I didn't even want him....now I don’t know how life will be
without him. Tomorrow a home veterinary
service will come to our house. The
veterinarian will anesthetize my beloved Chapi and then give him a large enough
dosage of something to stop his heart. I
tell myself I am doing the best for him as I have tried to do for almost 17
years. I tell myself I am not doing this
for my own convenience but because I love him so much that I can let him
go. I sure as hell hope I am right.
Almost 17 years ago, my husband started hinting about
getting a dog. He kept telling me about
these cute puppies that he had seen that day at work and I kept ignoring the
hints. We worked, we traveled, how
could we care for a dog? In a moment of
weakness I asked him if he wanted to “go look at puppies.” I learned that day that you don’t just “go
look at puppies.” You see them and one
of them somehow worms his way into your heart in a way you never thought
possible. On the ride home, you bond and
you never look back. At least that’s the
way it was with our little, white, fluffy and very energetic Chapi.
Now that he is our geriatric Chapi, he doesn’t buzz around
the house anymore running around the dining room table, the kitchen, the living
room and then back around the dining room table. In fact, he can’t even stand up long enough
to do his business. So for the past
several months I’ve been walking him while holding up his back end with various
home-made contraptions and now a store bought harness that isn't nearly as pretty,
but much more effective, than what I had designed.
I thought that he would one day actually talk to me. His fluffy white face and big black eyes were
so expressive. Friends and strangers
often remarked that he looked like he was going to say something. In my dreams, he sometimes talks, but I never
remember what he said. Maybe that is
best.
He walked on his back legs and sort of danced whenever we
came home and sometimes just to show off.
Surely this has nothing to do with the condition of those same legs
today?
Chapi never realized that he was a white dog. So many times I came in the front door to find him greeting me with his big smile....and barbecue sauce, or coffee grinds, or whatever he had gotten into that day all over his white face. You can't hide it, I would tell him, but he never changed.
We were going to be good dog parents and set limits. We set up a box for him to sleep in and put a
ticking clock inside to trick him into thinking he wasn't alone. That lasted less than 30 minutes and then
there he was in the bed with us where he was to stay for the rest of his
nights. I loved when it was time to turn
off the lights because he would literally throw himself—all 15 pounds—onto the
pillow between us. This was HIS place
until just a few years ago when he slowly started moving to the end of the bed,
or to one side of me, but not to the pillow.
I’m not sure why, but that gave me great pain.
He was my alarm clock for most of his life. If he thought I wasn't awake yet, he would
move closer to have a look. Eventually I
could feel his breath on my face as he inched closer and closer to figure out
why I wasn't ready to get up and go for our walk. Sometimes I played tricks on him and would
pretend to sleep until his nose was almost touching mine. When I opened my eyes, or even one eye, he
would attack! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s
go!
My Velcro baby. He
had to be right by my side. He had to
know where I was at all times even in the bathroom. If I closed the door, I knew I would hear his
sniffing under the door. He loved
running for a toy and bringing it back.
He loved sitting at the living room window and keeping watch on the
neighborhood. When we would return home
after his bed time, I’d look up at the window.
Just as he heard the car in the driveway, I’d see his head pop up from
the nice nap he was taking and see him jump off the couch. He would be at the door before we had the key
in the lock.
He was a major flirt who would literally throw himself on
the lap of anyone nearby. If there were
multiple visitors, he would take turns on each lap. It didn’t matter if you were a “dog person”
or not. He was a “people person” and
determined to win you over. You WOULD
make room for him. He never questioned
that.
He loved being in the picture. Or maybe he just wanted to be with us, but if
anyone brought out a camera there he would be.
I’d like to say he loved the clothes I put on him for the holidays, but
at least I don’t think he hated them.
One day he was a beach bum, the next Santa Claus. My favorite was his Harley Davidson denim
vest. He was my model when I made a Christmas
outfit for my Aunt’s shih tzu. It made
me laugh when I said to him, “watch out for the pins,”….the words my mom always
said to us when she was sewing….
His life changed a lot when we brought Indy home. “I’m an only child,” he seemed to say. What is HE doing here? There were words, barked very loudly. There
were looks that seemed to convey that
he would tolerate this guy, but don’t ask me to be his friend. I’m not sure how it is going to play out when
Chapi is gone.
A friend gave me a book recently, Going Home by Jon Katz. It
helped me in so many ways, but most importantly it assured me that our pets
live in the moment and don’t fear death as we do. But they rely on us to make the hard decision
to put them at peace.
Sunday we took Chapi for a “walk” in Old Town, but this time
he was in a borrowed baby buggy.
Just like when he was a fluffy puppy, everyone who passed
made over him. I think he enjoyed the
time in the sun and being made over once again.
As I sit here, I wish again that Chapi could say something
to me. In my dream he is telling me it
is okay and that he loves me for making the decision to let him go.
Grieve not, nor speak of me with tears,
but laugh and talk of me as if I were beside you..
Remember that I did not fear...
It was just leaving you that was so hard to face...
We cannot see Beyond...
But this I know:
I love you so - 'twas heaven here with you!
By "Isla Paschal
Richardson"
