There are events in my life that require putting a pen to paper in order to heal. This is one of those events and the paper is covered with tears.
It has been a week and a day since I helped Bruty to leave us. I continue to hear his nails on the hardwood floors and I think that I see him curled up in a chair. I look for him when I leave the house and then again when I get home.
His dinner times and walk times come and go, almost unnoticed. I don’t know what to do with his collar.
I look through old photos of him with my Kids and Grandkids and I witness them growing up as he is growing old.
There was not a baby or small child that he didn’t want to kiss. He loved other dogs and if they could accept his enthusiasm, made friends quickly. He liked to play rough.
When his dog friends came to visit, he would share his favorite toys. Kitties liked him too.
Bruty was a swimmer and would put his head completely under water to retrieve something. He didn’t understand the concept of “drop it” when playing and preferred the struggle of not letting go. When he was younger, he could jump high and was often referred to as “a ball of muscle”. He was a dream runner. He never learned his lesson about messing with skunks.
Brutus was a protector of children and nothing made him happier than to snuggle with them. He would stress out, over salivate and cry when we pushed the Grandkids high in a swing. He would politely, with a soft mouth, on an arm, ask us to stop, when wrestling with the Grandkids. He would wag for strollers.
Bruty respected the no face licking rule, once you let him know that you weren’t into that kind of stuff. Although, he could sneak a fast lick in when the opportunity presented itself. When Stella, our cat, would hiss at one of the Grandkids, Bruty would put himself between them and nudge the cat to tell her to move along.
Brutus was handsome to the end. We took many of our walks through Uptown Westerville and he knew the places to stop and visit a friend or get a treat. He could clear a room. He was a brave strong sissy. He would howl with delight when I came home.
He was not a beggar but demanded a treat after going out and was accused regularly of faking the need to go out, just for a treat. His nose never stopped working. His guard dog abilities were questionable.
Brutus kept the kitchen floor free of food debris. He was fast and resisted his advanced age, failing, abilities. Saying “he was a good boy” is a gross understatement.
Bruty is the pet that I have loved and loss that I really hope to see again. To comfort me, a friend said to me, “God does not destroy what he has created.” I really hope this is true.
I often wonder why God would give us the unfaltering, loyal friendship of a dog, yet make their lives so much shorter than our own. I believe there are lessons there, life lessons about loyalty, love and loss.
My Vet said that 50% of pet owners choose not to be with their pet at the time of euthanasia. I now know that I should have considered myself, to be, one of those pet owners.
I have been waiting for the call about picking up Brutys ashes. The Veterinarians office called yesterday and said “we have Brutus hear” and I thought…….no, you don’t.
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