Archie Warren: The Dog That Used Crosswalks
Yesterday, after a family frozen yogurt outing, we took a spin through our old neighborhood in the next town over. As we drove past our former house, I was hit with this wave of sadness I haven’t been able to shake.
I miss Archie.
Spring is a wonderful time in New England, mostly because we freakin’ earn it after dealing with these brutal winters.
Our old house was just a few steps from a beautiful walking and biking trail. One of the highlights of living there was how convenient it was to take the dogs on long walks once spring finally arrived each year.
Other walkers and runners constantly used to compliment us on their cuteness, and say how well-behaved they were walking together. They always trotted side by side, and stayed right next to me.
One time, our gate wasn’t latched properly and the duo got out of the yard and took off running down the street. My friend and neighbor Sheila, who was outside working in her yard, alerted us and sprang into action to help.
I was FREAKING OUT because A) we lived on a busy street; B) Archie, with a history of abuse and social problems, wasn’t super friendly to anyone but our family; C) that nearby path was packed with bicyclists going ten million miles per hour; and D) Lucy’s vision wasn’t that great. (She is now blind.)
Long story short, after 20 minutes of running and driving down various streets (and a handful panic attacks on my part), we found them.
The one thing I remember Sheila telling me, though, is how they perfectly followed all the rules of the road. They walked next to each other and stayed on the sidewalk. They crossed the streets using the crosswalks.
I’m sure that was Archie’s doing. A Jack Russell terrier, he was the smartest of smarty pants.
It’s been a little over a year since he passed, and right now, I am missing him so, so much. My daughter doesn’t even remember him, which makes me sad. Archie was her first word, other than mom and dad.
The sadness comes more infrequently as time passes, but when it hits, it hits hard.
Writing about him is my therapy.
I miss you so much, Archie. You were a good, sweet dog. I’m sorry someone was so shitty to you before you joined our family.
Archie keeping watch over the neighborhood, ready to warn us of the slightest movements.
**This has been a stream of consciousness post, so forgive me if the writing seems choppy.
The Wild Rumpus 