Sometimes a song or artist can transport you to another time and place. Tim McGraw holds that power over me. My once favorite musician throughout junior high and high school; the first CD I bought his Not a Moment Too Soon. And I aged myself with the CD comment…
I can still hear his voice blasting through warn speakers of my first car, a ‘74 burnt orange Chevy Vega. And if I try hard enough and close my eyes I can feel my passenger, Miley.
A wiry, brown mutt Mi was my first real dog. I had others growing up, but she was the first one that was truly mine. That I owned. Or she owned me. She'd sit nestled in my console, cruising the streets of St. George. If I wasn't at school or at work that dog was always with me.
I'd belt whatever song was playing and try to get her to howl along with the words. Sometimes it worked. God, I wish i I had recorded her howl/yowl/whine combo because it was something to behold.
Our song was Something Like That, or as I always called it, The Barbecue Song. It may sound like a weird choice if you’ve ever heard it, but I worked so hard to win that little timid dog over. I swear she recognized the beat, even years later. No matter how long it had been that song would come on the radio and she would get all excited.
I played it for her one last time the day I let her go.
It's been almost three years and my heart still aches. But it's dulled and now I find I can cherish her memories. As with my other dogs, a piece of her is always with me, will always be with me.
So today I'll turn up my phone just a little louder and let her come back to me again. Because they never really leave us. Not when they take a piece of our hearts with them.
Lisa (and Luna)