Goodbye Bartleby
May 1st, 2010Today is a day that I do one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
Six years ago, an abused, hurting and scared dog came into my life. Long haired, snaggle toothed, the little guy we consistently called the “king of pitiful” made his entrance and my life has never been the same since. There were many times at first that I wasn’t sure it would work out. He had so many wounds. At any loud noise he would cower away. He never did become one to bark. I can count the number of times he’s barked in the six years I’ve had him on one hand. It took forever to get him house trained because the people who had him before me had kept him caged up so long and so often that he learned to do his business wherever he was instead of anything else. His jaw had been broken. His teeth rotted out and we had to pull all but his canines. He growled and tried to hide if anyone (including me or Loki) would come near him.
And, yet, as time went on, he blossomed. Oh, he never became a dog that would do tricks or anything. But, he had his moments where he would bounce through the house. And, because it was so out of character for him, when he did it you couldn’t help but laugh. He would tear through the house to come find me and then drop his front end down with his butt in the air and tail just wagging. Then pounce forward a little bit and just – play. Bart’s version of play has always been milder than Loki’s or Valkyrie’s. But to see that come out in a pup that had been so beaten down for so long – it was wonderful.
He was never one that people would necessarily be drawn to for his antics – but, he had a quiet charm that suckered you in. He loved to lay beside you and watch movies while you brushed him. And, as long as he was near me, as long as he could see me – he was happy. He was one of the most undemanding and most loving dogs I’ve every known.
And, I have to say goodbye to him today.
He’s given up and decided it’s time to to walk around somewhere else where he won’t hurt when he walks, where he can eat with all his teeth and he can bounce and play like he hasn’t really been able to, here. I’m going to miss him. He stopped eating two weeks ago, and I tried everything I could think of to interest him. Twice he formed some interest and would eat the tiniest bit from my hand; but, not enough. As hard as it is to do, it’s what he wants. Dogs know these things. They know when it’s time to go – and, Bart’s decided it is his time. I can’t keep him here when he’s starving and ready to go. But, the selfish part of myself…the little girl who still sits there deep inside…wants to grab him up and hold on and never let go.
My dogs have been my constants in life. My jobs, my boyfriends, my homes, my furniture, my cars, my computers – they all change. My friends come and go. My son and my family – as much as I absolutely adore and love them (and not a one of them doubts on that score) – are all constants…but, they are distant constants. Constants that I have to pick up the phone and call or sit at a computer and write. It’s my dogs that have been there when my world has fallen apart. My dogs that curl up around me and make me feel loved when I feel unlovable. My dogs that have helped me make it through nights I wasn’t at all sure I wanted to make it through.
And, now it’s time to say goodbye to one of them. I’ve been blessed to have had him for five years more than they figured I would. He was in such bad shape when he came to me. I wouldn’t change a thing in all those years where he’s concerned. I just wish I could turn off the waterworks. I keep getting hit randomly by tears and I know it’s driving Mike nuts. I know they are ‘just dogs’ and logically they die long before us. I know Bart’s had a great life with me and has been loved and experienced the kind of life he should have had those nine years before he came to me. I know he never wanted for anything; and, I know it’s time for him to go. The logical part of my mind is completely on board with the decision, as hard as it is. It’s the emotional part of my mind – the little girl hidden down there that I don’t let come out to play too often – who is rising up and throwing a fit. It isn’t that I don’t want to let go – I know it’s time. It’s just that I’m going to miss him. The beds that I kept scattered around in the office and bedroom because he always followed me from one room to the other won’t have his quiet self curled up in them anymore. There won’t be any moments of spastic darting through the house to try and beat me to the room he thinks I’m going to so he can be there waiting for me (a common occurrence). I’ll miss that.
I know he’s going to a better place and will be healthy and happy and have the ability to have the kind of life he should have had here. And, I’m happy about that. But, the selfish part of me needs to indulge a little while in grieving and letting go. I love this dog…some say you can only “cathect” where dogs are concerned. I disagree. They are my family and I adore each one of them. And, it hurts and makes me sad to have to say goodbye.
