I had a client with multiple four-legged companions which was not unusual in and of itself. One of her dogs had extrasensory perception when it came to her housemates and one very special friend.
I seem to remember names as I can visualize the personalized food bowls which would be
placed specifically about the kitchen floor at meal times. Mya, Jack, and Gizmo were the names given their dogs and Harley and Annabelle were the cats.
Not that all five animals weren't remarkable but this tale is dedicated to Mya.
She was black, big boned, stubborn, long-haired with eyes that pierced the air and the soul. I thought at first introduction, that she might be a wolf hybrid. I don't remember if I asked about it. She really didn't look like a wolf to me but her body language told a different story. She was constantly on the prowl with her head down. Her owner did tell me that when she was on the scent, I might as well just follow as best I could. If I couldn't keep the pace, it would be all right. She always stayed within an earshot! Didn't sit much. Didn't obey much. It wasn't that the other animals avoided her, she just was a loner among the pack.
Walking all three became a challenge and I elicited the help of my daughter to join me at the house after dinner. Managing Mya took considerable effort and her breakaway collar caused panic a couple of times. Thankfully, she didn't go far. In the beginning, it was a matter of trust. It was a matter of listening to her; not woman to dog, but spirit to spirit. I would give my daughter two to keep her balanced, one on each side. Jack had a "gentle leader" harness and the little one was rather well behaved. I would walk with Mya.
They lived in an older part of the city and you could tell that the land had been parceled off
acre by acre from farmers and ranchers. There were no city blocks, hardly any sidewalks or street lights on the far east side of the neighborhood. Farmhouses with rickety wooden roofs and falling down porches were dimly lit by a few low wattage light bulbs. Brand new brick homes with cramped yards and single car garages were squeezed onto narrow parcels, just wide enough to drive one way, park in some one's driveway, reverse and head out again.
A private equestrian training facility and pasture greeted us at the end of civilization. Our walks generally followed the same route. Mya didn't like cul de sacs or for that matter, any enclosed outdoor space. She preferred to walk on the grass, and didn't like concrete or asphalt. If another dog was out, I would have to straddle over her and hold her collar. She would become tense which would set off the other two.
Mya was a horse whisperer. It happened quite unexpectedly on our first walk. When we had passed the last house and approached the ditch separating the pasture from the dirt road, she sat; her choice, not mine. The remaining two ignored her and continued on their walk. Thankfully on that night's outing, having two handlers for three dogs made it possible to separate the group. It was simply a matter of a majority vote.
Not knowing what she was looking at (could have been a snake), I stopped walking and tried to
match the direction of my gaze to her intent stare. In less than a minute, an old swaybacked brown horse appeared from the horizon and at a slow gate, came to the three rail fence and stood. Mya lowered herself as if to honor him. The horse, in reply, nodded and gave a solitary paw to the ground as if he was tapping a response. His eyes were cloudy but his mane had been recently brushed and his hooves were neatly trimmed. He was enjoying his retirement in the "Sunshine State."
I didn't move. Mya didn't move. My daughter had rejoined us and was excited to see the horse but couldn't stay to witness this ritual between friends. I reached in my pocket and passed the house key to her and whispered I would return soon. Being that she had been my helper for a few years, she turned and started for the house and I knew I would find the other dogs comfortable on the sofa when Mya and I got back.
So we remained in the gentle slope of the ditch and the minutes passed between daylight and dusk. The horse backed up from the fence and turning his head towards the horizon, walked away until he was again part of the original landscape.
Mya turned and looked at me. I patted her head and gave the command "Let's go". We continued to the end of the road and turning around, we were met by a man who had just passed through the main gate of the training center. He said, "Ain't it grand that God gave animals such wonderful friends? And I ain't talking about humans. I've watched that horse of mine converse with many a dog, but his favorite is Mya. That dog's got a bigger heart than most people I know. That horse has been through tough times. Don't know how long he'll be with me. But until he goes, I hope that Mya will continue to visit him. It's kinda like a horse version of an old folks home", he chuckled, but there was a catch in his throat.
"I promise she'll be here when I am in charge," I said as I blinked the moist release of a solitary tear.
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