A week ago Monday we lost the most important member of the Truck Patch team, Desto “Senior President Best Buddy.” If you have ever come to visit as a friend or as someone staying in the AirB&B you’ve met him. He was large, wiggly, incredibly happy, and impossible to miss.
To us he was loyal, steadfast, eccentric and tender. The short essay/obituary below is taken from a few essays I wrote during the two different rounds of his illness. (Read the complete essays on The Seed and the Story.)
Desto wound up in our family in 2019, a blue-eyed four week old puppy. We had no intentions of getting a dog and were happy loving Elise—who was dang near deaf and blind at that point—and June, who was turning into a nice cuddle companion for Elsie. Some former neighbors texted and wanted to see if we’d be willing to take in a four week old Australian Shepard puppy. He was the only one left in a litter after the mother killed all her pups not long after birth. For some reason she didn’t kill him. When he was four weeks old she refused to nurse him and tried to kill him too. Too young to sell, and clearly not safe to stay with his mom, he had to be re-homed. They asked if we’d like to have him. They knew we had three young kids and this dog needed love.
Elsie had no use for this weird little creature but did tolerate it patiently. But June took him in. He tried to nurse on her and she didn’t understand that but she was never harsh. She was so gentle with him and would alter her playing style as he grew. In the beginning she was SUPER careful with him. His little head would fit in her mouth! She taught him manners, how to be gentle and how not to annoy Elsie (see video below.)
As he grew older (and much, MUCH bigger), he took a liking to farm chores. After Elsie passed away at 17 years old, he stepped right in to start taking care of me. That was in the spring during covid, and I spent a lot of time in the garden. He became obsessed with shovels and would become SO excited whenever he saw us start to dig. When he was very young it was almost a problem.
By the time he was five he’d learned how to hone the skill and was a real asset to our gardening operation.
When we had new guests he’d run over to greet them; when people came to the driveway, he was the first to alert. If the children wanted to venture off into the woods he followed them closely, always quick to alert me if there was a problem. He wouldn’t let the chickens on the porch, and while he would never ever be the aggressor, he most certainly would not tolerate another dog trying to cause problems.
When Daisy and June would take off into the woods, he’d help us call them back. If the coyotes got too close to the house he’d take off bravely to run them off. Don’t let a delivery person even think about sneaking up on our house. He’d make you fear for your life. But he was a huge teddy bear.
About 10 months ago we noticed a minor limp and a tiny bump in his knee. Within days the bump began to grow. We quickly got him into the vet and he was originally diagnosed with bone cancer and given a few months. It didn’t seem quite right so we sought out another opinion. He was then diagnosed with tissue cancer and his leg was amputated. We had hoped that this would give us years with him, but we are beyond grateful for the extra months he had and the lessons we learned from him in those magic months. We have never known a dog with such a zest for life.
Three times we thought it was near his last time, but each time he made it clear he was still desiring to live. The Owls in the woods nearby hooted and he listened. The buds on the trees starting coming up. And we took him on a grand tour—to Atwoods, to Dreami Tea, to work.
Everyone who met him could sense there was something about him. He had a direct line into the eternal. He never met a person he didn’t like and he never left our side. He was a working dog, but perhaps his most important job was bringing life and magic to our small farm. In many ways he was the heartbeat of this place and it’s just not the same without him.
We buried him in the garden and purchased a currant bush to plant in his honor. We buried him there because it was a place he spent every day with Bryan, tending to the plants and keeping an eye out on the farm. Desto reminds us there is always joy; we are always dying and being born.
Leave a Reply