McTavish: A Real-Life Dog Hero

During the early 50's my Daddy hit a particularly low point in his checkered career as a photojournalist and disc jockey. At this time, he lived in Wichita Falls, Texas which he described as forlorn and gloomy. One day Daddy was walking forlornly down a gloomy Wichita Falls street when he noticed a dirty, bedraggled little puppy up ahead. It cringed against a brick wall as each passerby approached. When Daddy passed by, the puppy ran out and followed him. Happy to have a friend, Daddy went straight to the butchers' shop and bought a pound of hamburger meat. He fed the puppy on the sidewalk in front of the butcher shop then took her home, cleaned her up, and (for no apparent reason) named her Mc Tavish. This was the start of a beautiful friendship.

Daddy often commented "I've had Mc Tavish longer than I've had your Mama." And it was true. He met Mama a few years later, and they often told the story of their first date wherein they took Mc Tavish to a drive-in movie. They sat in the front. Mc Tavish sat in the back. Every time Daddy started to put his arm around Mama, Mc Tavish would stick her head between them. Regardless, they were married, and I came along a few years later.

One day, not too long after I was born, there was a tremendous rainstorm. When it finally cleared, Daddy decided to take McT for a walk along a nearby creek. The water was high and fast. Suddenly McT leaped into the water and swam away. Daddy was scared to death that she would be drowned. He ran along the side of the creek trying to keep up with her, but she soon disappeared from view. He kept running, and eventually she came running back up the path carrying a half-drowned kitten. She took that kitten home and raised it with her own puppies.

McT never learned to do tricks. They just didn't make sense to her or to Daddy. However, Daddy always maintained that she would do any sensible thing that you asked her to (and some that you didn't!) Her next great feat proved that point.

In the late 50's we lived in Killeen, Texas. One day we were picnicking at a nearby lake when it became very windy. We were packing up to leave when we heard shouts for help and noticed an old man running with difficulty up and down the shore. His grandson had been swimming in the lake and the fact that his life jacket was too loose and stuck up too high above the water had caused him to be blown out into the center of the lake.

The old man began shedding his jacket and shoes, preparing to go in after his grandson. Daddy and McT ran down to the water's edge. Daddy said, "Wait, let me see if my dog will go." He told her to go, and in she went. She swam out to the boy, who took hold of her collar, and she towed him to the dock. A few people had gathered to see the rescue. A bystander pulled the boy to safety. Daddy, ever ready with the camera, was taking pictures. He dashed home to develop them, and they appeared in the local paper the next day.

This was McT's last act of heroism (making her two up on most of us.) Her real heroism was her constant faithful love, comfort and companionship that she gave to me and my mother and the unconditional loyalty she gave to the complex, temperamental, and difficult man who was my father. She died at 16.