Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Happy Birthday

Today is Huan's birthday. He would have been seven years old.

When he was just a puppy, not even six months old, David decorated our apartment on my 24th birthday when I was at work (more on the awesomeness of David later), and I came home to this:

What a handsome birthday boy. (And I love that he isn't even a half-year old and looks the size of a full grown lab.)

I had hoped--and had really thought--that he would be here today. I kept pleading, "Plllllease let him see his birthday." To whom? God. Air. David. Anyone and anything. I just didn't want to have to say, "Huan died when he was six." I wanted him to be seven. Really, I wanted him to live forever. But six? Six hurts. Six sucks.

I would have fed Bubba a steak today. Cuddled him. Rubbed his ears. Walked him if he were able. Decorated with streamers, maybe, and then let him eat them with his steak and a side of pens and pants. (Not really, but he would have definitely been pleased.) There would have been doggy cake. There would have been love.

But instead of spending the day with Huan, I had to settle for making the day about Huan. Grace and I took a walk--not just any walk, but the Bubba route, and then I vowed never to walk that route again until March 30, 2012. I talked to her about him most of the way; I tried to teach her to say "Bubba" when we got home; and I watched her smile and coo as I showed her his pictures after lunch. I made a donation in his honor to the SPCA, which I will certainly do every year. 

There were tears yesterday, and there will be tears tomorrow, but there were happy moments today--there was love today--because that's what Huan deserves. A happy birthday. A celebration of his beautiful life.

Happy Birthday, Bubba Love. Mama loves you, today and always.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Post-Post Mortem

I created this blog to honor my dog when I knew I was losing him. My intent was to write only one post, his tribute, on February 22, 2011. Then, when he passed away this past Saturday, 3/26, I could not bear the thought of entertaining multiple questions about how he was doing, so I posted notice of his death and a link to it on Facebook. I guess that’s what they call “ripping the bandaid quickly,” though it’s been more of a slow tear. Not everyone is on Facebook, and not everyone has read my posts. Yesterday, Monday, for example, one of the secretaries at my school noticed me crying. I had to explain, and explanations turned into hysterics. And today, by total coincidence, at the end of my day, one of my students asked how my dog was, and I had to say the words aloud: “I actually had to put him to sleep on Saturday.” I didn’t cry just then, though, because I didn’t want to make him feel bad. I thanked him for asking and told him it is “hard,” and then I cried the whole car ride home.

I have decided to keep up with this blog. I need somewhere to put the pain and the experience of life without Huan. Maybe no one will read it. And that is OK. What matters is that I need to write it. And maybe people will read it and think, “He was just a dog.” And that’s OK, too. My response, if I felt inclined to give one, would be that those people probably don’t have a dog. Dog owners don’t say “just a dog” because they know two things, first and foremost: 1. They no more own a dog than they own their family. 2. A relationship with a dog is man’s greatest exercise in humility. An honest comparison of species renders man just human.

More importantly, I would say to those people that they surely have never known Huan.


Sunday, March 27, 2011

To Friends:

We said our goodbyes to Bubba last night.

If you will see me in person, especially at work, please refrain from any sort of consolatory gestures. I am so very grateful for the love and support, but I don’t think could handle hugs or even words of comfort offered in public. I will crack. It is still too raw and too painful. I am only publishing news now because I can’t bear to answer questions from multiple people about how Huan is doing. I can tell you all that he is at peace. I asked him to tell me when it was time, and he did. It was much, much too soon. But it was his time.

And to my sweet, sweet Bubba:

"Now cracks a noble heart. Goodnight, sweet Prince. 
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."

I will love you forever, Huan. From the depths of my soul, thank you for blessing my life with yours.