, which inspired my first DIY blog post that I have been putting off doing for a year. It also reminds me of that time with my dad and our conversations while driving around with the top down. My dad’s health has been through a lot this last year. I am thankful we took the time to look for her together, and I know we wouldn’t have had that drive if she weren’t missing. I was able to reflect on owning Oakleigh. Her loyalty and low-maintenance personality highlighted the main idea in one of my favorite books, which solidified the image of the human I want to be.
Get your own copy of the book here.
Reflecting on my journey with Oakleigh, I realize that our bond was a testament to the unique connection between humans and dogs. Dale Carnegie’s insight into dogs as the “greatest winners of friends” resonates deeply within me; they embody loyalty, unconditional love, and pure joy. Oakleigh brought light into our lives, teaching us valuable lessons about companionship and devotion. Though her physical presence is no longer with us, her spirit remains alive in our memories and in the love she fostered within our family. As I create a lasting tribute to her through a memorial collar, I find solace in knowing that even in loss, there are mercies to cherish. The experience has encouraged me to embrace the ideals of kindness and loyalty that Oakleigh exemplified, inspiring me to strive toward becoming the person I aspire to be.
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