When I was a younger man growing up in the northern part of Alabama I had a Golden Retriever named Feather. I remember him with a warm heart even though I cannot bring to mind any specific tender tales to share at the moment. My most vivid memory surrounds the end of Feather’s life. He was thirteen and I was approaching my teens when he died. The day I heard the news was one of the saddest I had ever experienced in my short time of existence. I remember crying and hurting and hurting some more. I guess his death really blindsided me. Somehow I thought Feather would always be a part of my life, and now he was gone…forever. I cried a lot that day. I think I also learned a lot without really knowing it. Maybe that is why I recently felt the need to honor the memory of my childhood companion by bringing him back from the dead. No, I am not talking about performing a Christlike Lazarus moment. Instead, I am speaking of turning a vague, shadowy, dearly held memory back into reality.
Three weeks ago my family and I went to a show breeder in southern Mississippi and picked up our seven-week old pet-quality male Golden Retriever puppy. With too many smiles to count and more happiness than you can find in a lifetime, our new puppy has become a family member overnight. It almost brings tears to my eyes as I think of my memory reborn and the joy he is already bringing to my children. What’s his name you ask? Why, of course, you already know.
It’s Feather.
From my desktop to yours, it’s another Alabama memory.
