And when I met him, he was a fast dog. Maybe not greyhound fast, but junkyard fast. I remember one time when he got out from Brenna's fenced yard in Janesville, and I took off after him, he took me on a merry chase. He knew how fast I was -- or, more properly, how fast I wasn't -- and I could never get close enough to nab him. He would just keep wandering through yards, sniffing trees, until I would get ever.. so.. close........ and the he would dash off again leaving me grabbing at empty space. Eventually he worked his way over to a very busy Milton Ave and I was very worried he would dart into traffic, but no, he just kept up his tree sniffing until finally I nabbed him. Only to realize I was half a mile from Brenna's with no leash in my hand. And so I threw him over my shoulders in a fireman's carry and walked home, to the amusement of all the Janesvillians driving home from work (and the bewilderment of one confused dog).
When it was time to move Brenna and the girls and the pets to Cleveland, it was Wacko and I driving the moving van, while Brenna and the girls (and our friend Jan) drove in the car. It felt like our domestic little remake of Smokey and the Bandit, with Wacko and I playing the roles of Fred and Snowman. I think of that trip often, of him sitting the cab next to me, looking all around, with that happy dog smile that said "this is gonna be fun!", no matter we were headed.
Upon moving into my house, Wacko had four -- count 'em, four -- cats to cohabitate with. When Wacko first walked through the door, Nelson's eyes fell out of his head and Healy puffed up to about 3 times his normal size (Pearl and Tango, having lived with the dog at Brenna's, were used to the situation, of course....). Nonetheless, they all learned to tolerate each other, for the most part. In all their times together, I only heard Wacko bark at the cats a handful of times, and I am 100% certain the cats deserved it, and more.
What else to say about this dog?
Oh, living in Cleveland Heights -- the world's skunk capital -- he got skunked only once. Once. (On Halloween night, no less....) That's gotta be some kind of special right there.
I think this picture sums up Wacko:
I mean, he's always been there, he's always been a part of our lives together. He's not intrusive, he's not barking, he's not insisting, he's not demanding attention, but he's always in the picture somewhere. He's just been such a huge piece of the crazy puzzle that is our life.
He's always been a chow hound extraordinaire, and an excellent dishwasher. The only time I saw him pass on leftovers was the infamous Krabby Patty incident. In fact, he's still an excellent dishwasher. Tonight, struggling to stand, he still managed to clean all the spaghetti plates. And look up for more when he was done.
Oh, I'm going to miss this dog. But it's his time, and I know we're making the right decision at the right time. But that doesn't make it easier. So here he is tonight, one last picture with the girls:
So tomorrow morning, we're paying the price you pay, as Brenna says, for loving an animal, and doing the last thing you can do for them. We're letting him go.
And I'm gonna miss you, Kerouac. Something fierce.
10 comments:
Damn. Just damn. I like to think of Biltmore as being a forever part of our lives, but he's at least 15, and as the vet says, living on borrowed time. My deep condolences to you, Brenna, the girls, and the cats.
I'm so sorry, so sad for you all. And the sadness is a reverse/reflection of the goodness of you having enjoyed him for so long, and for so deep. He deserves his rest,and you're right, that doesn't make it any easier. Love is always a risk, but you can't live with your heart locked away. You are being merciful and loving and brave, all of you. Ok, maybe not the cats.
Thanks, Harry. Thanks, Pauli.
As many people have told us might happen, the girls seem to be dealing with this much better than their parents are. The resiliency of youth always amazes me.....
I went through that with Luc a little more than six months ago. I'd like to think that we did two things for Luc - once to adopt him (he was considered a difficult placement, having been rejected by two families) and once to let him go. In between, it was all Luc giving to us.
My absolute favorite thing about Luc was that he was more protective of James than anyone. Whenever I yelled at James, he would bark at me to stop. I have a gazillion memories of Luc, but few are as special as how much he cared about us. My favorite picture of both James and Luc is the one where James is passed out on the bed in the den, and both Luc and Ruby are on the bed with him.
So when he let him go, we had him cremated, placed in an urn, and now he sits next to our fireplace. Because in the end, we couldn't quite let go completely.
Yep, I remember meeting Luc. That was one good dog.
I'm sorry for the loss of a big part of your family. It's hard. I know. I had to carry Rebecca to the table and I know she understood what was happening and was graceful in her passing. But this sad moment will pass and you'll be left with good memories, after all, what memories of a loved and loving dog are ever really bad? I think even the cats will agree this time...
Thanks, Bill. I do remember that Rebecca was a real sweetheart of a dog. And yep, we've got a packload of good memories of Wacko to keep us smiling....
We are thinking of all of you. He was such a beautiful
dog, and you will all have good memories to sustain you. Maybe Rebecca and Tony are waiting in the doggie hereafter to play with Wacko. It is amazing
about the girls, I was really worried about them. Love
to all of you.
Oh Chris. This was an incredible tribute to Wacko. Hugs to you, Brenna and the girls today.
Love this post. I would not have been quite as clear-headed had I know what was coming when I took Roscoe to the vet last December 9th. New pups bring new joy. That's the beauty of life, huh? RIP Kerouac. Wacko just does not do your pup justice.
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