Tug, our family dog, died during the summer of 2023. She was twenty years old. We grieved for her; we missed her; and once we felt ready, we started searching shelter and rescue websites for another small adult female dog to adopt. Success eluded us until my husband found a picture of Reba, on the South Georgia Equine Rescue website. She looked soulful and sweet with the face, and fur color, of a little fox. She seemed absolutely perfect! Except for her name.
Her story goes like this: Reba (named by the rescue staff, in an obvious nod to her ginger colored fur) was found running in the “wilds of Waynesville, Georgia” with a rough and tumble pack. Estimated to be two years old, she was in heat, and had to be isolated from all the other dogs. She would be spayed, but not until her bleeding stopped. On December 4th, 2023 we were approved for adoption; but Reba would live at the rescue until her spaying in early January, 2024. Ok, we are patient people. We could wait. This also gave us time to plan for our new pet and to decide on a different name for her.
Then on December 8th, 2023 we got a rather frantic call from Heather who runs this rescue, asking us if we could take Reba home sooner. Several additional small dogs had been brought in making it harder to keep Reba separated. Without question we said yes and agreed to pick her up the following day; promising (crossing our hearts and hoping to die promising) to comply with the scheduled spaying in January. So with one day to prepare to welcome a dog in heat into our home, we not only made sure we had some of the basics like food, a collar, and a leash, we also decked our halls and beds and chairs with old linens. We had still not decided on a new name. We considered waiting to meet Reba to see if a new name was obvious; or maybe we should do what my clever daughter suggested and just rearrange the letters that spell Reba into something else. That something else my daughter had figured out was, Bear.
After a long ride, on a sunny and warm December 9th, 2023, we turned off the highway onto a rutted dirt road and drove to the rescue’s location. The property was fully fenced in and had a chained utility gate. Our arrival was ignored by the horses inside the fence but a pack of barking dogs charged to the fenced boundary. The racket they made left no doubt strangers had arrived. As planned, we phoned Heather and after several minutes a woman emerged from a trailer across the field carrying a small dog. As they got closer, I could see the dog was calm but looked wary, not nervous, just fearful. Maybe some of that was because the yard dogs had lost interest in us and ran to the woman, surrounding her and the dog in her arms, while continuing their shenanigans with noise and gusto. Or maybe it had more to do with all the recent disruptions and changes life had sent Reba’s way.
The woman made introductions,”I’m Heather and this is Reba”. Heather handed the dog over the locked gate to my husband along with some medicinal items in a plastic bag and just a few instructions. I noticed Reba’s small frame swam in the harness she wore, her fur was visibly soiled, matted to her tucked in tail and she smelled musty. We learned about her protruding sternum which complicates picking her up and what treatments for parasites she had already received. The meet and greet was short mainly because we did not have many questions. So we thanked Heather and left. In the car, Reba sat with me for the long ride home which at some point included a lap load of doggy vomit. We loved her already.
At first Paul and l were quiet in the car. Then Paul asked “Well what do you think?” “I think she needs a bath”, I replied. “I know, but what do you think we should name her?” he questioned; then without skipping a beat declared “I like the name, Bear”.
I looked down at the small bundle of ungroomed potential on my lap and saw how funny yet appropriate that name would be. She had endured living in tough circumstances. While we might never know exactly how tough those circumstances were, I knew this dog was a survivor and deserved a name honoring that quality. Bear is that kind of name. It symbolizes courage and power. So I agreed with Paul. We named her Bear.
We retired the name Reba. Relegated it to a past life, a hard life, a life where no one cared for or comforted this dog. That life ended when we brought Bear home with us for Christmas to live in her forever home. Bear’s life is easier now and we only mention Reba, if asked, “How did you name that little dog, Bear?”
