GAIL WHITE Man's loyal best friend captures hearts of the whole family

When we moved into our house nine years ago, my husband insisted on getting a dog. We bought a yellow Labrador retriever puppy from a farm a few miles away. I can still remember her sweet, shy demeanor as she laid next to her mother. We picked her up, and she easily snuggled into our arms.
The children named her Laverne. My husband and I never knew how they came up with the name, but from the day we walked through the door with this puppy, Laverne was a member of our family.
She was feisty as a pup. I recall one day when she saw the children at the end of the yard and came barreling toward them. She ran Phillip over, flipped him head over heels, in her excitement.
We thought we lost her once. She was gone for two weeks. One day, there she was sitting on the back porch with a very guilty look on her face.
Two months later, we knew why. She had puppies.
We learned that the father was a golden retriever. The two had spent the two weeks together sharing his dog house. Laverne, it seems, had fallen in love.
That's the kind of dog she was, loyal and faithful and true.
One true master
As much as she loved the golden retriever, however, she loved my husband more. They say a dog has one master. With Laverne, that was very true. That dog thought my husband hung the moon.
He played ball with her incessantly that was part of the attraction. He talked to her with a sappy, lovey voice. She liked that too.
The clincher was when he started letting her sleep on the bed. (That was also the clincher for me!) In the evenings while I put the children to bed, I would hear him call her. By the time I came to bed, Laverne would be comfortably sleeping in my spot.
"Get down!" I would demand. She would look to her master for instruction.
In the morning, I got up at 7 a.m. to get the children off to school. Laverne was up on the bed by 7:02.
There were days when she drove Pat crazy. She followed him around the house everywhere he went.
While she loved Pat, she was wonderful with the children as well. She was the pillow for many small heads during cartoon shows. She was the horsey for rambunctious boys playing cowboys. She was the guard at the bus stop in the morning and the greeter in the afternoon.
As she got older, sleep became more important than fetching sticks. When we replaced our family room furniture, we saved the old love seat for Laverne. That was her couch.
A new puppy
Two years ago, we gave our son, Andrew, a dog for Christmas. It was a stray a friend had found living under her porch. The vet said the pup was about 4 months old when we rescued it, and he couldn't even venture a guess as to breed. Andrew called him Charlie.
Until now, Andrew was never really the master of his dog. He fed him and watered him, but Laverne was Charlie's master.
Actually, she wasn't his master, she was his mother. That purebred, golden lab took that scroungy mutt under her wing and taught him the ways of the world.
The pup, in return, breathed new life into the old dog. She got up off her love seat and began running and playing again. The two were inseparable.
So, the day Laverne was hit by a car, Charlie wouldn't leave her.
"Your dog has been hit by a car," a neighbor called to tell us. "The little black dog won't leave her side."
Charlie wouldn't leave her side when we buried her in the woods. Long after we had said our goodbyes, Charlie sat by the freshly dug dirt.
A few nights later, he sat at the end of the driveway and barked at the moon. If only the moon could cure a broken heart.
Broken-hearted
Our family is brokenhearted too. It's funny the things you miss the most.
Every time I pull into the driveway, I find myself looking for a wagging, yellow tail to come bounding out of the flower bed.
I hated it when Laverne was in my flower beds.
I'd love to see her there now.
gwhite@vindy.com