About fourteen years ago, my parents brought home this goofy white German shepherd and gave him an even goofier name. Festus was really into chasing cars and was scared to death of thunderstorms, so badly that if we didn’t leave the garage door cracked wide enough for him to slide under, he’d chew his way through if it stormed hard enough. He destroyed more than one storm door, garage door, and screen in his long lifetime. Amazing that a dog that big who loved nothing more than to run up to a speeding vehicle full tilt could be spooked so easily by one clap of thunder.
My favorite Festus story happened when I was in high school. My mom, Phil, and I were sitting in the den, watching An American Werewolf in Paris one night while it stormed outside. The movie was supposed to be scary, even if I don’t remember being scared. We had the lights off so the room was lit by nothing but the TV, and suddenly during some climactic scene, this huge white dog comes lumbering through the doorway and right toward us. We had a momentary freakout until we realized that Festus, scared of the storm, had somehow Houdinied his way into the house and was coming to find us for comfort.
Festus was hit by a car yesterday. He hadn’t been chasing cars — he gave that up a few years ago when he finally injured one of his legs so badly that he couldn’t run for much of anything — but he had been down by the road, sniffing through garbage that had fallen off the back of a passing truck. My parents had been down by the road too, cleaning up what they could of the mess. Dad said they were walking away and my mom was calling for Festus to follow them, but he couldn’t hear her (he’s nearly deaf). She said to my dad that she just didn’t want to see him get hit by a car. Sure enough, minutes later, someone came speeding over the hill and that had been that. Dad said mom laid out in the road with Festus, crying over him. It’s hard to let go of a friend who’s been with you that long, and around the Turner compound, we love our animals with a fierceness. Dad says he didn’t think Festus would have made it through the winter anyway. But I sure hate to see him go out like this.
Festus, you were a good friend. You were big and dirty and smelly but you had a grin that wouldn’t quit, and you were loyal to the end. I’ll miss you, buddy.
