Somewhere along the line when I was eight or nine, a dog came into my life…and never left.

I have no memory of my age or the circumstances when he came to the Old Hyde Place, but Prince became my constant companion around the farm. He was a Collie with a beautiful coat and a wonderful disposition. He seemed to completely understand that his primary role in life was to take care of me, be my buddy, follow me into any adventure I undertook. I never looked around for him — he was always at my side.

I was his guy.

One day, a friend of mine from across two pastures — Chuck Shephard — came over to surprise me. It was rare in the summer months for country kids to visit one another. The distance between farm homes just didn’t make visits very compelling.

But Chuck had made the trip through the fields and walked up before I saw him.

But Prince saw him and quickly but gently pinned him up against a hedge with a paw on each side of him. Prince wasn’t angry, didn’t bark or snarl. He just held him in place until he knew whether he was friend or foe. Chuck was startled, of course, but very impressed; and as soon as I greeted my friend, Prince was licking his hand as if to say he was sorry, “but you understand, I have to protect my guy.”

Prince and I owned our world. We roamed the farm, looking for adventure, which we had to make up. It was actually pretty dull. But if you don’t know better, it’s fine. I would talk to him, tell him of my plans. And he would look up at me with seemed like complete understanding, wagging his tail in reassurance.

Occasionally, I would go out in the morning to find a dead rabbit or squirrel or bird on the front porch and Prince standing beside it, chest puffed out and clearly proud of his gift to me. Naturally, I thanked him, praised him for the excellent treasure. Then I would find something that I could use to pick up the critter and take it to the barn where I displayed it until I had a private moment to dispose of it without Prince around. I never wanted to hurt his feelings, either.

I remember there came a time on my tenth birthday when I got a bike as a gift. You have to understand what this meant in terms of freedom for a ten year old. Suddenly, my world became huge! I was no longer stuck with the 20 acres of hills, woods and fields of the Old Hyde Place.

I could now become a world traveler. And I took full advantage. I would ride the rough dirt and gravel roads for the ten or more miles that surrounded where we lived. In the summer after breakfast and chores, I was off to see the wizard wherever I could find him. I think I must have had the strongest legs of any kid my age from pushing that bike hard on those difficult roads up and down Missouri hills. The bike gave me access to places my folks and I had driven by in the car but were too far away for me to get to on foot. Now, my world was anywhere and everywhere I could travel on my bike.

But not so for Prince.

He was still stuck on the farm — and now without his guy. No more all-day adventures into the woods or down to the bottom acres or up to the old abandoned house in the cluttered dark woods at the far back of our farm. Prince would watch me get on my bike, wondering what the heck it was and why it had to be here anyway.

He would follow me to the edge of the driveway, eager for the day’s adventure, and then watch me ride off, telling him to stay home. I’m sure every time we got to the end of the drive, he was sure that would be the day when I would tell him to come along. But that day never came. I just rode off with my new found freedom.

I just know he would stand there looking down the road until I was out of sight. I can imagine that after watching and waiting for a long time to see me return without reward, he would turn back into the yard, find a shady spot, and try to sleep away the hours until my return.

I can imagine how lonely that must have been for him, wondering what he had done to lose his guy.

There came a time when I was in junior high that Prince, who by this time was pretty old for a dog, just disappeared one day. I walked every foot of the farm everyday for a couple of weeks, calling his name and looking to see if he had become trapped somehow. We spoke to neighbors to be on the lookout.

I waited and waited, just as Prince must have done when I rode away into freedom on my bike each day, leaving him to wonder why his world had become dark and lonely.

But Prince never returned.

It is occasionally the want of a farm family’s pet, especially a dog, that has become aware of its last days to simply wander off, die on its own and not burden its family with a sad goodbye. I’ve seen this happen more than once. I suspect that is what Prince did.

I think he didn’t want to see the sadness on my face and the tears in my eyes. I was his guy, and he never wanted to see me hurting.

Man, I loved that dog! I’ve had several dogs since, but Prince was my first dog. And as with love affairs, cars and homes, you never forget your first.

So while Prince never returned to the Old Hyde Place, in my heart he never left. Not even to this day.

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