~ The Sound of a Friend’s Name ~
He didn’t come Monday. He was supposed to… but something came up.
How did I even know to await his now deferred arrival? Even from the other end of the house, my acute sonic reception abilities can catch the mere mention of a name.
Mom and Dad were conversing and going over the details of the upcoming week, which to us on four legs, contains a lot – and I mean a LOT of boring details. As soothing as their voices can be (mostly), I usually drift off during these conversations. Unless I hear the pack’s names, or the names of our friends. Or…words like treat, ride, scrubbies (bath), or outside – which will cause my upright ears to tilt towards a more favorable direction while my brain engages two-legged translation mode.
In the exact circumstance I just described (while I was laying on the big bed alone, curled in a ball with my back against our pack-leader’s pillow), I heard his name. My alert and pricked ears caught his name a second time and I was compelled to draw near.
Filtering out the “blah blah blahs”, and “yada-yadas”, my superior rez-dog brain deciphered the word Monday. If I understood correctly, Tony was supposed to come over on Monday.
That’s how I knew, and to explain why his name is at the top of my tail-waggers contact list, I have to go back to my days as a young co-pilot in Dad’s big truck.
Dad had already worked with Tony for a couple years before I was inducted to life on the road. On my first trip to the warehouse (after my new Mom gave me a thorough cleaning and going over), Dad and I had the place to ourselves because the other drivers were off on different schedules. It was just me and Dad.
Running free through the long aisles while Dad loaded the truck was a great thrill. Being hoisted up into the cab with all our gear made me anxious to see what the open road held for us.
Eventually, on one of our returns to Phoenix to reload, we caught up with another driver named Tony. He was in the dock loading his semi-trailer.
I liked Tony right away. He wore black shorts and a black shirt, which makes it easier for other two-leggeds to see that he is a friend of dogs. My fur really showed up on him even after the slightest hug and pats. Tony has a keen sense of humor and likes to give Dad a hard time, which really endeared me to him.
On the road, driving around various reservations and their various grades of remote and rough byways, Dad and Tony rarely landed in the same town at the end of their workday. When Dad and I finally got our truck unloaded and made the long return trip back to the warehouse, I always hoped we’d find Tony had returned also.
Dad and Tony regularly rang each other up and checked in with each other while zooming around in different directions. They compared notes on different delivery points, alerted each other about weather, told bad jokes, offered to drop what they were doing to help when the other’s truck broke down… and with Tony’s multi-decade experience on the road, he always gave Dad good advice.
On several occasions, Tony helped Dad get out of some tight spots.
One time, Dad had to go to Illinois for some family matters, and on his return trip while driving through Oklahoma, he found himself heading towards two super cell thunderstorms that had tornadoes.
Dad pulled over his pickup to the side of the road and called Tony. Once he gave Tony the current radar conditions, location, speed, and direction of the storms, Tony gave Dad the best way to go around the storms, guiding him safely north and west, up and around the storms – all by memory.
Of course their friendship grew over time, as did mine with Tony. Even after the three of us left behind the big bouncy road food-enhanced truck driving life, we are still close, even though Tony lives in the big metropolis ninety minutes away. When he comes up to our elevation on occasion, Tony sometimes brings a bag of doggie-bagels from Chompy’s as a treat just for me, (though I do share with the rest of the pack).
When Dad and Tony are together, after the initial excitement of seeing him again, I like to lay down near them and listen to them talk and laugh. Sometimes they take me for a long scenic drive, which is the closest thing to heaven on earth for me.
So, even though Tony didn’t make it up here Monday, and I’m a bit disappointed, I know I’ll see him sometime soon. How can I be so sure? Well, my two-legged friend is made of special stuff: he’s a Semper Fi guy. Like me, he knows loyalty and persistence in difficult circumstances.
Dad says if you have the friendship and respect of a Semper Fi guy, you have something very valuable. I agree.
~Hazel Bazel Rocket Dog
