Trevor Triever is my true love.He lived and he died a free spirit.I belonged to him,he did not belong to me. He had a “dog’s life.” He lived on his terms and got away with it.When he wanted to go play on the beach, he’d bark and throw a tantrum until I let him loose. I would chuckle every day as I watched him high tail it with all the speed he could muster to jet propel himself to the beach to play fetch with whomever would cooperate.And if there was not enough participation, he would bark until a log was thrown. If that did not work,he’d steal your shoes or eat your nerf ball or take a bite out of your sandwich to get your attention. It was all about fetching. That’s all he wanted to do.I never quite knew when I walked on the beach to retrieve my bad butt boy what kind of reception I was going to get. Usually it was comments about how great a dog he was and how much fun he was. But then of course there were a few snarls and snickers here and there. I had to enlist aid to capture him after his daily jaunts on the beach this summer. I had a regular brigade of beach folks who would help corner him so I could walk him home. I am grateful that I relaxed the rules this summer and let him play at the beach for hours on end. It was just too hot and he just loved the kids and the beach so much. Not to mention his tantrums drove me nuts when I was trying to stay on the phone and conduct business. Most people would laugh at all the ruckus because they had seen the dogs in my ad and they enjoyed encountering the real deal. He was King of the Beach and how dare another dog enter it while he was up on the porch with Mom. I got the opportunity to purchase a nerf ball this summer when a bedraggled, forlorn young lady walked up to my house and presented me with what remained of her nerf ball after Trevor completed chomping on it.
Trevor died after the fireworks started. He was playing on the beach and doing what he loved best …fetching logs…for the hour before he died.I also gave him some of the barbecue that Joann and David had brought me.He took off running when the noise started. When I found him he was dead near Tidewater Treasures.I carried him back all sopping wet and buried him in one of my favorite Holly Hobby Sheets that my Dad had given me as a kid.I buried him with a stick.I had ordered fifty daylilies to be delivered the day after he died. I thought about canceling the order but decided that I wouldn’t be good for anything else anyway.So I planted fifty daylilies over the next two days.It looks really pretty along the porch where he is buried.Suzanne encouraged me to go get one of the puppies at Allison’s the next day.I couldn’t stop sobbing.He was a bad butt. He was high spirited. He was a tease.But I loved him to the bottom of my heart.I cried the whole way to Allison’s. We had just done a puppy photo shoot for my ads a couple of weeks before so I knew Allison had a litter related to Trevor.It was a choice of getting a pup related to Trevor right then,and getting pick of the male litter, or waiting one year to get a pup related to my boy.
Trapper Triever is Trevor’s nephew. He is a gentle spirit. He is very calm and very loving.He has a very beautiful face and is very docile. I’m used to a wild one.I go into a cold terror every time he is not in my sight.Then I look down by my feet and see him. He’s so small and so close that I don’t always notice him at first glance. I think he’ll be a Mama’s Boy. I’ve never had that.I’ve had very independent boys.This one is a blonder color and more of a couch potato. I start to walk him for a romp on the beach and he wants to turn around and return to my air conditioned launch pad/work station.He likes the new rawhide bone Chris brought him.He didn’t understand the fuss with the flowers from Accubanc and Chris and Kristine(Max and Louise).He got in his paws in locomotion and dog paddled for the first time today.He does not understand fetch yet but he is persistent enough to drag my purse from one side of the desk to the other.He has both Rattan’s favorite toy, Froggy,and Trevor’s favorite toy,the Snoopy Sneaker,in his own junk pile at my feet.He seems to be giving equal time to both toys now. I believe Max knows what happened to Trevor. I think Max pooped lovingly on his grave that first night.Max was so tentative when he saw me the next day and so cautious with Trapper.Max was a best buddy to Trevor….as much as could be possible for one as headstrong and independent and high spirited as the Triever. They loved to tussle and toss and play fight on the floor while I was working.Trevor had toned down just a little toward the end.He would let me scratch his chin and love him a little. I took the Fourth of July Weekend off.I am so glad. I spent the whole weekend hanging out with just him. One afternoon I fell asleep with him in my arms. We were listening to Kenny G on my new CD player. It was so peaceful. The last summer of his life was wonderful…and so was the last weekend and so was the last hour. I would often look at him and think of Beauty and the Beast.I knew that if he was the beast he would come back beautiful because I loved him each and every day in each and every way.
It’s been enough days now that I'm not crying every moment. Rattan saw my tears;Trevor saw my laughter. How could you not laugh at his antics? He stole shoes,ate toilet paper rolls,chomped on nerf balls, chased logs,and collected junk piles.He was a big tease. He woke me up at 7:11 each morning with a loud “ruff.”If I didn’t get up quickly enough,he’s steal my newspaper and run around the room with it. Then when I went downstairs,he’d pretend like he didn’t want to go out anymore and make me chase him until I caught him and dragged him out with his back on the floor and his paws up straight in the air and using all the energy I could muster. He lived on his terms.If he wanted in or wanted out…either way was nonnegotiable. It was up to me to comply or he’d make me miserable until I did. Major perseverance.He got stuck a few times on his rope in the yard around some bushes. He still loved me when I got home and found him dripping wet from the rain. He dug a few holes that I refuse to fill . Instead, I’m planting some special plants to remember him and his gullies.He used to eat my flowers and run off with my rag dolls.He was a goof ball in high gear.
It’s Trapper’s turn now.He does the same antics plus some new ones.He gets inside the water bowl and splish splashes around.Then he stomps around and makes a mess everywhere.He also tugs at my dresses and at the shower curtain.He chews on my telephone and computer wires at my work station. Trevor cried the blues in the morning as a pup until I got him. He was breaking me in and getting me under control. He never did get the concept of “come here.” To him, that meant take off and run in the other direction… “Whoops, Mom is nearby. “ Trapper learned his name and responds already. He was not too fond of the choker and the sit and the heel command.But this one is learning at seven weeks or so while I’m stronger than he is.Trevor would make me bodily drag him to get him to do what I wanted. I could not be one of those Mom’s who would say,” Oh no, not my boy.” You could bet your boots, if there was mischief, Trevor was in it. He made it in the local paper with his buddy Max all on his own. Of course,I bought as many copies as I could. And he got an attitude and spent the night at Kristine’s/Max’s house one weekend while they were on vacation. I was sobbing by the time I found him.I swore I’d never let him out of my sight again.
But a free spirit is a free spirit. He lived and he died on his terms. He will be forever young. It’s odd, but I was sixth sensy about it. I had picked out the name for my next dog when I got him. The morning of the day he died I had panicked wondering where my favorite pictures of him were…I wanted them in case something ever happened to him.I had pasted a picture of him as a pup that my Mom had found at Gom’s house in my daytimer by the day he died. And a picture of the creek where he died on the next page.And one of my favorite sayings…”You’re just about as happy as you make up your mind you’re going to be” on the week after he died. I had always sensed he would not live til old age. He will be forever young in my mind and in my heart. He lived life to the fullest and he knew he was loved. He was well cared for and got whatever he wanted. I gave him all the quality time I could afford. We went on the boardwalk every day around one or two for an hour or so. He would bark at me until I took him for his break.I’d throw logs for as long as I could handle it.His spirit is on the boardwalk. I feel him when I go there. That’s the last place I saw him…he was on the rocks playing with Carmen and Eric and Adam. And he hid under their blanket when the noise started. And he cuddled up to some other folks all soppy wet further down the beach. I wish I had known how scared he was. In his right mind he would have never left the beach and all those stick throwers and kids and shoes and nerf balls to go thru the woods and get on a highway.His priority was to be in the bay and to be with people.. particularly little people…even if they could only throw the stick a foot or two. It was fine,he’d chase it anyway.Trevor got mad when I put him on a leash after he played logs.He would get vicious all of a sudden with other dogs nearby . It took all of my strength to restrain him. I guess he needed to be in control…or he was mad that they were loose and he was not.
When I think of Trevor I want to laugh and not cry.I want to laugh about his junk pile and his logs and his tantrums and his tennis balls and his newspaper and magazines and toilet bowl brush and pillows and socks he’d chew.I want to think of the shoes he stole off the beach and the crab buoy he brought home. I even got a letter from the town about my Juvenile Delinquent…and a request that he cease and desist from stealing shoes off the beach. I want to remember all the toilet paper rolls I had to buy and the floors that looked like I had an indoor sandbox.I want to remember the broken foot from the time we played frisbee and he won. I want to remember his horseshoe crab and his dead fish smell accompanied by this look of complete innocence.I want to remember the way he’d howl to the moon when he heard a siren…and the way Dorothy would mimic him.I want to remember the holes he dug to China….Trapper tried to dig up my daylilies but he does not quite have the paw power yet…I want to remember what a tease he was and what a bad butt he could be.But mostly I want to remember how much I loved him. For the first time, I know where he is all the time.He’s in my heart and outside my kitchen window.
Trevor taught me to laugh again.Trevor taught me to enjoy being happy in the moment.He taught me that it’s the small things that make me happy…just being with him and throwing sticks in the Bay on a sunny day.Trevor taught me I could love another pup again.Trevor taught me to love unconditionally.Trevor taught me a lot.
When I walk on the beach in the morning,I throw each and every log in the Bay for him.He is with me always…he is a part of me.
I thought about not getting another dog.It is to much loss to deal with. Rattan has only been gone three years. But like Judy said, how could the Golden Girl be without a Golden? Besides, Suzanne encouraged me.And people like David who came to help bury him or Kristine who came to hug me in the middle of the night will always be there. I have to stop crying.And I want a piece of Trevor with me.So now I have Trapper Tales.I have selected the pictures to display of Trevor by my desk.And I printed the photos of my boy on the porch from my digital camera.I have saved his collar and some fur.And I visit his grave and talk to him.And I’m making a photo album and writing his memorial.
Trapper is at my side now. I took him to Mark and Kristin’s today to play with Jordan,Luke, and Austin. I could not bear the thought of him being alone all day.I hope he’ll be a chip off the old block.He has a purple collar instead of a blue. Rattan had gold and tan collars.I begged Rattan to look after Trevor Triever. I know he is.They are playing sticks up in heaven and it better be with a little boy because I would be jealous if it was a little girl. I know what that means. Rattan’s with a little boy fishing and Trevor’s with a little girl to tease and torment me. I love you Trevor Triever and Rattan. You are my best boys.I love you,too, Trapper.You have some big paws to fill.
Cheryl Ritchie RE/MAX 100
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