Shaver Cummins 1998-2008
Me and Sheila were renting a farm house just outside of Paris (Kentucky, not France), when Shaver showed up. My Mother was very ill, and we came home from the ICU to find a tiny beagle mix meekly hiding behind a stereo speaker. People dump animals in the country all the time (sadly); we never saw any brother or sisters. It was the last time he’d ever be alone in the world.
We had two adult dogs at the time, a Collie named Woody, and a big, gruff Chow named Alex. We never understood how or why Alex let Shaver in the house without eating him. It was a decision Big Al would regret many times over the years to come, I’m sure.
I warned Sheila not to get attached to the puppy, and I made arrangements to take him to the Paris Animal Shelter. He was in a box, on top the counter, when my heart melted and I picked him up and brought him home. There was a message from Sheila on the answering machine pleading with me not to take him to the shelter.
Of course none of us could have predicted the reign of terror that the coming months would bring. Shaver celebrated his reprieve, his midnight call from the governor to the execution chamber, by dismantling my stereo system. No shoe, no article of clothing was safe. Unless he was sleeping, no other human or dog could close their eyes.
We had Shave fixed at a very early age, but it never stemmed his desire to ramble. For the 10+ years of his life, no fence, no cage, no vessel could contain him. He was a force of nature. When he was only a few months old, he disappeared for several days. We searched high and low to no avail. Sheila was devastated. Then one night, he calmly walked through the open door of the farmhouse, paused for a drink at the water bowl, then plopped down in front of the fan we had on the floor. No pomp or ceremony.
People think Shave got his name from my affection for the music of Billy Joe Shaver. In truth, it came from a description often used by my maternal grandfather, Herman Fryman, who referred to small children as “little Shavers”. Despite his lack of size, he was the definition of an Alpha male. Tough and fearless, he ruled the roost at our house his entire life, backing down much bigger dogs by sheer force of will. Like a lot of mutts (a term I use with the greatest affection), he was whip smart, out foxing his bigger brothers, me and Sheila, and Paris animal control, who tried in vain to catch him for the 5 or so years we lived around Paris.
There are dogs that you own, and there are dogs that grace you with their presence. Shaver was the latter. I’m a solitary person by nature but he and I had a bond that transcended any attempt to define it. We took, literally, a couple thousand walks together. He loved to ride in the Jeep with me, perched happily on the console between the seats, eagerly looking down the road for the next adventure. At night, when I’d come home after a show, his would be the first face to greet me.
Like me, Shaver really never felt at home living in an urban setting. I used to promise him that we’d move back to the country, and I’m happy that he spent the last 14 months of his life roaming the fields and woods of our little country farm out in Jessamine County. He loved it here, and he was happy, right to the end.
There are many, many things I will miss about my friend, and the greatest is the way he celebrated life. Shaver had a very intelligent, expressive face, and his joy was there for the world to see. Every walk, every meal, every nap, every puppy treat, every scratch on the head, was a moment to be relished, never taken for granted. As Iggy Pop so eloquently said, he had the “Lust for Life”.
Some people think that when we cross over, we are greeted by our loved ones departed, including our dogs. It makes me happy to believe this, and so I do. When my time comes, his will be one of the first faces I search for.
We put Shaver down yesterday (June 28, 2008). I expected to feel a LITTLE better today, buy my sense of loss is so profound, I can’t talk about it. Some kind souls have called with condolences, but at this point, I’d prefer a response to this eulogy. I’ll be able to respond in a few days, and I’ll be able to reconcile his passing as what it is, the inevitable cycle of life.
Thanks to all my friends and family for their support.
E.C.
Have a great day, Sheila-owned by Quentin (b&t,M, dobie), Maggie Mae(1/2 shar pei, 1/2 ?, F, from the pound), and Peaches (red dobie, F)
Missy
As a matter of fact the world does revolve around my DOBES !!!!!!!!!!!!!
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