Sweet as Tupelo Honey

Cabell as a puppy

We had three dogs when we moved down to central Virginia: Saint Jack the Rottweiler; Gypsy, Queen of the Universe; and squirrely little Vito.  Sometime in the spring of 2001 we walked into a pet store to buy food.  Animal Connections was set up out front, trolling for adopters.  I looked and walked on in, but a big, mixed breed pup caught Clay's eye.  That's how we met Cabell.  His mother was a Saint Bernard and his daddy was a traveling man.  Cabell was 4-6 months old at the time, I believe, so it was obvious that he was going to be a good sized dog.  Karin Straley and the foster mom came to our place later that day or the next and Cabell was ours.

He and Gypsy bonded immediately and were close companions until she died.  Cabell was the only dog, ever, who could get the serious-minded Gypsy to let loose and play.  He could goad her and annoy her in ways that she would never have tolerated from any other dog.  We let Gypsy raise him, which in retrospect probably wasn't a great idea, but Cabell had none of her distrust, fear, and suspicion of strangers.

Cabell and Bremo

In adopting Cabell, we got acquainted with Animal Connections and embarked on fostering dogs for the next 13 years and counting.  A couple months after we got Cabell we brought home Molly, our first foster.  She gave birth to a litter of rottie mix pups, one of whom was our Bremo.  So Cabell and Bremo were together for all of Bremo's life and most of Cabell's.  They were like two friends who grew up together and never lost contact.  I was very glad that they had each other for companionship as they got old.  Bremo made it to 12-13 years old, and Cabell lasted until he was 13, going on 14.  Both dogs were upwards of 100 pounds, so that's a good old age for dogs of that size.

There are very few good pictures of Cabell.  Most are blurry and show him turning away because he hated having his picture taken.  He would get up and leave the room whenever he saw a camera come out.  It was always rather frustrating because he was such a handsome dog.  His coat and his eyes were the color of honey.  He had a black muzzle, four white socks, and a world class tail.  Cabell's tail was long and thick and he carried it curled up high over his back like a flag.  The underside of the tail was white.  When the grass in the pasture was tall you could generally still spot Cabell's tail bobbing through the tall grass like a white tailed deer.  Cabell's muzzle turned to grey as he got older, giving him a very distinguished look.  Although he was pretty playful and goofy when he was young, as he matured he grew into a distinguished gentleman so the new look fit him well.


He had been living with a diagnosis of kidney disease for several years but was generally doing pretty well.  He had remarkably few health problems throughout his life.  He's been deaf for some time now so getting him back inside from his strolls around the yard involved so much hand signaling that I felt like the airport landing crew directing planes to and from their departure gates.  He had been developing some signs of dementia, could no longer do the stairs to the second floor, and was just generally slowing down, but still doing pretty well.  The last couple days, however, things seemed to be going south and this morning I found him standing listlessly in the middle of floor with labored breathing and I felt the time had come to let him go.

Cabell never met a stranger.  He didn't have an instinct to fear, distrust, or be angry at anyone and he was never given a reason to develop one.  He was always good with everyone of every gender and every species.  He's as sweet as tupelo honey, and he's an angel of the first degree.

I'm going to miss that face.

This is the quintessential Cabell picture, tail carried high
curled up over his back, and facing away from the camera.