Becky Holland
AMERICUS — It is a story that makes for a good family movie. You know the type — the ones that are shown on the Lifetime channel or a Sunday night Hallmark movie— heartwarming, touching, a story of a making of a family filled with all the happiness and hurts that go with it.
It is not “Marley and Me” or “Hotel for Dogs” or even “Old Yeller,” but it is a story of a dad, a daughter and a dog named Shotgun, and it happened right here in Americus. It is a story that will give you a warm, fuzzy feeling and at the same time make you see that families not only include two-legged individuals, but even four-legged animals, and that a bond can be initiated between father and child, husband and wife, mother and daughter because of, well, a dog (cat, horse, pig).
There is a mom in the story, too; in fact, Stacey Mathews is the one who tells the story. The dad is her husband Chris, a truck driver who has traveled all over the United States. The daughter is Ashleigh McCollum, who was a student of Dr. Hans-George Erney’s in English 1101-002 at Armstrong in Savannah last fall.
Stacey wanted the story told for her husband and her daughter, and in tribute of their beloved Jack Russell terrier, Shotgun.
The story began in February 1998, when Chris Mathews came back home to Ellaville from Alpharetta. Stacey and Chris weren’t married at that time. Chris knew he wanted a dog, and Stacey, who had been a pet lover and owner since her first pet — a monkey — when she was in the fourth grade, was all for it.
Stacey said, “Chris wanted the dog to be stocky.” Shotgun was found, and seemed to be a perfect fit. The marriage between Chris and Shotgun happened first, and then Stacey and Chris tied the knot soon after. Ashleigh was 10 when Shotgun joined the family and an instant friendship blossomed between Shotgun and the girl.
The family has their share of pets, as Stacey said, “I pick up strays and find them homes.” She admits to carrying an extra bag of dog food just for that purpose. It was the bond between Shotgun, Chris, Stacey and Ashleigh that was the strongest.
Stacey leaned back in her chair, and fiddled with a ribbon with paws on it, “My daughter has taken up scrapbooking, and she fixed this up for Shotgun.” She pointed to some stickers with sayings, “Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole — Roger Caras” “Whoever said you can’t buy happiness, forgot little puppies-Gene Hill” and ‘”The dog is man’s best friend. He has a tail on one end. Up in front, he has teeth. And four legs underneath-Ogden Nash.”
And so the story goes …
Picture a white Jack Russell with large black eyes and a stocky build — a real man’s dog with a love of “squirrel chasing and semi-truck riding” — and you will see Shotgun.
“Shotgun had over one million miles on him. He rode with Chris everywhere in his truck, and they would travel all over together,” Stacey said, looking at a picture of her husband and his best four-legged buddy.
“The relationship they had was one that no one understood,” smiling, and half-joking, she continued, “He loved the dog more than me.”
But that was OK with her.
“When you saw Chris, you saw Shotgun. They traveled to Florida, South Carolina, Texas, North Carolina, Tennessee, Mississippi, Louisiana, Oklahoma, and Virginia together. Other truck drivers knew of Shotgun,” said Stacey.
“I remember one time, Chris called me and said he was in Florida. He told me he had, quote, lost his dog, unquote. I thought, how in the world do you lose your dog, especially one who is always right there with you. Chris said they found him like three hours later in this restaurant where Chris was, eating in the kitchen out of the hands of the cook. Back then, it wasn’t funny, but now it is,” she said.
Shaking her head, Stacey recalled how many times Chris would get a request on the radio, “from individuals who would see him driving to hear Shotgun over the radio.”
Daughter Ashleigh watched the relationship between the father figure in her life, Chris, and the dog, Shotgun, and fell in love even more with both, as a daughter should.
In an essay that Ashleigh wrote for her English class at Armstrong, she described Shotgun’s beginning with her family like this, “Six weeks old, he had nothing but a name and a family with wide open arms to nurture him forever.”
Her description of Shotgun seemed to be a resemblance of how she saw Chris as well. “A combination of an attitude of a feisty king precisely mixed with a massive, teddy bear character to create something so special and irreplaceable. Countless qualities create his soul; however, his friendship and loyalty is my favorite.”
With tears in her eyes, Stacey said, “We had to put Shotgun down last Oct. 6. He had cancer.”
Stacey said, “Last July, we learned that Shotgun had Stage 4 cancer, and we did everything possible for him, i.e. gave him medication at least four times a day, took him to specialists, begging for them to cure him, took him to Dr. Kyler Crawford for check-ups, cleaned up after him when he would get sick on the floor, making him comfortable when he needed it and prayed.”a
As Shotgun became sicker and weaker, it was evident to the Mathews family that Shotgun couldn’t travel with Chris in the truck. “The look on Shotgun’s face when Chris would pull out of our driveway in the semi was hard to watch. He would just lay down on the driveway, watching the truck pass him.”
The tears and sadness in her heart over the memory caused Stacey to quiet for a moment. “It was hard enough to watch Chris — this strong man— show the emotions he did over watching Shotgun dying — seeing Shotgun watch Chris leave … ”
On Oct. 6, 2008, with family and friends around them, Chris and Stacey knew the time had come to let Shotgun go. Their veterinarian, Crawford, came to the family home to do as Stacey said, “make our beloved Shotgun comfortable.
“Ashley couldn’t be with us. She is 19 and attending college in Savannah at Armstrong. When we told her of the passing of Shotgun, she just dropped the cell phone and I could hear her crying,” Stacey said.
Chris wasn’t in the room when it happened, though he was close, saddened, crying and calling for “Shotgun,” “as his mom stayed with him, hugging him and holding his hand.”
Stacey paused, biting her lip, describing that day not only in person, but in a long, detailed letter filled with emotion and purpose. “As I laid Shotgun down on his favorite blanket beneath the row of Leland trees, I could hear my husband, Chris, crying and calling for his constant companion … I was there when Shotgun took his last breath and then, there was peace. It was one of the hardest things that we had to do as a family … there is a void there that can never be filled.”
The Mathews do have other pets — four Jack Russells (Bullet, Eddie, Hayden and Zip), three cats and two outdoor dogs, but it was Shotgun who made the difference and helped start this family.
Ashleigh wrote in her paper, called “The Inevitable Goodbye,” of Shotgun’s passing, “The loss of a family member is astronomical, but the loss of a longtime friend can be just as painful. What happens when you learn your most precious moments, the sunsets, sunrises, and all events in between will come to an sooner rather than later … My father, the strongest man in my life, breaks down after losing his rock, his best friend, who has never gone one night without the simultaneous breathing of man and his best friend … so, this is how death feels? How would one know if it has never been broken before or felt an ounce of pain … Life will go in slow motion after his soul has moved to a new home … Time will go by and each day will be an easier hill to climb … For the past week, I have had life’s most brutal lesson thrust in my face … Life is not guaranteed, so live each day, each morsel, for what it is worth and nothing less..”
The Mathews family will go on. The father, the daughter will be as they are, perhaps a little closer, a little different, because of a dog named Shotgun.
What a story!
