Harry had some dogs in his young life, but the one that really stole his heart was Ginger, an abandoned dog we rescued literally from the jaws of death shortly after we moved to Missouri in 1973.
by Barbara Brabec
Excerpted from THE DRUMMER DRIVES! EVERYBODY ELSE RIDES
WE HAD MOVED to the Branson, Missouri area from Florida that year because we had some property there we thought we might build on. That never happened, but this move was a blessing because it brought an amazing dog into our lives.
One day while we were checking on our property, we spied a dog watching us from the woods. Obviously yearning for human companionship, she cautiously crawled towards us on her belly, as if fearful of being struck, and I managed only a quick touch to her head before she turned and ran away. We learned from neighbors that she had been badly abused by her owner, who had recently died of a brain tumor. When his wife left the properly, she also left the dog behind to fend for itself.
We couldn’t stand the thought of this dog’s suffering, so the next day we searched for her in the woods, and I was able to lure her to me with some food. She was near death when we brought her back to our home, literally starving and covered in blood-sucking ticks. We planned on cleaning her up and then taking her to the pound so she could be adopted, but she quickly wormed her way into our hearts, and neither Harry nor I could bear to part with her. We named her Ginger, and Harry absolutely adored her.
After adopting Ginger, we bonded with her by bringing ourselves down to her level, often going nose-to-nose with her.
WHEN GINGER DIED, we felt as though we’d lost a part of ourselves. In those years when Harry and I were struggling so hard to get through the darkest days of our marriage and his work disappointments (see Chapter 13 of The Drummer Drives! Everybody Else Rides), Ginger could always bring a smile to our faces. She was always the one stable thing in our up-and-down lives, the “child” we’d never had, and often the glue that held me and Harry together at times when our marriage seemed to be falling apart. She gave us immeasurable joy in the darkest of days and was as important to Harry’s emotional stability as I was.
When he and I were “on the outs,” she was a bridge between us, and he would often communicate with me through her when I was within earshot, saying such things as, “Ginger, mommy is mad at me, and I don’t know what to do about it. Do you think we should all go for a walk together?”
The minute Ginger heard the word “walk,” she would come bounding to me with “yes, yes!” in her eyes, and the three of us would come together as a joyful family. While her death pained us terribly, it also brought me and Harry closer as we grieved her loss together. For years afterward whenever we were in the car, we felt as though she was still there in the back seat, ready to give Harry a lick on the ear, or patiently waiting to lick the milkshake container when we stopped at a drive-in. I dreamed about her for years. She was such a perfect companion for us that we could never bring ourselves to get another dog.
“No other dog could measure up to Ginger,” Harry always said, and I agreed. She was as much a one-of-a-kind dog as he was a one-of-a-kind man.
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I WAS INVOLVED IN A BOOK ABOUT GINGER when my muse suddenly struck and caused me to lay that work aside to write my memoir about life with Harry. But I plan to get back to my Ginger book soon.
