A moment of my non-tech life

Romeo never liked being picked up. Even when we saw him in the mall pet store, he squirmed to break free and dance on the floor. He was this tiny little fluffy snowball with a little black nose. You could hardly see his tiny eyes.

 It was a trait uncommon to Lhasa Apsos, they all had big eyes and puppy-like faces. But the pure white puppy with the jet black nose was more like a stuffed animal on a teens bed than a real life dog. It was Christmas 1994 and we were shopping for gifts. As we passed the pet store my wife and I saw many puppies that people were playing with inside. Even though we already owned a darling little female Lhasa Apso puppy, we still were drawn to the happy, wiggly little fur-balls.

 When my wife held the little white Lhasa her face melted into a loving smile. Hundreds of doggie kisses were planted on her face by this squirming pile of happiness. Without thinking I asked, “Do you want him for Christmas?”. Instantaneously  she said “yes” but then followed with ”isn’t he too expensive?”. He was $600, and 17 years ago that was a lot for a pet store dog. I knew I should not perpetuate the terrible puppy mill problem by buying from a pet store, but this little guy was there and it was inevitable that somebody would buy him, puppy mill or not. I knew he was destined to be happy with us as a companion to Peaches our other Lhasa.

 My wife was in her late 30’s at that time and the empty nest was about to happen. Our daughter would be out on her own soon and it could be a chance for another child. I never wore the hat of “dad” very well. It was a very hard job and not something that came naturally to me. The whole baby thing scared me to death. I knew I would have to do 50% of the work and I was just not going to sign up for that willingly.

So, the new puppy could bring some babies into our life. Doggie babies. To me that meant I was off the hook. No lifetime commitment to another child. Dogs live 7-9 years and then they die. It was common knowledge.

Since he would be “Peaches” lover and companion, we named the new puppy “Romeo”. The next day we took him home. 

At first the stress on Peaches was too much. She was two years old and used to ruling the house. She was in charge of barking at the door to ward off strangers (she had a great record - everyone she barked at would eventually go away). Peaches was also my other “wife” and companion. She would insist on sitting at my right thigh on any chairs, at my feet in bed or on top of my chest when I would lay on the floor to watch TV. She was tiny with huge brown eyes and golden hair. Peaches was whip smart and agile enough to be called “circus dog” as she jumped from the backs of couches to the window seat.

 Peaches was frazzled for the first month. She hated the new puppy that always wanted to play. Very possessive, she growled as Romeo came near me. I was her territory and she was going to defend her ground. We kept them apart for the first few months and gradually Peaches came to accept the hundreds of doggie kisses bestowed upon her by Romeo.

Romeo was so different from Peaches in may ways. It was almost as if he was a different breed. When we first got him we put him in the soft green grass under the big shade trees of our front yard. There he was a ball of white fluff almost dancing in celebrating his freedom in the wide open spaces of our single family home yard. Dogs can’t smile, but if he could, he seemed to be grinning from ear to ear as he rolled in the grass. He yearned to be a free dog. He was nobody’s lapdog. He wanted to be on the ground and would fight to be there. He was willful and disobedient. A real handful. He immediately bonded with Lora and took dislike to my directions. We had a fenced yard and a doggie door, so Romeo would love to go outside.  As a puppy he took great pleasure in finding things to play with. Although we had many “approved toys” for Romeo and Peaches, Romeo wuld choose his own playthings. Sometimes it was a stick or a bit of wood, other times something less desireable, apiece of dried dog poo or a small dead lizard. He would bring them into the house and throw them into the air with great enthusiasm. Sometimes he seemed to throw them on me or Lora. He always seemed to want to be “his own dog” in those years.

Then one day Peaches came into heat and Romeo and her were bonded. Where Peaches was, Romeo had to be. They were inseparable. Peaches still liked to sit near me. Romeo would sit on the floor and Peaches would growl softly if he stood too close. Peaches stopped barking at the door. It was now Romeos Job. The order of our home “pack” had changed and Peaches accepted her new role with the calmness and satisfaction of a mother to be.

There would be 13 puppies born over four or five litters. A couple of weak small pups would not make it through the first few days. Our house would go crazy accommodating the babies, but it was fun to have the scampering, wrestling, jumping bunch of pups to roll on the floor with. Romeo would not play with the pups, but they would play with him. He would move away and hide in another room.

Then one day when Peaches was 11 the vet suggested it was enough. He said that Peaches should be fixed because she was too old to have any more babies. We agreed. The operation was quick and successful. But Peaches changed toward Romeo. They would not be the same inseparable couple. Romeo would want to be with Peaches, but Peaches wanted her own “space”. Romeo never understood and was unfaltering in his guardianship of his mate. But the operation changed peaches more than we knew. Although she was healthy she changed dramatically in personality. She would sleep and stay without moving for hours at end. Before the operation Peaches and Romeo would make daily trips outside through the Doggie Door to patrol the backyard. They would walk the same route every day, along the fence and in all the corners. Checking for intruders or new dogs in the next door neighbors yards. They enjoyed the sun and the seasons together, lifting their noses into the air to catch the spring breeze. They smelled many smells and chewed the grass as dogs sometimes do. Often they would catch many small plants into their hair and require a good brushing, but they enjoyed it so much that we put up with the inconvenience.

So now Romeo patrolled the grounds on his own. Making shorter rounds to get back to his lifelong companion.

But Peaches spent less and less time walking.  She had contracted arthritis. In just a few short weeks she went from walking painfully to being totally rigid in her joints. We had tried herbal remedies and prescriptions, but nothing helped.

We loved her so. We did not want to let her go. So we dutifully carried her out to the soft green grass to allow her to relieve herself. She would give appreciative doggie kisses to us, on our hands or arms. Where ever she could reach us, she would give the most soft and delicate kisses. We fed her in her bed. Diapered her when we had to go out for more than  an hour. Romeo would stay nearby. He watched and understood that she was in pain.

We however had lost sight of our duty. We were selfish and wanted to keep this dear little dog that had brought so many beautiful puppies into the world. It was Romeo that made me understand. As I sat on the couch with Peaches paralyzed by arthritis in her bed at my side, Romeo sat before me and looked at the both of us. Much like the RCA Victor dog from the phonograph records, he sat unblinkingly before me. He looked at Peaches and then at me. Then he let out a low growl almost like the sound of a hungry stomach and turned and walked away. I never told Lora, but I knew why he was upset. I was holding Peaches because I was selfish. I was keeping her for my own personal needs and without regard for her happiness.

That day I began to dig the hole in the front yard in the soft grass just beyond the porch swing. The same swing I had sat on with Peaches hundreds of times. Romeo wandered around as I dug a deep hole. He enjoyed the yard but never strayed. I was about five feet into the ground when I realized that it was far beyond the depth needed. My hands had blistered but I was pleased that I had given myself pain. I felt the need to be punished for doing such a dastardly thing. To dig a hole to bury our dear friend while she sat just a few feet inside the house. Romeo came to me as I climbed out of the hole. He was  playful and happy, unaware of my plans. I snatched him away from the edge of the hole, fearful that he would fall inside. He growled with displeasure, not happy to be picked up.

 That day I bought a decorated wooden box from a home accessory store and we lined it with a soft blanket. The box was yellow with hand painted pictures of fruit. They were peaches on a branch with leaves and flowers. It seemed to have been made especially for our dear friend. The next day the vet gave us a pill to make Peaches sleep and when she was soundly adrift the doctor came to our home and injected her with the painless poison. Even though she was asleep,  the instant the needle went into Peaches little leg she must have felt a sting. She tried to bite at the area of the injection and I put my hand in front of the vet’s needle to fend her off. Her mouth found my hand and she briefly bit down, but not enough to puncture the skin. It was the only time Peaches had ever bitten me. In some odd way I felt I deserved it and I apologized to her for the moment of pain.

Lora and I placed Peaches lifeless body into the the burial box. In the lid we wrote a note about Peaches, her life and offspring. I know the box will rot in the moist soil long before anyone ever could unearth it, but it just seemed right to eulogize her in that way. Lots of tears flowed that day.

Romeo continued to look for his mate for about a year after she was gone. He would sniff the areas she had sat and walk from spot to spot glancing around corners as if he could catch her hiding.

About a year ago we moved to a new home without a fence. We take Romeo outside for his bathroom breaks. It is easier to carry him than wait for his uneasy steps.  For the first few weeks Romeo would groan when I picked him up. As careful as I was, Romeo did not like me picking him up. Then, over time, he changed. From being stiff as a board when I held him those first few times, he has become comfortable with me. He now lets his body relax and often looks up to lick my face. I have learned how he likes to be carried and he has learned to trust me.

 Now more than 17 years after we first held Romeo in our arms in the mall we were faced with the same decision that had to be made for Peaches. A series of strokes had hit Romeo over the last year. Each stroke would leave him unable to walk for several days. Then Romeo suffered another one of those strokes. This time it was different. Romeo completely lost the use of his left rear leg. Unable to walk, Romeo was brought outside in our arms. He was fed on a plate and ate lying down. Lora massaged his legs and back to keep the muscles flexible. I constructed a makeshift sling to help him practice walking. But after four days he was no better. The doctor said to wait a few days. He gave us the pill in case Romeo did not recover. Letting our dear friend go was so very sad, but I always remembered this prayer written years ago: 

Treat me kindly, my beloved master, for no heart in all the world is more grateful for kindness than the loving heart of me.

Do not break my spirit with a stick, for though I should lick your hand between the blows, your patience and understanding will more quickly teach me the things you would have me do.

Speak to me often, for your voice is the world’s sweetest music, as you must know by the fierce wagging of my tail when your footsteps falls upon my waiting ear.

When it is cold and wet, please take me inside, for I am now a domesticated animal, no longer used to bitter elements. And I ask no greater glory than the privilege of sitting at your feet beside the hearth. Though had you no home, I would rather follow you through ice and snow than rest upon the softest pillow in the warmest home in all the land, for you are my god and I am your devoted worshiper.

Keep my pan filled with fresh water, for although I should not reproach you were it dry, I cannot tell you when I suffer thirst. Feed me clean food, that I may stay well, to romp and play and do your bidding, to walk by your side, and stand ready, willing and able to protect you with my life should your life be in danger.

And, beloved master, should the great Master see fit to deprive me of my health or sight, do not turn me away from you. Rather hold me gently in your arms as skilled hands grant me the merciful boon of eternal rest - and I will leave you knowing with the last breath I drew, my fate was ever safest in your hands.

The day came and went and now Romeo is lying next to his beloved mate. It was difficult for me because I was there holding him at his last breath. He did not go without pain as Peaches had, and that will haunt me forever. Even though you do your best, it never seems to be enough in your own mind. I don’t think I can put another dog to sleep, so that means being without another pet again. But I had many great years from two wonderful friends and that should last me forever.

This entry was posted on March 25, 2010 at 10:03 and is filed under Computer Tech Stuff. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response or trackback from your own site.

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