My first dog was Rex; a gold and white collie…picture Lassie. He resides in the mist of my earliest memories, maybe even a bit of a mythical figure. I don’t know how we got him, though seems like my dad brought him home. Not sure if he came as a puppy or a bit older dog, though I was a puppy at the time of his arrival.

What I do remember is being with him in the backyard of our house on 34th street. I recall that he was playfully gentle and protective with me.

Uncertain if he fetched the ball, but the ‘game’ I remember is falling down like I was hurt, calling out “Rex!”

Rex would rush to my side, nudge me with his nose, then sit close by me and whimper. When I would jump up and say something like “Rex, I’m ok!,” he would bound up happily and I would hug him.

I don’t mean to read into those ‘glad reunion’ games more than I could have been aware of then. I surely did not have the words for it all. But I do remember feeling safe…loved by and loving him. A trace of that assurance comes back every time I conjure up memories of fluffy Rex, hugging onto to him, when he yet again came to my rescue.

When I was 5 1/2 or so, my dad and I moved in with my Morgan grandparents, Mimi and Pawpaw, for several months. This was while my mother spent several months in the hospital with her mental health struggles.

Initially, Rex went with us. Then one day, playing out in Mimi and Pawpaw’s backyard - which I did a lot during those months - I realized Rex was not there.

Sketchy memory. I ran into the house and asked where Rex was. I realize now, Mimi was a bit edgy with her answer: “Oh, oh, he must have run away.”

I don't think I cried, but recall feeling a bit blank. Not sure if I connected confusion with where is my mother with where is my dog? Looking back, perhaps it was my first brush with loss, rudimentary grief.

Over time, I surmised, though never confirmed, the four grandparents decided since there was so much going on with Billy, Faye, and little Bill, that it would be good to find Rex a new home. I trust that they did find him a good one, though decades later now, I can still can conjure a trace of anger.

Best I can figure, Rex ‘left’ a couple months before Lassie and her boy Jeff showed up on TV in September 1954. (Timmy came later.) I recall watching Lassie and thinking Rex each week.

Looking back, I am putting pieces together. There must have been some second thoughts. Not certain who was the prime mover, but not too long after Rex's exit, another dog showed up at Mimi and Pawpaw’s.

His name was Skippy. maybe a couple years old. They said he was a Toy Collie mix. Same colors as Rex, much smaller body, but just as big love. In contrast to bigger than me Rex, I could pick Skippy up and hold him!

There are some good Second Dog Skippy stories. I had him from age 5 until 10, maybe 11 or so. During those years, Monday through Friday, Skippy was a house dog sleeping at night on my bed and dozing there in the day, when not playing outside or inside with me.

My dad was mostly gone during the week as a traveling salesman for such products as Maxwell House Coffee, Jello. Gerber Baby Food, and such.

When he came in the front door on Friday, you could hear Skippy step off the bed and go for a quick exit out the back door. On weekends, my dad’s no dogs in the house rule was observed…2/7’s of the time.

These many years later, there are moments I have sixth sensed beloved Jack (2005-2018) and now adored Sam somehow channeling Rex and Skippy’s return.

Through the inevitable griefs that accumulate in our lives, there are woven in the memories and moments a gentle, undeserved love that holds on and holds us together. Perhaps these are glimmers of God’s love for us which shimmer through people and pets.