i can hear you coughing in the bedroom across the hall. i can hear your nails clicking on the floor, when you totter to the kitchen to get a drink of water. i can still walk across the hall and pet you, if i want. but i can't make you feel better. i can't make you younger. i can't even speak your language, just scratch your tummy and tell you how much i love you.
tomorrow, that will change. we will do for you what we can, and that is to help you stop being sick. mom doesn't like how it feels. i don't like how it feels. but the fact of the matter is that, like it or not, this is what we need to do for you, to respect your life, and to keep it good.
i'm glad i bought you the blue blanket for christmas last year. i'm glad that you used to push my door open and sleep on my laundry, even though it meant i had to fabreeze the whole top layer, or re-wash it altogether. i'm glad you let me take you on walks, and would bark at me when i worked on a project too late. i'm glad that you came to live at our house and be part of our family. i'm glad you didn't like to play fetch, but loved to chase deer. i'm glad that you used to eat rawhide sticks by the dozen, and gave the cat hell. i'm even glad that i caught you in the cat box, sifting out a treat, more than once.
i can't believe you've been part of our life for 15 years, and that tomorrow, you will go away. i hope that you have a good rest. i hope that on the other side, there are lots of deer to chase and no leashes to keep you from running as far and as long as you want. i hope that you see people you know, and that they walk you and love you until we can get there, and all be together, again.
you are the best dogin all the world, hands down. i know that sounds simple. and i know it's stupid to write a whole blog entry on a mutt my little brother found on the side of the road on his way to school, one day. i get that. but still and even so, i wanted to say it, write it, make it real, just the same.
we have loved you the best way we knew how. and you gave us your unfettered affection and constant companionship. thank you for keeping my mother safe at night, for being her friend when i couldn't be with her, for keeping her happy on tough days. thank you for being jealous of her love, to the point that you would move me out of the way to sit next to her on the couch, or bark at her when you thought she'd been on the phone for too long. you could have peed in every shoe i owned and chewed up all my books, and i would still love you, just for that.
there is a reason that dogs are man's best friend. they are utterly devoted, they exist to keep us company and to love us. all they ask in return is that we care for them. caring for you has been a pleasure, and even though you have to go to sleep earlier than any of us would like, i am glad that we don't have to put you through any more discomfort. you are an amazing creation. i thank God that you will always be our little black dog, with the funny smooshed face and floppy ears. and if there is a heaven for people like us, i know that you will be there, grinning from ear to ear, running free, and waiting for us to come and love you some more. so, good night, beauregard, one last time. i love you very much.
mil besos--rmg
1 comment:
Hey Rachel . . .I just ran across your blog in the process of googling for something all together different. I have to say this really hit me . . . and I'm sorry.
On another note . . . I almost embarrassed myself beyond repair the other day. I was sitting in the coffee shop I go to just about every day, and I saw someone come in who I could've sworn was you. Now, mind you, I'm a good many feet away, looking into the outside light, so I really shouldn't be trusting my vision. So . . . I go up to the counter, all set to say something rude to "you," but a little voice tells me to take another look. Good thing. Obviously, it wasn't you. But I think you may have a twin out there somewhere.
Love you,
Susan
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