His Dogness

From ROXANNE D.:

Yesterday afternoon I returned to my home after my precious Penny went to sleep for the last time at the vets office. Stumbling around my kitchen, looking for something, anything, to relieve the pain I felt at
that moment, my eyes fell on the picture of Buster on the lower left corner of the Journal. I read the article and sobbed. I was feeling that Spirit (God), plays cruel games. We get the company of our wonderful pets for such a very short time, don’t we?

Our beautiful, mini-dachsund, Penny was 16, like Buster. Unlike you, we only had her company for two short years. See, she was owned, from a pup ,by some folks who gave her to us at 14 years of age. The ad in the Journal had said “Free to a Good Home”. Something possessed us to answer that ad.
Curious as to why someone would give away a dog that they had raised with their children we asked why. She had gotten “too needy” always wanted to be held, etc. She had no hair, tumor growths on her chest (she had breast cancer), and the worst halitosis you ever smelled!
But she was NEEDED, by us. She was needed to help us eat pizza, the finest “jelly babies” from England and snausages in bed at night! She was also needed to keep her furry brothers in line and boy did she! They all knew to behave around Penny! Rest assured, she was the most spoiled, loved dog for the last two years of her life.

Saying good-bye to Penny as she lay in my arms, her big brown eyes looking into my eyes, struggling to breathe was one of the hardest things I have ever done in my 57 years. I sure will miss my “needy” best friend!

From BONNIE D.:

I was so saddened to hear about your loss of Buster. January of last year I put down my beloved 17-year-old retriever mix, Clover, and I still think of her every day.

I was so lucky to have her and it’s obvious you felt the same way about Buster. As Will Rogers once said, “If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.”

From DAVID R.:

We have gone through your experience twice. Once, we adopted an orphan dog named Bud, who was 12 and had been found roaming the streets of Naples. Two and a half years after he found his way into our lives he developed a variety of ailments, not the least of which was a severe case of arthritis, which kept him in pain 24 hours a day. Our vet, a very compassionate lady, told us when the time came for Bud to leave us. We cried all the way into Naples (from our home on Marco Island, 16 miles away) and we cried all the way home.

Three years later, our little dog Bo, at age 17 suffered from a huge malignant tumor in her abdomen. After three weeks of seeing her suffer, and on advice of the same vet, who had cared for Bo since she was 6 months old, we made the difficult decision. We still miss both of them, but we have two more young adult canines who have won our hearts.

From JEANNIE M.:

I saw the story about your sad loss and wanted to say how sorry I am.
My parents gave me a golden retriever, Sugar, when I was five. She lived to be 19. After I left home, she was still “my dog” and slept with me whenever I visited. She always knew me, even after she lost most of her sight. How I loved that dog. I mourned her after her death and have never had another dog. We stick to cats now. They are low maintenance and rarely allow emotional encumbrances.

From BILL & MARCY L.:

It was this time of Holy Week in 2004 that we spent the last days with our beloved pet and reading your piece was a 2-tissue tearjerker for me. You see, we ended up retiring here and I never had so much time with any of our dogs over the past 50 years as I had with Chipper. You have your nice writing for Buster, I wrote this six years ago about Chipper:

FAREWELL CHIPPER

He was a royal guy, sired by Alexander from St. Nick and the dam, Missys Molly Sue. His gate was just like the Shih Tzu’s on the floor of Madison Square Garden, a little faster than we could walk. The ancient ancestral history of cave dwellers was evident when after last year’s stomach surgery; he spent three days under our skirted ottoman. But the other ancient trait, that of a lap sitter for Chinese Emperors was also evident, brought to modern times in laying between my legs on the recliners footrest. Lap sitting was too warm for him; after all, he was a Minnesota dog!

Marcy sat on the stairs in the foyer of the breeder, four brothers all about her. She carefully petted and played with each one. I asked her, “How did you choose this particular one”? She said, “He was the most chipper of the litter”. And so it was on New Years Eve of 1996 that Chipper became a member of our family. The second night I didn’t want to listen to his pitiful barking from the kitchen so I brought his cage next to our bed. The Shih Tzu was quiet all night, kinda like in a cave and next to the Emperor all in one bedroom.

Just like Prince told us one Thanksgiving that it was time, Chipper told us yesterday, Easter Sunday 2004 that it was time. His mandibles were shot; allowing his lower jaw to dislocate. A week ago he quit eating even soft food and drinking from his bowl; probably the activity felt funny or painful. Mom kept him going last week with hourly syringes of water shot onto his tongue and twice a day liquid food administered from her turkey baster. Bravely she injected the I-V liquid under the skin on his back and the lubricating eye drops. She slept on the couch all week, ready to carry him outside during the night whenever needed. Chipper was a great communicator and we waited for him to tell us.

I kept the grass cut short off the patio, the way he liked it. Last night he couldn’t handle the 10’ walk back to the door. This morning he would not even stand or move his tongue when the water syringe was used. He disdained even looking at the squirrels. I wanted to wait until our overnight company arrived, but the panting breath from his dry mouth was more than both of us could bear. With eyes nearly closed and body absent of the trembling in stormy weather like today, we wrapped him in his back-seat beach towel and said our tearful goodbye at Abri Veterinary. Later this week we’ll spread his ashes around the trees where his tormentors live in nests high above what was always his terrain to protect.

P.S. I never had the guts to spread his ashes. They are still here with me in my office; along with our Beaga-Poo (beagle-poodle), Nipper!