Bandit, a faithful companion

After our family began, we had not had any pets until after the children were in school. At first we started small—things like gerbils, frogs, fish, baby bunnies. We pretty much stayed away from snakes, lizards, and other scary things like that.

Finally, in November 1989, we broke down and acquired a family dog. Fourteen-year-old Rachael described our dog in the December 1989 issue of the Family Journal:

"On Tuesday, November 7, Bandit came into our lives. A pure-bred Golden Retriever—who, like her mother, Melody, loves people—Bandit was received with much enthusiasm.

"After hearing that one of Melody's children needed a new home, a family council was held. We discussed the need to take care of Bandit responsibly: to feed her, brush her, take her for walks, and clean up her messes. But even after all that, we decided to get her.

"Bandit has gotten a lot of attention since that cold November night, from the neighborhood as well as our family. Perhaps too much. It seems that she has become so accustomed to people that she can't handle being alone. She barks and scratches at the door at night until we let her in.

"But in spite of all that, we still love Bandit as we would any other new family member. As Mary so eloquently put it, 'We love her so, so much!'"

When she joined our family that November, just short of her third birthday, we thought Bandit wasn't a very good name for such a beautiful female dog. Plus there were a couple of other Bandits in the neighborhood. Apparently a popular dog's name in those days. Sixteen-year-old Michael lobbied to change her name to Bathsheba, Dad for Tess or even Bandy, but we never could agree on anything—so Bandit just stuck. After all, that had been her name for three years already. We didn't want to confuse the poor creature. Five-year-old Mary used to call her Kitty, however.

Toward members of the family and other people she knew, Bandit was a gentle, patient dog who loved to be around people. At night she would lie next to the little children or at the side of Mom and Dad's bed. In the morning she insisted on coming into the front room, which originally was off limits to her, to be with everyone for family prayer. The same for family home evenings on Monday nights. After church or on other occasions when the whole family was gone, she would go out of her mind for joy when we returned, her tail wagging or thumping wildly, her eyes bright with excitement. Sometimes she'd be up on her hind legs, especially with twelve-year-old Talmage, as if she were dancing.

She especially seemed to love Mom and became well aware of her nightly and daily routines. She loved to be petted and often would hold up a front paw, in lady-like fashion, for someone to hold or pet. Mom and the younger children would let her lick their bare legs or feet or even faces.

Bandit sometimes enjoyed watching television with the children, especially cartoons or shows with animals in them. The video of Lady and the Tramp was her favorite and would often elicit barks.

She never did learn how to play catch. If she caught a ball or stick or anything else in her mouth, she'd just keep it tightly clenched in her teeth and not let it go.

On Friday morning, March 16, 1990, Bandit was playing in the front yard with Mary. About 8:30 Bandit dashed into the street, as she sometimes would, just as one of our neighbors, Dan Dearden, was coming along in his van. Bandit was hit and died moments later. Another neighbor, Boyd Martin, who had been a veterinarian for many years, came out to see if he could help and said the injuries were too severe for her to have survived.

Disbelief and sadness were the immediate reactions.

In her journal the next morning, almost-seven-year-old Eliza wrote: "Mary let Bandit out, and she [Bandit] was playing around, and she saw Dan Dearden's car, and then she saw a cat, and she went to the cat on the other side of the street, and then Dan Dearden's car didn't see her, and she got hit. Michael said, 'I think Bandit just got hit.' And Mom went outside to see her. And she went to get the vet, and when they came out Dad Dearden said she was already dead. They tried to make her still live, but there was too much blood. Mom didn't want to take off her collar, so she told Michael to do it. And after they took off the collar, Brother Martin said to get a big blanket, and they carried the blanket into the carport and put Bandit on it. And me and Mary wanted to see Bandit, and Michael let us pet her before she went to the animal shelter, and they picked Bandit up by her hands and legs. She died with her eyes opened. Jenny [Swenson] saw her and went back and told us Bandit looked at us. After they took her to the animal shelter, me and Mary started crying, and Mom told to Jenny that's why you should look both ways before crossing the road. And when Milla got home, she started to cry. Mom said that sometime we'd get a new dog. Becca said we'd have lots of animals after they're resurrected, and Milla tried to name all of them: Snowball [the cat], the baby bunnies, and Talmage's birds, and Bandit, and the gerbils, the frogs, and the fish—oh, and the bumble bee."

Five-year-old Mary wrote in her journal: "Yesterday me and Bandit went outside. I was looking at the snow. Then I looked under Dan's car. I yelled, 'Mom!' And then Michael looked out the window. I went inside, and me and Eliza started crying, and then Mom came in and started crying too. Then we started calling people to know that Bandit was dead. And then we were going to have lunch at a park, then we started to think about Bandit. Before we went Bandit got took to Animal Control.

"The day before yesterday we went up to Grandma's with Bandit. We made a little house, and Bandit was having fun, and when we went sledding Bandit followed us. After we went sledding we all went inside, and Bandit had to stay outside, and then for a few whiles Bandit stayed outside, and then we let her in after a few whiles. She went up and she went down. She was so happy. And then a few whiles after we went home. When we went home, we were all together with Bandit."

And thus ended a short chapter in the history of our family. Just a few days before her death, I had heard this saying at work: "For a proper perspective on life, every person should have a dog who adores him and a cat who ignores him." Bandit certainly adored us. In the four months she was with us, she became a full-fledged member of the family and filled our hearts and our lives with her loving, trusting ways. In every way she was a faithful, loyal companion.