Darla the dog came to visit us in the fall of 2008. It was when we lived in that little duplex right by the train tracks with car-glass and graffiti in the backyard. She wasn’t scared of the train whistle and she wasn’t upset about our cats so we thought we’d try her in the house.
From that day, she lived with us for more than 16 years. Darla loved people. She expected that people were good. And she learned that at Old Tent City.
She was born by the river in a little tent, (or, more likely near a tent, but there aren’t songs about that.) We’ve heard it was a litter of eight puppies, three boys and five girls. She was a white dog with big black spots over her face and back and little black specks all over. One ear up and one ear down. And she grew up in community with people who had to take care of each other.
It was hard to get the story. First she was Carl’s dog and then Junebug took care of her (when Carl had a surgery) and then Carl moved back home and maybe Vegas took her for a little bit. Somewhere in there somebody fell on her and hurt her back. She recovered on her own but it never completely healed. Aunt Laurie got her to the vet and back. Dr. Mark did her first round of shots (and almost every checkup until her last). Jeannie saw that she was ready to leave and got her out.
She wouldn’t accept a treat from a stranger. She loved to see just about anybody, but was always suspicious of people coming toward her at dusk, especially through the woods. She would go all the way to the edge of the yard to poop, something else I assume she learned from campsite life. She was somehow housetrained from the first night she spent in a house.
Once she was ours she went everywhere. Spent days at The Contributor office greeting vendors. Learned to run all around Downtown Presbyterian Church (with only one close call on the ledge of the sanctuary balcony. All those Civil War ghosts weren’t gonna let that one fall.) She earned her AKC Canine Good Citizen status without even really trying. She was the fastest dog at the Shelby dog park from 2009 to 2011 (they don’t keep records, but I do.) She ate Tasha’s favorite hat and the Bible my aunt got me for my high school graduation. And she ate more chocolate than was recommended and killed more possums than I would have preferred (3). But other than that she was without flaw.
Old Tent City took care of Darla for her first nine months. She took care of us every year after. Herded us together. Let us know when the UPS guy was coming. Taught us games we never would have imagined on our own. (If you’ve never chased each other around, spinning on the rug, and squeaking Amazon packing-air-cushions until they finally pop, you’ve got to try it.) There’s so many people who took care of her along the way (Randy and Harold, Will and Kerri.) and there’s so much more to tell. But there always is.
Darla died on April 1 of this year. The day after eviction notices were handed out to Tent City residents — just before its 2025 closure. She was 17. She wasn’t the only great thing to come out of Old Tent City, but she was the one I loved the most.
In lieu of flowers, buy a Contributor from a vendor or send a “thank you” note to your vet on a day when all the pets are doing just fine.