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Goldie used to rule our yard, in the spring of 2003 he was a handsome 6 year old, and was the alpha male in the backyard feral colony. He would grace me at breakfast with a head butt against my legs and allow me to pet him while he ate and had finally begun to let my husband, too. He was a special boy, ran the colony even though we had him neutered several years earlier and he wasn't really the largest male. But Goldie cared the most, shepherding all the kittens and cats away from dangers, and to food and shelter always first out to make sure it was safe and always last to leave making sure to hold dangers at bay until he was sure that everyone else was clear. He had appointed himself the backyard guardian.
In late February I commented that he was acting different, late for breakfast - sleeping on the work tarp instead of his usual lookout high on the woodpile or in the doghouses we had set up for the colony. We figured it was warmer in the sawdust than on top of the wood pile and probably time to spring clean the dog houses. March started out uneventfully, but that didn't even last the whole day. We had dozed off watching TV and were awakened by the sounds of a dog fight, yelps and growls. The next sound froze my blood and heart and made me move faster toward the door and yard - a cat screamed in pain and terror. My husband flew past me on longer legs, both of us propelled by a sense of urgency, he called back, "get him", and disappeared into the woods and the darkness. I had seen him charge at two dogs, then I saw the "him" I was charged to get, the small bundle the dogs had dropped. Goldie was dragging himself toward me, his back legs dragging uselessly behind him and my heart screamed "NO". As I tried to grab a nearby crate to transport him, he slid into the shallow crawl space under the house and out of reach. I stood sobbing and shaking in the dark I realized I couldn't get Goldie, didn't know where my husband was, and could hear the dogs in the distance. Slowly, I became aware that these were probably the same dogs that had come after me several times over the past year; I began to experience something else as I stood in the dark, fear. Fear for Goldie, fear for my husband, fear the dogs would come back as I sat in the dark calling Goldie to come to me. I called 911 in tears, waited for help and kept calling Goldie. He looked but stayed out of reach. Help came, and my husband finally returned. It took an hour to get Goldie in the narrow confined crawl space, I had already called the vet's office and they were on standby. I made the drive in tears while my husband waited to see if the dogs returned.
We thought we had been lucky, Goldie had been released before they broke any bones or damaged his spine, although our vet had commented there seemed to be two sets of wounds, one several days older. This may have explained the sleeping in the sawdust on the tarp - it was on the ground, and it appeared he had been sleeping there when they got him that night. His wounds were severe, but he was young and strong. We went to visit daily and he seemed so glad to see us. He was fighting to get well, they had to muzzle him for treatment but he still won their hearts, and they stared in amazement as he pulled his body into my arms every day when we visited and laid his head on my shoulder and purred. We didn't realize how deep the wounds were, and he lost his fight to septic blood poisoning 8 days later.
We buried Goldie near the side entrance to our yard, where he could always be on watch. His grave is marked by a garden angel, but Goldie is the guardian angel in our yard.
So, Goldie makes his periodic rounds and I say a quiet hello when he passes. I miss his head butts and the softness of his fur in the sunrise. I feel like he is still watching, protecting his colony. I'll try to look after them for you. Take time to watch the rainbow too little guardian, watch over your earthly family, but take time to play too. You have earned that.
