Saying Goodbye

Last week, dear reader, we said goodbye to our most loyal family member, Chubby. Chubby was our senior pit bull terrier. Our boy had been with us for fifteen and a half years. For a dog his size, that is an extraordinarily long life. Chubba-do was the equivalent of 120 in human years. For being that old, he got along better than most. His hearing had gone, or I joke that it had become even more selective with age. His sad little brown eyes were cataract-ridden. He leaked gas like an environmental disaster, and his breath smelled like death on a good day, but he loved us in his own weird, cat-like Chubby way. 

We brought Chubs into our family when The Bean was two years old. They grew up together, and if I am being transparent, The Bean is the only person we are confident Chubby loved. To say he loved her is an understatement. Wherever our girl was, Chubby could be found not far away. If she were rollerblading on the driveway, he would be resting under the arborvitae, making sure she was safe. If she went on a Ranger ride, he was sitting beside her. If she was watching television or in her room, he was snuggled at her feet. We used to joke that Chubs was like Roz on Monsters Inc., always watching. In the rare event our girl was gone for more than a day, Chubby would sit with his nose buried in her shoe or her dirty sock. Now, that, dear reader, is devotion.  

Our boy was a one-dog killing machine. Every night, he ran the perimeters of the farm, protecting our land from interlopers. There was no groundhog, opossum, or raccoon in a five-mile radius. Every spring, when the critters became active, our front yard looked like a bone yard. Chubby also enjoyed a good treasure hunt. The more decayed, smelly, and disgusting the dead animal, the better for our Chubby dog. Chubby was on an expensive and regular deworming schedule because of his affinity for dead things and killing. 

In the fifteen and a half years of his life, Chubby only got sick once with a tick-related disease. That was a scary time, but he recovered and never had another flare. Our boy always made us feel safe and protected. He would guard the house, the farm, and us with a stern and loyal perseverance not seen in many dogs. He was never aggressive, but he would stand between strangers and us, positioning his body in case his protective services were needed. Many a well-tender and delivery person refused to get out of their vehicle if Chubs was outside unattended. I can't say I blame them. If strangers asked whether he bites, we always said he hasn't yet, but I wouldn't tempt fate. We were only half joking.

Although Chubby grew up with my West Highland Terrier, Walter, he did not like other dogs at all. After Walter passed away, we adopted Buster. It took Chubby almost a year to accept Bus into the pack. They were never friendly, and we didn't trust them outside together. We couldn't have toys or special treats in their vicinity, because Chubby couldn't accept that Bus outweighed him by fifty pounds and had the strength of a dog half his age. If a fight broke out, Chubby got his a$$ handed to him and wouldn't back down. Chubby should have been an only child. We have neighborhood dogs that enjoy a trip off the farm once in a while. Although a fight never ensued, the neighbor's dogs rarely came onto our property. It was like Chubby had given a stern and threatening warning of what would happen if they dared cross his boundaries. 

In the last two years, it was as if the wildlife understood that the old man had retired from his protective duties. This past fall, an opossum was bold enough to come onto the porch and steal dog food. Just a year ago, this would have never happened. The wildlife have slowly begun making their presence known. Buster is a lover, not a fighter, when it comes to wild creatures. He will cower from a baby opossum if he encounters one on his nightly bathroom break. However, human beings are not safe from Bus. If unattended outside, a stranger will not make it onto the porch. I would hate to see what would happen if someone tried to come into the house uninvited. He does not like teenage boys or men, end of story. When we make our daily trek around the farm, if we encounter a stranger, which is rare, I have to hold him back until the person goes away. There is no doubt in my mind that Buster would hurt a person before another animal. Despite their differences, the dogs came to a contentious existence, even playing together once in a great while. 

The end came fast and suddenly. Chubby went to bed on Thursday night, and he was fine. We gave him his anti-inflammatory and put him to bed on his heated cushion. At four in the morning, Chubs awakened me with a cry different from his usual cries. I went downstairs, and he was trying without success to stand. He looked frightened and bewildered. I ran upstairs and woke up Eric. We cradled him until he settled down, then Eric carried him outside in case he had to relieve himself. He stumbled about, relieved himself on the sidewalk, and Eric brought him back inside. I gave him a treat, and he could not get his head under control to take the treat from my hand. We put a soft blanket on the couch, surrounded him with pillows, and I stayed by his side until everyone else was up and around. We knew what we had to do. Our boy was telling us it was time to say goodbye. 

Eric called our vet around seven in the morning, and Israel arrived around noon. I had prepared The Bean as soon as she awoke. She spent the morning by his side doing her school work with his head lying lovingly on her lap. At noon, Israel arrived and, peacefully, surrounded by everyone who loved him, our boy slipped over the rainbow bridge. No one spoke. We just gave him one last loving caress and said our goodbyes. 

Is it painful? Of course. He is family. However, I take comfort in the fact that out of the equivalent of 120 years, he had a few bad hours. He said goodbye at home, with everyone who loved him by his side, and went peacefully without suffering. We could not ask for more for anyone we love. In my opinion, humans should have this choice as well.  

As with any loss of a family member, the silence is the loudest. There is no sound of gentle snoring while we watch television together or read. Nobody is begging for a bite of our dinner and whining incessantly until they get one. There are no familiar click-clacks on the hardwood floors as he pads after us from room to room. Nobody races us up the driveway when we return from an outing. In the last few years, we drove ridiculously slowly so he could feel he was still victorious. There is no familiar bark at the door throughout the day, and no distracting, obnoxious licking sound while we try to concentrate. I will never again yell, "Chubby, knock it off! That's gross!" 

We all feel the loss, and we aren't quite ready to talk about it yet, but it's there. Even Buster, whom I did not think was Chubby's greatest fan, was distraught on Friday while it was happening, and even more so when it was over. He continues to spend more time alone than usual, and I often catch him looking forlornly where Chubby used to sleep in the afternoon sunshine. We have tried to cheer up Buster by giving him stuffed toys, which he never got to enjoy while Chubby was here. Eric and Jordan play with him throughout the day. Once the playtime is over, he goes back to being just a bit off. I think that saddens me more than anything. 

So, we are now dealing with the loss of a loved one that is just as real and painful as any human family member. Some might say he was just a dog, but he was the bestest boy a little girl has ever had the gift of knowing and the privilege of growing up alongside. Everyone who met him loved Chubby. From Cindy, the mail lady who gave him multiple treats every day, to GramBarb, who isn't renowned for being an animal lover. Chubby had an endearing quality that made everyone say, "What a good boy." 

Rest in peace, dear boy, until we meet again. I hope you are tussling with Walter, chasing down interlopers, and gnawing on whatever gross thing makes you the happiest. He's keeping the perimeters of heaven safe now. With Chubs on the prowl, heaven is in the best hands...or paws. 

On this cold winter's day, stay safe, be smart, cuddle your furry friends just a little tighter, we aren't gifted with nearly enough time with them, and keep washing your hands.