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Robert Redfur was born in Somes Bar in 1989.
Now this is about as far in the boonies as you can go without starting to come back out into civilization on the other side of the boonies. As far as we know, he was an only pup, which might explain why he was so special.
No matter what you may have read about other breeds of dogs, Shetland Sheepdogs ARE the most intelligent dogs on the planet. Robbie recognized a whole vocabulary of words. He continually amazed us with this talent.
There was nothing he liked better in his younger years than a walk in the woods. If you used any sentence with the word “woods” in it, he would come unglued barking and running back and forth to the front door.
His favorite person in the world besides me, was S. my best friend, because almost invariably when she came over, a walk was in the cards. S = WALKIES! (In dog language.)
Everyone loved Robbie. Wherever he went children would exclaim, “Oh look, there’s Lassie!” He was a handsome thing, you just can’t argue with that. If ever a dog was loved and fawned over, it was Robbie. (It helped that he had impeccable manners, always a good thing in one’s canine friends.) And he was always ready to comfort us if ever we were feeling low.
For three years, I was caregiver to an elderly woman. Some days I would take Robbie with me to her house. Invariably the whole time we were there, he would lie down next to her, as if he knew this was the person who most needed watching over. I had to play second fiddle those days.
Robbie was laid to rest on my parent’s property yesterday, in a spot prepared a few weeks earlier by my two younger sons. Right near his grave, a little oak tree is growing. I will miss my loyal companion very much, but I will not miss seeing him in constant discomfort. Yesterday morning, he gave me the signs I needed to know that it was time. Up until then I was hoping for recovery. But seeing him shivering in pain left no room for that hope.
I saw a book once in the library, although I haven’t read it called “All Dogs Go To Heaven”. I think that must be true. In which case, our Robbie is running like the wind through the biggest woods any dog could possibly imagine.
Run swiftly, run true, my furry friend.