[ SHOWGSD-L ] NO HOUSE IS EVER EMPTY - (just a lazy Sunday afternoon read)
- From: Barbara Galasso <uwish@xxxxxxxxxx>
- To: showgsd-l@xxxxxxxxxxxxx, Germanshepherds4show@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Sun, 09 Jul 2006 16:08:23 -0400
NO HOUSE IS EVER EMPTY
By
Barbara J. Galasso
She rests on an overgrown, weed invaded knoll set far back from the
dusty dirt road. One would have to travel many back roads through the
crooks and crevices of the moss covered floor that blankets the darkened
forest to find her. Follow the stream that empties in to the small pond
that runs through her back yard. There you’ll see her. Her proud
structure of river rock and lumber holds the majestic dwelling that has
stood against the test of time. A weather beaten wooden sign still hangs
by its hinges swinging in the brisk breeze of the afternoon sunlight. If
one looks closely, they can still see the bold etching of the block
letters spelling out the words “Barlow German Shepherds.”
You will have to push your way through the heavy underbrush and thick
weeds that compete to bar your entrance to the front door. You’ll climb
the steps leading to the porch with its wind blown tree twigs and
branches scattered haphazardly across her paint chipped floor. You
sheepishly peek in her windows like you’re expecting someone will catch
you. All is still. All is quiet. You take the key out of your pocket
that the caretaker gave you and put it in the keyhole as you gently turn
the doorknob. A large cobweb that decorates the entranceway releases its
hold and the door slowly opens to welcome her first visitor in many years.
As you step from the porch to the foyer, you feel as though you’ve just
crossed over into another time and place. You walk through her halls and
rooms leaving your footprints on her heavily dusty floors announcing
your presence from one room to the next. You suddenly find yourself
standing in the large living room with the floor to ceiling fireplace
made out of the same river rock as the exterior of the house. It is in
this room with her large windows and French doors that leads to the back
yard that something catches your eye. You open the doors and step out on
to the patio. You squat down on bended knees as you try to look through
the thick bushes and trees that block your view. You make your own path
as you scurry to get through the obstacle course of the unkempt
landscape. It’s then that you see what teased you to come out of the
house in the first place. At first you are taken aback by the huge
bronze structure of a German Shepherd Dog and you think how out of place
it seems standing alone on the over grown grass and weeds that encircle
it’s base. Then raising your eyes as you follow the outline of the
statue, you see the gate that the life like figure seems to be guarding.
Beyond the gate is where your eyes rest upon the kennels of Barlow.
You estimate that each run must be at least forty feet long as you begin
to count the thirty runs that make up the kennels. As you pass by each
cemented run, you notice dog houses with plaques that have the animals
names engraved on them. You walk back to the gate that let you in and
once again look up at the imposing bronze figure that blocked your
entry. It too has a plaque with a name on it. You look closer and you
see it spells out the name of “Thunder.” Upon closer examination, it
reads: “GV Ch Barlow’s Thunderbolt ROM”, Highest Register of Merit of
all time! The smaller numbers read 1958 – 1971. You’ve heard of this dog
who dominates many pedigrees although many generations removed by now.
A sudden wind kicks up and it’s time for you to make your way back to
your car. You walk several feet away from the kennels and turn to look
one last time upon them. You notice one very dried up knuckle bone lying
in the corner of one of the front kennels that even the flies have lost
interest in many years ago and wonder about the dog that left it behind.
As you draw further away from the kennel and closer to the house, the
bronze statue again plays hide and seek through the thick bushes and
trees until it once again disappears into the scenery.
As you lock up the front door and descend down the front steps, the
caretaker drives up to meet you. “So, what do you think of the old
place?” he asks you. “It’s amazing,” you answer him. I can’t believe
that I got to see the prestigious Barlow kennels. All my life, I heard
my parents talk about this place and it’s famous German Shepherds. “What
did you think of that bronze statue of Thunder?” he asks you. “Pretty
awesome, don’t you think?” “I never seen anything like it,” you tell
him. “But it’s also kind of sad at the same time,” you say. “What do you
mean?” he questions you. “Well,” you say, everything is empty now. All
the famous dogs and their people are gone. There’s nothing left but the
bronze statue and the empty house and kennel.” The caretaker corrects
you. He tells you, “No house is ever empty.” You look at him with a
quizzical expression on your face. He continues. “No house is ever
empty, that once had life in it. This is where new life, new dreams, new
visions and new hope were born. A house never dies just because its
owners are no longer physically there. Sometimes if you listen hard
enough, you can still hear them. “What are you talking about?” you
interrupt him. “The dogs,” he says. “The dogs.” Just then it starts to
rain and you both climb back in to your cars. You roll your window down
and say “Good bye and thank you,” and acknowledging you with a wave of
his hand, the caretaker drives back down the dusty road.
As you turn your windshield wipers on, you hear a faint noise. You turn
them back off again. Now you don’t hear anything. So you sit a little
while longer. You look back towards the house and then you hear the
noise again coming from around the side of the dwelling. You stick your
head out of the window just a little bit to listen for the sound that
never comes again as the rain softly caresses your face. If you didn’t
know better, you could have sworn you heard dogs barking off in the
distance. But, everything is silent. You brush it off, thinking it must
have been the swooshing sound made by the progression of the windshield
wipers against your front window. You turn them on again and start to
make your way back down the long dirt road. The rain is starting to come
down heavier now as you struggle to see in front of you. Just then
something darts out in front of the car. It looks like it was a stray
dog, but you can’t be sure because of the blinding rain. It disappears
in to the thick bushes on the opposite side of the road. You slam your
brakes on and sit there with just the hypnotic back and forth motion of
the wipers to keep you company. A flash of lightening crackles in the
sky and the roar of “Thunder” can be heard over the mountains. The words
of the caretaker whispers to you, “No house is ever empty.”
--
Barbara J. Galasso
CHIEFTAINS GERMAN SHEPHERDS
Visit my website at http://chieftainsgermanshepherds.com
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