The following is an image of my best friend from childhood.
His name was Ming Toi Tu, and he was a bona fide, purebred toy Pekingese who was descended from a long line of award winning show dogs. He had his papers, but he wasn’t snooty about it. Ming didn’t look down his nose at anyone.
My parents ruined his chances to be a show dog himself by having him “fixed,” but he still thought he was quite a stud. Nobody had the heart to tell him otherwise. This proud little dog strutted with a manly gait, his tail curled high over his back and his chest stuck out as far as it would go. This dog was no pampered pooch, and he wouldn’t sit still for primping. He loved to get out and romp around. He liked to run with the big dogs. Ming Toi was afraid of nothing.
Early in his life, this miniature mutt deemed himself my “protector,” and he was at my side constantly. If you have had a loyal dog before, you know exactly what he was like. If another dog approached me (even a huge Great Dane) Ming Toi was known to leap up and latch on to the larger dog’s jowls. Like a snapping turtle, he wouldn’t let go until lightning struck, or until I pulled him away. No one else could ever unclamp his jaws.
Now, my Daddy thought that Ming was “stupid,” but that was just plain wrong. I figure it this way: the dog knew how to get people to open doors for him and how to get them to feed him. How stupid could that be? But I have to admit that the pup was a clown. When I was little, he even let me dress him up like one. More than that, though, Ming Toi was as stubborn as a mule.
This dog followed every footstep that I took, and when I was a teenager that was a lot of steps. My favorite thing to do when my family went to Paw Paw Creek Resort on Lake Texoma every weekend was to take long walks in the woods and along the shores of the lake. Ming Toi was my constant companion.
As we walked, I always searched on the ground for rocks. I don’t know why anymore, but I was fascinated by the stones I found on my walks. Near Texoma, it wasn’t unusual to find petrified wood or fossils of sea creatures. I still have a bowl full of rocks that I deemed worthy of bringing back to the house. Often I picked up a rock and decided I didn’t want it. I tossed it back on the ground and Ming Toi always picked it up in his mouth and trotted along behind me. Usually he carried the rock all the way home.
One day, I unintentionally confused him. As we picked our way along the rocky beach not far from our trailer, I tossed a rock I was carrying into the shallow water. Ming dropped the rock that he already had in his mouth and walked out into the water. With his bulging eyes wide open, that dog ducked his head into the water to retrieve it. He brought it back and laid it on the shore next to the other rock he had carried. While he had his head underwater, Ming had evidently noticed other rocks in the sand. He want back into the water and brought out another rock and dropped it beside the first two. For the next hour, I sat on the banks of the lake watching and giggling as this silly dog returned to the water to fetch rock after rock. He brought each one back and put it in his pile. I called to him, but he wouldn’t be distracted from his mission, whatever on earth that mission might have been. He kept after it with single minded purpose and would not give up until he had finished whatever it was that he felt he had to do.
At last Ming Toi’s little pea brain registered that he had done his task. With a goofy grin on his face, and dripping wet, Ming Toi crawled into my lap. After a contented sigh about a job well done, he closed his eyes and fell asleep. I had to carry the poor little fella home, because he was all tuckered out.
Ming Toi has been in “Doggy Heaven” for more almost three decades now. I haven’t had a dog in several years, and I guess I’m a “cat lady” now. Tonight, sitting in a lonesome hotel room, I’ve been thinking about that little buddy of mine. I miss his unwavering devotion and his unconditional love, because cats just don’t give that up to a human.
And, tonight I’m envying his single minded attention to a task. I wish I could muster the same.
