There is only one way for it to end

“There is only one way for a story about a man and a dog to end.”   I will never forget my brother saying these words to me.  It was years ago, just after the book Marley and Me was released. As dog lovers and owners we both know the sad truth of this statement. Inevitably one day we will say goodbye to our best friend. 

A month ago, that inevitable day arrived and I said good bye to my best friend.  There is not a day that passes that I do not cry for my friend. I was so conditioned to sleeping with his snore that I wake in a cold sweat when I do not hear it.  Then I remind myself he is gone and the tears roll down my cheek before I go back to sleep.  I still miss him terribly but slowly the pain eases and I gain perspective of the journey he and I shared.

In so many ways he was my Marley.  As a puppy, we dubbed him “Dutch underfoot”.  He had an uncanny ability to be right underneath mine or Bryan’s feet and we were always tripping over him. He was scared of high pitch noises and hated to be left alone.  My days revolved very much around him.  We rotated between playing, walking, working for two or three hours every day.  My only goal was to make him bearable to live with.   I remember thinking in those early years “He will never be MY dog, but one day I will have a dog that I adore.”   So the first four or five years of his life were spent working and walking and training.  I only hoped that I could tire him out enough that he would be tolerable in the house.  I was determined not to have a monster dog, but I was also resentful that working the monster out of him was such a comprehensive task. 

Playing and working several hours a day was our routine. If I missed a day of working him he would let me know it. I worked him each day so I could stand to be around him and I often thought EVENTUALLY I will have a dog who I enjoy being around.  However, I never believed for a second that Dutch would ever become a dog who I enjoyed. I don’t know when it changed. At some point between him being three and five he changed. Maybe he changed when he lived with my parents when we first moved to Washington.  Maybe I changed. I am not sure but somewhere in between college, marriage, babies and moves he became MY companion.  He was no longer anxious and underfoot, he was just always there and I wanted him to always be there.

His face was the first thing I saw the morning I woke up having contractions with my son.  I looked so forward to him greeting me when I brought home each of the kids.  The walks that were once a necessity were now the highlight of my day.  He, over the years, became an extension of me. I never worried about him off the leash. As long as he could hear me I knew he would come back. I do not know exactly when it happened but without any notice at all he went from being a thorn in my side to being always by my side.

He was my best friend. He was my companion and I take great pride in telling the world he was MY DOG.  He started his life with the adventures of a young couple.  Bryan and I passed him back and forth between apartments depending on whose work schedule left the most time available for him. He has lived in three apartments, four houses, and three different states.  He was witness to the homecoming of three children and has flown on an airplane twice.  In his older years, we adopted a boxer and a kitten for him. We fostered two adult dogs and a litter of puppies.  Towards the end of his life we joked that the only reason he stuck around was just to see what I would bring home for him next. 

Through all the chaos and all the adventures, I made time each day to walk him. As he grew sicker the walks shortened and then he became less responsive to the sound of his leash.  When the time came to let go I held him and thanked for him for being my loyal companion for twelve years.  I am still coming to terms with our bond being severed.  I am coping with the painful truth that there is only one way for a story about a man and a dog to end.  Yet, I would not change one moment with him for the world.  I would take this heartache 100 times over than to think of a life never knowing him.

As I look back over our journey, I am full of gratitude.  I am so grateful for the lessons he taught me about love.  They are lessons some people spend their entire life never fully understanding.  I am not sure these are lessons I would have ever had the patience to learn through another person.  He taught me about love and commitment. I knew when Bryan brought him he was ours and I would help him however I could. Those hours of working him, just out commitment when he was young was why I had so many amazingly loyal years with him.  Those hours were not only why he loved me so much but why I love him so much.  Sometimes the best things come from life’s challenges.

The puppy that was once a thorn in my side spent most of his life loyally by my side. When I think of my Dutch, my first thought is the feeling of loyalty and love we shared. I have to try to remember my frustration with him in his younger years and even when I do it is of little consequence.  It was through that frustration that we bonded.  It was through my unwillingness to give up that I was able to experience the most amazing love. Even if I never love another dog like I loved him, the lessons he taught me about love and determination are ones that I will take throughout my life.