I had hoped to return to my regular content by now but this subject is still weighing heavily on my mind and I do not think that I can write again, until I express my feelings about it. I have written about my ailing dog a few times over the last two weeks and, unfortunately, his suffering became too great as his condition worsened. October 10th was his last day of life and as his world ended, devastation crept into mine. I know, on an intellectual level, that he is better off not being made to suffer another few days of decline and pain (things were bad on his last day and he did not deserve to experience that) but that does not reduce the sense of loss that I now feel. I watched in denial, at first, then in horror as this being who had never been anything but perfect friend and a fearless guardian (not just of myself but of everything and everyone that he felt was being unfairly attacked) slipped into a state of misery that I was powerless to prevent. He had been declining for a few weeks but three days before he died, he stopped eating and, on his last day, he could no longer hold down water and he completely lost the ability to walk. I needed help to get him into the car (he was very large and I could not lift him on my own without risking causing him more pain) and I was forced to wait with him until that help arrived. I did my best to comfort him but there was not much that I could do. He looked bad and he cried (so did I) and those images and sounds, I fear, are forever burned into my memory. However, that is not the way that I want to remember him and I thought it might helpful to write about who he was instead of how he died.
Buddy's mother was a yellow lab and no one knew what his father was (he was a stray that had jumped into her yard) but he must have been big and furry because Buddy was far larger and had much more hair than his mother. I have never cared about breed and I think the practice of breeding dogs can be extremely unethical so I did not mind that Buddy was a mutt but I had no idea of what I was getting into by bringing him home. Retrievers are typically very calm and intelligent. Buddy got the intelligence and a touch of the calm disposition but there was a strength of will in him that was not typical for a lab (or anything else, for that matter). He saw himself as an equal (I think) and I came to see him that way too. He only would listen if he thought there was a good reason for him to listen. However, his will was often to do what was right. Whatever his parentage was, it produced a creature (animal or human) like no other that I have had the pleasure of knowing.
Buddy's utter disregard for fear and his abundance of grace were apparent even as an eight week old puppy. I used to have an end table next to the arm of my couch. It was wood and about three feet off the ground. Whenever I would pick his still tiny body up and set him down next to me, he was drawn to that table which was more than three times his height. He wanted to walk on top of it and look down on the world that (to him) seemed to be far below. One afternoon, the doorbell rang unexpectedly and, before I could stop him, he ran across the couch, onto that table, and took a flying leap off the edge. He must have traveled eight feet before he landed in the middle of a stride and continued running as though he had remained on the ground the entire time.
He had a strong drive to protect things and while this trait was sometimes an annoyance, it was one that spoke to his character and gentle heart. At times this was positive. Once, as my father walked him, a man approached and began acting aggressively. Buddy sensed that the man's body language and the tone of his voice were threatening and he put himself between my father and the aggressive man, bared his teeth, and growled in earnest. The sight of an angry 110 pound dog ended the confrontation before it began. On other occasions, his drive to defend was a little more problematic. He did not like acts of aggression regardless of who the one committing them was and that extended to myself, as well. If a large infesting sort of bug made its way into the house, he would run to protect it from me, if he determined that I intended to dispatch it (that often ended in him biting the shoe that I was planning on using). I think that he did not like to see things being hurt and he always seemed ready to act to stop that from happening. There were other incidents too. Some were good, some were silly, and some were problematic but I know that, in his mind, he was only doing what he thought was right. He would bark at people fighting on T.V. (I had to stop watching boxing for that reason). If he thought some of his dog friends were being too rough with another dog (he was very well socialized) he would knock them out of its way. When I used to throw punches as exercise, he would run at me, jump, and firmly but gently grab my arm to stop my "aggressive" behavior.
Buddy was remarkably cleaver. There is one incident that I believe indicates this and it involves a crumb cake. I had been given a paper plate with five or six slices of that cake and I set it on my kitchen counter. Buddy was very tall and, if he reared up onto his hind legs, his head was well over five feet off of the ground. That being the case, he could reach pretty much anything that I carelessly left on the kitchen counter. However, he, somehow, understood that I would notice the sound of the entire plate of cake being thrown to the floor so he devised a plan. He wanted all of the cake but he knew that if I heard him stealing the plate, I would be able to take it away before he could eat it all. His solution was to take one piece at a time and bring it into another room to eat it. I noticed him walking back and forth to the kitchen but he liked to patrol the house so this was not unusual. However, it seemed to happen a little too often in that short period of time. I went to see what he was doing and when I walked into the other room, I saw him finishing the last crumbs of his slice of cake. I went into the kitchen expecting to see the plate on the floor but it was not there. Buddy had quietly taken each individual slice off of the plate and eaten them without alerting me to his plan until it was too late. I couldn't even be mad at him for that. It was a smart move and I respected it.
I could go on telling these little stories all day. The memories are fond and they bring a brief smile to my face but they are bittersweet. As I remember these things I also feel the sting of pain that comes from knowing that he is gone. I am thankful for the time that I had with Buddy and I suspect that I and everyone who knew him will always miss him. I suppose that I should leave off with a Byron quote that seems fitting now:
Near this Spot
are deposited the Remains of one
who possessed Beauty without Vanity,
Strength without Insolence,
Courage without Ferosity,
and all the virtues of Man without his Vices.
This praise, which would be unmeaning Flattery
if inscribed over human Ashes,
is but a just tribute to the Memory of
BOATSWAIN, a DOG,
who was born in Newfoundland May 1803
and died at Newstead Nov. 18th, 1808. (Byron 1-12)
Peace.
The Byron poem is titled "Epitaph to a Dog." It is in the public domain and can be found for free here:
https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/epitaph-dog
All the images in this post are my own.
