I usually like to write uplifting words here… sometimes I vent on assorted topics that most people can relate to, and I try to add a dose of humor to even things out. I’ll toss in a recipe or a craft- so you’ll have something to take away, as well. But, today I am at a loss.
On Sunday, my beloved Boston Terrier died in my arms in the front yard. As peaceful as that may sound it was sheer torture. His last breaths were not peaceful, it was as if he was fighting with all his might to live, but he just didn’t have the physical strength. Moments that haunt my heart and mind…
I got him from the pound eleven years ago- I was looking at the dogs that were found & surrendered at the local shelter via the internet and there he was. I went there everyday after work to see if he had been claimed yet, and if he were up for adoption. Each day, I was told to wait, and check back. A worker there finally told me one afternoon, “He’ll be up for adoption at eleven tomorrow morning, but it’s first-come-first serve. You have to get a number as soon as the doors open”. “The doors? Plural?” I asked. She said, “Yes, we open both sets of doors”
So, I devised a plan: I was going to get there at 7am, and stand at a door and my best friend was going to stand at the other door. I made sandwiches, brought mosquito spray and some magazines. The employee saw me there when she came to work and said, “I’ll do my best to get this door open first”
She got some homemade cookies from me for that. 😉
Needless to say, I got my dog that day. I had only seen a picture, never met him in person… but I never thought twice about it. When we first met, he ran up to me and gave me a million doggy kisses and rolled on his back. Somehow, we knew we belonged together. Not to say that I didn’t belong with any of my other dogs… Spike was just the first one I didn’t “meet” before I got him.
That was eleven, maybe twelve years ago… I’m not in the mindset to do the math. My vet estimated him around five or six when I got him, but it’s possible he was older. Even when he was 16- he never acted or looked it. His teeth were always pearly white and his breath as fresh as a puppy’s. He was timeless.
He went through a lot with me, and he took to an “instant family” with great ease.. all in all he was just an awesome dog.
I’m so glad I got to share a part of my life with him. I’m so glad he went on vacation with us a few weeks ago & got to swim and play. I’m so glad he ate some turkey from my hand a few hours before he passed… I’m glad I let my daughter give him all the biscuits he wanted last week…I’m glad I never kicked him off the couch. I’m glad he rode with me to take my daughter to preschool. I’m glad I bought all those toys that he would destroy in five minutes. I’m glad our walks took an hour because he liked to pee on everything.
It’s in those little things that I know he had a good life.
It’s in those little things that I also find comfort.
A lot of people swear off any more animals after feeling the pain of losing one. It’s natural, you want to self-protect and never allow that hurt in your life. But, in my opinion swearing off animals is robbing yourself of years of joy and also robbing an animal of a good life. There are so many animals out there in need of a loving home, one of my local shelters even offers free vaccines & food for the life of the animal… all you have to do is offer a loving home.
So, as much as my heart and my husband’s heart is breaking for our departed dog, we both agree that we want another at the right time…. I’m not sure quite when that will be. But, I’m sure God does. 🙂
RIP Spike… I will see you again one day.