FERDINAND AND THE DOGNAPPERS

In my early 20s, I was easily impressed and wanted all the trappings of success. I was a college student, working nights while attending classes during the day and poor as a church mouse. I needed incentive to continue with an exhausting schedule.

As I was heading to class after working all night, I saw a woman driving a Mercedes. On her lap was a beautiful dog hanging outside her window, capturing air in his mouth while his long, white hair was blowing in the wind. That image propelled me to finish a third degree and enter into a career that would enable me to afford a Mercedes and a Maltese. While I never became wealthy, I did all right and eventually enjoyed several Maltese dogs and one Mercedes. After owning the Mercedes for 10 years, a boyfriend coveted it, so I sold it to him for a handsome price. My last two dogs have been mixed breeds. I haven't been interested in appearing wealthy for years and happily drove a 2012 Prius until recently.

Not surprisingly, my first dog as an adult was a Maltese named Ferdinand. When he wasn't following me everywhere, I was carrying him. I loved him with all my heart. Ferdinand had been with me a few years when my child, Marcy, was born. My hearing disability made it difficult to hear her cry when she awakened. Ferdinand jumped off the couch and raced to her room at the first whimper. I suppose one would consider him one of the original service dogs for a disability other than blindness.

We had a home built when I was pregnant and moved into it a few weeks before Marcy was born. The contractor built another house near us. We toured the newly built home when close friends visited it together. Marcy was an infant in my arms as we walked to the house with Ferdinand trailing behind us.

We discovered Ferdinand was no longer with us as we finished our tour. Another couple was looking at the house but left soon after we entered. Over the next few days and between torrents of tears, I placed posters about a "lost dog" on telephone poles within a four-mile radius. We also bought ads in the paper.

A week later, I received a phone call from someone who lived about a mile away. The caller had noticed a dog matching the description on the poster. Ferdinand would come to her house during the day but disappear at night. One day, she followed the dog and noted the address of the dognappers. We raced to the caller's house and were reunited with our dog. We also filed a police report. We learned from the Police Chief that the couple was the same couple touring the house next door and had a dog that had recently died. The wife wouldn't stop crying, so the man took our dog to console her.

The case went to the Dallas County Grand Jury, and even though we testified, they did not indict the couple. They didn't consider it a crime. I wondered what happened to people who stole jewelry valued at over $300. Would they be indicted?

I later learned my husband's best friend decided to take justice into his own hands. Late one night, he shattered all the windows of the couple's car with a baseball bat. I didn't condone his behavior at the time, but I have to admit that my "shadow" smiles a little.

Marcy was around eight when she came into the kitchen one day and told me Ferdinand was on the bed and wouldn't get up. The veterinarian diagnosed him with congestive heart failure. Even though his life was extended for a few weeks, he became so weak that he couldn't lift his head when I visited him at the doggy hospital. I made the heart-wrenching decision to let go of my faithful companion of 13 years. After I told him goodbye, I stood outside the clinic door sobbing. It was challenging to tell Marcy that Ferdinand wouldn't be coming home. Most of us have to make that kind of decision about our pets throughout our lives, and it's never easy.

And now, with the years ahead of me being far fewer than the years behind, I know t will one day be with him and all the other "souls" I've loved.