I Am And I Do......wanna See My Girl?
Her name is Beulah. She is a dog that I did not want. We have three. Four years ago, my wife and daughter told me we needed a third dog because the two we had were old and were not likely to be around much longer. I refused. "Absolutely not, under no circumstances," said I. She was from an unwanted litter. A friend raises Black Labs and Border Collies. An unplanned rendezvous between the breeds resulted in Beulah and her litter mates. "But Dad! She is Free," my daughter pleaded. "No! We do not need another animal!" My insistence was futile. Home she came. Not only has she turned out to be the best dog I have ever owned, but she latched on to me in spite of my not wanting her. And yes, the other two dogs are still around. One is 15 and the other is 18 now.
I told my daughter that I got to name her since apparently I was going to get no say in whether or not she came home to us. I told her that her name was going to be Fart Blossom and she could not be called Blossom. My daughter said "No Problem."
There was an old gal that lived in town here when I was young who's name was Beulah. She was a bit of a kleptomaniac and the local store owners had taken to following her around their establishments so they could write down what she pocketed and then later bill her. No one had the heart to deal with her thievery in a conventional manner. I changed the dog's name to Beulah because she stole our hearts.
I wrote this story 4 years ago. The older dogs have since passed and two new dogs were rescued from the humane society as well.
Beulah mentored the first rescue, Karlie, who has become a very friendly dog.
As I wrote in a previous blog, Beulah has become diabetic and blind. While this slowed her down a bit, her personality never changed. Still the smartest dog I ever had.
Two mornings ago, I awoke at my usual 4 AM and Beulah was not sleeping on the floor on my side of the bed as she normally does. This in and of itself was not completely unusual, however as I walked into the kitchen, she was sitting in front of the refrigerator. She heard me and attempted to stand and seemed to have lost the function of her rear legs. One partially and one completely. My heart sank as I attempted to help her to stand and it was impossible. I carried her outside and she urinated while sitting, making a mess of herself. I took her into the laundry room and cleaned her up and spread a blanket on the floor, put some water in front of her (which she tentatively drank) and a bit of food.
She still seemed completely alert during this whole episode, and while I showered, I hoped that I would find her standing and wagging her tail waiting for me to let her out of the laundry room, but knowing that it would not be so.
I have had many dogs over the years. Some have passed naturally and some I have had to help along. It has never been an easy task. Under other circumstances, it was made easier by the fact that the animal was obviously suffering or in distress.
Other than not being able to stand, Beulah seemed to be completely herself. Alert, responsive and licking my hand as I pet her head. She showed no signs of pain or distress. This didn't change what needed to be done, it only made it harder.
My age and Beulah's personality made it impossible. I called the vet, who is quite some distance away and explained the situation. He told me to bring her in. The first time in my life I have ever passed this responsibility off to another. I am embarrassed and sad that I was unable to do this last thing for her, but she was too close.
I put some blankets in the front seat of the car and loaded Beulah in. As I was driving away, my wife crying caused me to tear up as well. Beulah squirmed herself around and layed her head in my lap as we drove. I fed her treats as we drove and she sniffed my pocket and licked my hand.
When we arrived at the vet, a couple hours later, I took her out of the car and set her in the grass. The vet looked her over and said that it appeared she had slipped a disc in her back or possibly even had a stroke and that there was likely nothing to be done. It was her time.
A strong sedative was administered and within a few minutes she was asleep in the grass with her head in my lap. A devil's mix of other drugs was administered and she breathed her last.
I rolled her in a blanket and loaded her in the car for the return trip home. Before I left, I had asked my Dad to come down with the backhoe and dig a grave in the rocks close to the house. When I got home the place was prepared and I carefully laid Beulah in it, still wrapped in the blanket. I covered her over.
I have never marked the grave of a dog before, but I marked Beulah's.
I have quoted Mark Twain before, but what he said is absolutely true.
"Heaven goes by favor. If it went by merit, you would stay out and your dog would go in."
I know she is there waiting with her tennis ball.
