I’ve heard it said that life is about letting go. It’s once again time to let go, this time to our remaining 2 dogs. Oreo and Dutch died this morning. The vet said it was a good decision to let them go together or else we’d be right back with the other one. They are litter mates, brothers. They were 12 years and 3 months old. They’ve lived with us in every house we’ve lived in since we were married. And a piece of the mourning is the mourning of our life passing by without our friends. While in the grand scheme of things the passing of a pet who has surpassed their life expectency is somewhat minor. There are bigger problems like people without jobs, homes, and families. It’s still a death of a friend.
Oh the stories we have to tell. About the eating of nylons, and scunchi’s. The nylons had to pulled out, the scrunchi’s always seemed to come back up at 3 am. The 8 collars they tore off Alaska and ate, and we never did understand why. The time we came home from waiting tables and sliding into bed after a warm shower was sounding great at 2 am, to find disaster had struck and plants torn apart. The times they ran away, and ended up at the humane society or just reappeared on the front driveway. The couch they tore apart from boredom. Jumping on to the breakfast table when we had a house full of company. The time one of them chewed on my wedding ring. And for all this grief, we were able to laugh at their antics. We put up with all the trouble because it also came with love and hugs, warmth and protection or at least fore warning of approaching family, friends, and foe. They were our friends and companions on the journey.
The dogs were all 7 years old when we had Stephen and they were great with him. He poked, proded and even tried to put his pudgy hands down their throat, and they let him. Stephen tried many times to ride the dogs, and given their size it was like mutton busten. They allowed it. They cleaned up the crumbs, and licked off fingers. The stole more than a few treats. And they loved our boys. Dutch with his diabetes went blind and slowed down but remained ever so gentle. Oreo was content to curl up on the couch or under a table. Alaska was always our fierce protector and Mike was her number one guy. We miss them.
This allows us to have another younger dog that will play more with the boys, and I know it will work out, it always does. Today we’re sad and missing our friends.
