The Subject Today is Love

The Saturday before Christmas, my partner and our friend Gudrun and I had a great day. We ran errands, ate lunch out, and came home to bake Christmas cookies and listen to silly Christmas music. It was a warm day, so we had the backdoor open with the screen door shut and we could see the dogs looking at us every now and then as they heard us or smelled our baking. As daylight turned to dusk, I went into the backyard to give the dogs their dinners and Scooter, the older dog, was lying completely still.

To be honest, I knew immediately that he was gone. But I went over and stooped to pet him, to make sure he wasn’t just asleep. But he was dead. When I petted him, it was obvious that he had just died. He lay there as if he had gone to sleep. 

He wasn’t terribly old, but he was a huge dog and he had had fairly major medical problems his entire life. Lately he had really slowed down and, even though he still ate his dinner and welcomed attention, it was obvious that his medicine for joint problems wasn’t strong enough anymore. We had decided that after Christmas we were going to take him to the vet, and I think we both were steeling ourselves to be told that it was time to let him go.

I went and got my partner to let her know.  The little dog followed me, confused and starting to be upset at this change in the routine. I won’t go into the whole story, but it took a while for us to figure out what to do. Gudrun was the one who called the vet’s emergency number and found a 24 hour vet clinic that could take his body for cremation.

It took all three of us to carry him to the car. Gudrun volunteered her car because it was the largest and drove us there. She hugged me when I started to cry (several times). She was the support we both needed at that time, when we were so upset and not able to think clearly. I’ve always known she was a good friend and, once again, she proved it that night. 

Foe several days the little dog looked for Scooter all the time. He cried. He didn’t eat. He clung to me. But gradually, with lots of attention and encouragement, he has started to get used to this new world. 

Scooter knew how to shake hands. He had beautiful white teeth. He loved to have his belly rubbed. He howled whenever there were sirens nearby. He was gentle and sweet but very imposing-looking. His paws were bigger than the palms of my hands. When he was younger I took him to the vet every Saturday for treatment for mange.  He was a tiny puppy when we got him and I could carry him around, and then he got so big that his head was as big as his whole body used to be. When he was crated, he barked the house down. He loved water and loved getting in his water trough and having water poured over him. We called him Fly Boy because he attracted flies and was always having to wear anti-fly medicine. He was a beautiful, beautiful dog. 

Ever since he died, we find ourselves telling Scooter stories. We tell stories the same way we tell stories about human family members who have died. 

To me, love is not an abstract thing. It's something you do. It's service to those you love and who love you.