One early summer June evening in 1996, my mom and I took a car ride. We headed to Wisconsin to pick up our new puppy. Nels. We had picked him out at the farm weeks earlier, but we needed to wait to bring him home until he was old enough.
I was so excited. I always loved dogs and always wanted one of my own. Miraculously, my sister and I had finally convinced my parents to let us get a dog. He was a black tri-color Australian Shepherd. I picked him, Stevie named him.
He was finally old enough, so my mom and I drove out to the farm and picked him up. Still just a puppy, he sat in my lap as we drove home. Nels cried. He cried and he cried and he cried. My mom and I cried. We felt so guilty tearing him apart from his puppy family.
One would have thought that this pup would have disliked the car for having taking him away from his mom and dad and siblings. But we quickly became the family he knew and loved. And he loved the car. If you said, "car ride," he would go crazy, wagging his tale and run towards the back door. If he ever got out of the house and wouldn't come back when you called his name, he'd meet you at the car if you told he he was going for a ride.
Today Nels is just weeks shy of his 15th birthday. He his old and weak. His health is deteriorating. He lived a good life and will be greatly missed.
Today Nels is going on his final car ride. This time I'll ride along side him in the back seat. This time he'll need help getting into the car. He can't just jump up like he used to. This time there will be tears, but they won't be his.
J.B.
