Remembering Cassie

I am not an animal lover by nature, and I regard it as something of a character flaw. Were it not for the fact that I am married to a great animal lover with a kind heart, I would have no pets of my own choice. If I hadn’t been the father to a daughter, I certainly would never have bought a dog. But a kid needs a dog. And so here I am: Pet owner – Dog owner.

I bought Cassie for my daughter, Julia, in September 2001. We had been searching for a dog at the pound and spent a Sunday afternoon at Operation Kindness in Richardson, a fantastic no-kill shelter. We looked at dozens of dogs, but none were quite the right one. However, there was one more.

The vet introduced us to a black and tan cattle dog mix that they called Hassie after the the street where they found her, Haskell Street in Dallas near CityPlace. Hassie was living in a storm drain with five puppies. She would come out and beg for food from office workers on their lunch break. Dutifully, she would take the food back to her pups. Then one day, some kind soul called Operation Kindness, who called the City of Dallas to actually disassemble part of the storm drain and rescue the dogs. This is the central legend of Cassie – she was a woman of mystery and a hero.


All of Hassie’s pups found homes, but this sweet-natured, one-eyed three-year-old dog could find none. What can say? It was love at first sight. We had to have this dog. And when she climbed in the backseat of the car for the first time and immediately unleashed a fart so noxious it could have immobilized a horse, we knew that we had picked the right dog for us. When given the opportunity to name the dog, my daughter immediately changed her name to Cassie, to which I responded, “Really?” But that was it. No do-overs. A name is a name. Cassie is would be.

I cannot lie: This dog was a pain in the ass sometimes. Cassie was ill-mannered, barking incessantly at visitors, urinating occasionally on rugs and destroying furniture from time to time. However, it slept on my daughter’s bed every night, which gave her great reassurance. No monsters would trouble Julia in the night. She had Cassie by her side.

And although I am not a pet lover by nature, I came to love this dog. Someone once said, “Let me be the person that my dog thinks I am.” Amen to that. I never was worthy of Cassie’s love, but God knows I tried. I walked her, played fetch with her, sat with her on the floor. Cassie wasn’t always great with other people, but she loved her family greatly. And as she got older and lost the sight in her one eye, as well as most of her hearing, she became crankier with others, but not her family. Cassie loved unconditionally to the end.

Cassie had been sick for the past few days, which didn’t seem abnormal until last night. We let Cassie out in the yard and she disappeared. I went out searching for her with a flashlight and found her tucked under a nandina unable to move. I carried her in the house and placed her on her dog bed. I think Cassie knew it was her time. My wife drove Cassie to the animal hospital and then our vet this morning, but Cassie died in the backseat of our car. The little girl had come full circle.

My wife brought Cassie home and we put her on her favorite pillow and wrapped her in her favorite red blanket while we dug a grave. It’s a strange feeling to dig a hole in the earth for someone you love, even if that someone is a dog. But I wanted Cassie to be at home in her yard. She had earned much. You never leave anyone behind. Cassie taught me that lesson, and I wanted her to know that I remembered. So my wife and I gently placed our dog in her grave, tucking in the blanket at her head and feet. We said a few words, then covered her up. And now it is time for crying and remembering and a shot of Scotch whiskey.

Cassie, thank you. We’ll miss you, but you will always be with us.