The Noble Bassador HOL 115

Tonight I go to bed for the first time in 17 years without a pet. Now, I don’t intend for this to be grief porn...something written to remind you of every sad thing in your life and have you boo hooing by the last paragraph. (Note-you probably will, but was not my intention) There is enough grief in this world without my adding to the sum total.

    Nor do I intend to paint myself as some endlessly patient saint who had an unblemished perfect friendship with my dog. Anyone who has known me for more than 5 minutes would see through that by the end of the first sentence.

    Nope, this is just a way for me to clear my head, say my peace, and try to put a cap on a long couple of weeks.  

    Not long after I moved to Greensboro, before Nancy had even moved up here, we adopted  a cat named Angelo.  He had a black spot on his back, which were told was called the “Hand of Allah”.  Angelo would fetch, walk out on your outstretched arm, and hated Nancy when she first moved in.  

  We collected black and white cats every few years, some we liked more than others.  They were “starter children” for our life together.  

    We decided to get a dog and made several trips to Greensboro’s animal shelter.  We saw a dog that looked like a full size lab, but when he stood up, it looked like he had been cut off at the knees. He was part Labrador, part Basset Hound…..a “Bassador”.   He also had black spots on his tongue.  Every time we looked at him, we laughed, and so we brought him home.  We named him Max, partly after the character in gladiator “Maximus Decimus Meridius”, partly after the Grinch’s dog, and partly after my childhood friend Don’s dog.

   He generally was a gentle, good natured, dog, but he would occasionally challenge you with a low growl  if he was not in the mood to go out.  My parents had a Basset named Buddy and the two of them would wrestle and play until they both collapsed in a heap like some sort of hilarious bizarre Godzilla knock off movie.

    Max travelled with us, camped with us, was one of the first few dogs at the “Bark Park” at Lawndale Park.  I remember one car ride, we were about a mile from home and he barfed about  about  a gallon of kibble all over the front seat, Nancy, and myself.   He had a sheepish look on his face, Nancy had her butt elevated off the seat to avoid sitting in it and I was nauseous from the sight but we couldn’t stop laughing at how we looked.

    Our friend John Taylor called Max “Cybill” for his split personality.  When John was selling our house and would come in we weren’t home, he dared not go up stairs for the vicious growling emanating from the top of the landing.  Whenever we were home though, Max was John’s best friend in the world.

    Max had a tendency to wander.  It got him (and us) in plenty of trouble.  One night Max and I went to my friend Daniel’s house to play with their dog Annie while Daniel and I drank beers and played X-box.  Both of our wives were out of town, so it was a late night.  When I went to get Max to go home, we found that the gate had been pushed open and the dogs were missing.  

    Daniel and I walked the neighborhood, with a decent buzz, yelling the dog’s names late in to the night.  Hours later, we got a call from an emergency vet.  A concerned driver saw two dogs wandering together down Brian Boulevard (a major four lane highway ) and sensed that they were a) lost and b) together and drove them to the late night vet.

    Like so many pets, the cats and Max were all demoted once Isaac arrived on the scene.  While the cats made their displeasure known by pissing on pretty much everything, Max took this new “pet” with supreme patience.

    Time takes it’s toll and Max eventually couldn’t manage the stairs on his own, but still insisted that I help him up so he could sleep by our door every night.  

    I wish I could say that I was always patient.  Most people enjoy the company of animals in a controlled setting.  There are others who have a wild, seemingly limitless love and passion for animals, like my friends Jessi, Karlan, and Alison.    I wish I had that. I don’t.  

    Mosquitos, rain, and snow always seemed to be their worst when Max was thinking the hardest about where to go.  Max would whine insistently to go out at inopportune times, the most frustrating was when I had several other things to do and had just brought him back inside from a walk.  I gave up on trying to walk him for exercise because it is hard to get your heart rate up when you stop every ten feet to sniff or pee.  If I was the person that he acted like I was, none of these things would have bothered me at the time, or hang like ornaments on my little grief tree tonight.  

    When I read about people who have perfect relationships with dogs, I can’t help but feel both skeptical and wildly deficient at the same time.  When reading about dog hospice care, one expert wrote that she will always sleep on the floor next to the dog in a sleeping bag during those last few hours.  I thought, I would have been on the damn floor for about 2 weeks the way this has gone.  

    In the last few months, Max was blind, deaf, and senile.  He slept most of the time.  On more than one occasion, I would get up in the morning, or come home from work and looking at him motionless develop a real sense of panic that he had died, only to see him move or breath a few seconds later.  

    Nancy, Isaac, our dear friend Michael and I were there tonight when Max died.   Michael helped me carry his body out to the vet’s truck...a Holy moment.   I know I don’t grieve alone.  I am thankful for the kindness shown to my family.  I don’t want to add to other’s people’s griefs, but am grateful for the hands that have been offered to carry ours.  

  I remembered today another kindness…..years and years ago.  When my childhood dog died, my friend Don….maybe two or three years out of high school sent my family flowers and a card that said “All Dogs go To Heaven”.   I don’t know if he knows how much that meant to me then and now.  

    I also want to take a moment to thank Nancy who rose to the occasion cleaning up all manner of dog fluids when my gag reflex had taken me out of the game.  She is also the one who made the hard decision, that it was time to end Max’s life….something I could not do.

   Finally I want to mention Isaac’s bravery for being there while the Vet did her work.  He was scared but very brave and made Nancy and I stronger and very proud.  

Strength and Honor

Big Matt

Shadows are fallin' and I'm runnin' out of breath

Keep me in your heart for a while

If I leave you it doesn't mean I love you any less

Keep me in your heart for a while

When you get up in the mornin' and you see that crazy sun

Keep me in your heart for a while

There's a train leavin' nightly called "When All is Said and Done"

Keep me in your heart for a while

Warren Zevon