The Waiting Room

This could take a while...

Saturday, September 10, 2011

What A Good Boy...A Eulogy

Posted by Seeking Solace |

It has been a week since the Boy went to Rainbow Bridge. Thanks to everyone for their kind words of sympathy. It has taken me a week to find the strength to write the following:

I remember the day Husband and I decided that it was time to bring a new friend home. We had lost our previous dog to liver cancer. "Dog" had been the center of our world. Our hearts were lonely and we longed for the companionship that only a dog can give.

There were several dogs at the rescue event at the local Petco. A crowd of people were admiring some of the more "popular" breeds. Husband and I moved passed the crowd to find one crate in the corner away from the others. There, we found a black and tan dog, barking like crazy. No one was looking at this dog. His barks seemed to say 'Look at me! Look at me! Won't someone pay attention to ME!"

Husband said to me 'How about this one? He seems like a nice pup?" I picked up the paper that was on the crate. "It says that he would be perfect for a single person or a married couple with no children.", I said.

We asked one of the rescue people if we could take him out of the crate and walk him around. They allowed us to walk him around the store. Mainly, they wanted to see if there would be a connection, but mostly because he wouldn't stop barking. As we walked around, he barked and barked. The attendant asked us if we would be interested in adopting him today. Husband looked at me and said "Do you want to think about it? He's a nice dog and all, but come on...he's nuts."

Without pausing, I said "We will take him"

The dog came home with us that day. And the first thing he did when we brought him into the house, he peed on the stereo speaker. We laughed hysterically.

That was the beginning of our life with the Boy.


Last Saturday, the Boy was lying down on the floor next to me as I sat in living room. The Boy's health was going downhill quickly.He could barely walk or stand. The tumor was causing him to pace around the house, just as it did when he first became ill. We had discussed earlier in the day that his time was getting close. As I typed on my laptop, the Boy, struggling to sit up, rested his head on my knee as he had done a billion times. This time, his big brown eyes met mine. His eyes said what he could not.

"OK, sweetheart", I said "When Daddy gets back from the store, we will go."

"Go" meant Rainbow Bridge.

We went to the University Vet Hospital who were treating him for the brain tumor. The vet on call was very kind. We were there with him when he passed away. The last thing he saw was his mom and dad. He passed away resting his head against his paw, just as he always did when he slept.

And, that was the end.


As I look back at the last 10 years with the Boy. I think about what he brought to our lives. He came to us at a time when we needed someone to help us heal. Whatever pain or sadness we felt, the Boy was there to comfort us, to give us knowing look that no matter what, everything would be OK. If the RA flared up, he would rest his head on my knee. When I lost my job, he would let me cry in his fur and snuggle closely.

He made us laugh with his antics, especially when we needed to laugh. He made sure that we exercised by always be willing to go for a W-A-L-K. We did not need an alarm clock because the Boy would wake us up, although I often wondered if it was more about us getting his banana.

He was a kind soul that looked out for the weaker being. He was small for his breeds; we were told that he was the runt of the litter. So, he looked out for the smaller, weaker pups, making sure that the bigger or more aggressive dogs would not hurt them. When we would go to the nursing homes for therapeutic visits, he was quite good a making those who felt alone feel special. Every person or being that he encountered was his best freind. He did not hate anyone. He was a gentile soul.

When I think about the last two years, I am amazed at how dramatically my life has changed. For the first time since I can remember, I feel like everything is right where it should be. Those of you who have followed this blog from the beginning know of my many ups and downs. Right now, my life is on and up swing that seems to go on forever. I think that the Boy felt that his job was to take care of Husband and I. I think he believed that no matter what life would throw, I would be OK, even if it was without him. I was no longer the weak one that needed his protection or comfort. I was strong and able to conquer all that life had in store. 

It was his time to go. His work was done.

Good Boy.


Brigindo said...

Beautiful eulogy but I feel so very sad. I hope I can muster half your bravery when it's Pupzilla's time to go to Rainbow Bridge.

rented life said...

Miss you Boy. You were always all over Husband when we visited and you didn't seem to mind that I am a cat person, you were always friendly and kind. I'll remember that you liked bananas and barking at people outside--especially delivery people. And how much your parents love you. And how you'd nearly tackle us walking in the door.

SS, I don't think I read the whole thing because I started to cry. Beautifully written. Love to you and hubby.

TiredProf said...

Beautiful tribute (am crying as I type this)! Have been there 4 times and know the pain. Thinking of you folks and sending good thoughts.

deb aka murphthesurf said...

He indeed picked you on that special adoption day and stood thru for you both. He will be watching over you from above with angel wings.

phd me said...

I'm so sorry for your sadness and loss. You've written beautifully about a very loving, supportive relationship. I think Boy would be happy to know he made such a difference in your lives.

JaneB said...

Awww, what a wonderful friend he was. Much sympathy, and I'm glad you were able to be with him at the last

Rev Dr Mom said...

What a lovely tribute to a wonderful dog companion. I hope your memories are a comfort as you mourn his passing.

Arbitrista said...

He sounds like a lovely companion. I know you'll miss him. I sometimes feel guilty about how strongly I feel about my pets, but then I remember that they're family. Short, furry family.