Two other events once promised October to be a wonderful month, yet now make it one of the hardest to get through… my wedding to Jake, and his birthday four days later. Although each year they become easier to deal with, in some respects I anticipated this year to be difficult in a different way. Imagine going to your husband’s grave on your anniversary to mourn him, yet you are so happy with someone new in your life. A clash of emotions would be an understatement for how I felt.
I had hoped getting through that week would shine a light. Unfortunately, I then had to say goodbye to a dear friend.
Arlo was Jake’s dog that he got from the Humane Society. His L-shaped tail bared witness to a life of abuse before being rescued. He was in some lights Jake’s best buddy, often being Jake’s outlet when he “talked” for the dog.
As Arlo got up in years, Jake and I had discussed how hard it would be to let him go when it was his time to leave this earth. This week, that task rested on me. It’s not like I never saw this day coming – the dog was 15 years old. But that didn’t make it any easier.
Up until a few months ago, he still was pretty vibrant and liked to chase. I would tease him, as his daddy did before me, in a fake fight stance with my fists in the air. I would do a slight stutter jump, and when I would land, the game was on. He would drop onto his front paws, give a bark and start running around the house like a lunatic running circles around me. To keep him going, all I would have to do would hit the fight stance again.
The chase ended with his eye problems this past winter. Yet he was still alert and as loving as ever. I knew I wouldn’t have him forever, but I still psyched myself out of thoughts of the end even as his conditioned worsened over the past few months. I convinced myself that his constant “accidents” in the house were him being a jerk and not the signs of senility or something worse. However, I had to face the reality of it all when I watched him take five minutes to think about laying down because it hurt him so much, get up every 10 minutes to take him outside, really took a good look at his weight loss, and finally to find him laying in his own feces several days in a row.
So, as he lay down on the comforter in the vet’s office, I held his paw and thought about what this loving creature had meant to me. I remembered the horrible night the police showed up to tell me Jake had died. Although Arlo had always been extremely territorial, he ignored the police. As I cried, he laid at my feet, for the first time ever.
I thought about all the nights that he laid on Jake’s side of the bed, and I would hold on to him for dear life, sobbing uncontrollably. I would ask, “Give me kissy”. And he would oblige with a smile on his face. Yes, I let the dog kiss me. Get over it.
He took all my pain, and all he asked for in return was love.
I could not let this wonderful friend suffer anymore, especially after the vet told me what was happening to him. I just hoped his daddy and he appreciate what act of love it was to let him go, that I tried to take care of him as best I could.
Some might say, “Ah, he was only a dog. Why get so worked up?” He was a friend, companion, support in my darkest hours… he was family.
So as his life slipped away, I told him he was a good boy. I thanked him. I promised him that his daddy would be there when he opened his eyes. I told him I loved him.
8/1/94 - 10/17/09
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