I miss my puppy.
Almost 12 years ago, my parents walked onto my elementary school playground during recess holding a wriggling black Labrador puppy. It had been about 10 months since we had to put our first dog, Buddy, to sleep. My dad had said it would be a long time before we got another dog, but when puppy season rolled around that spring, he couldn't resist himself.
Dozer was a wobbly 7 weeks old and seemed to have a perpetual mischievous grin. His bright eyes and over-sized paws made me, an 8-year-old animal-loving freak, fall in love immediately. His skin seemed too big for him and it wrinkled across his shoulders and neck. He gnawed constantly on everything and chased my sisters and I around, biting at our ankles. He had some annoying habits, which we assumed were just puppy quirks that he would outgrow.
But he didn't. Dozer became this dog that ate almost everything. He destroyed the so-called indestructible chew toy. He chewed up the plastic arms of lawn chairs. He once ate half a slug before deciding it tasted gross, leaving the other half on top of our picnic table. He seems to like the taste of wooden furniture and commonly scraped chunks of wood from chair legs. He also seemed to enjoy legos and crayons, which always made his poop easy to spot in the yard. Dozer was also very territorial and protective. He would go nuts when the school children would walk by on their way home, racing back and forth along the fence line while barking incessantly. He once bit a guy from our church because he leaned over the fence a little too much while he was talking to me. Within months, it was evident that Dozer was bred for hunting. He stalked fuzzy animals around our yard, eventually bursting into a heated chase that he always lost. He nearly caught a squirrel once and he was running so quickly that my dad and I, who were watching, thought that he was going to run into the tree that the squirrel lept up.
Our move to Florida calmed Dozer down a little bit. Our neighbors on one side had a German Shepherd and they commonly had barking matches. Dozer hated Will, the neighbor on the other side, and always watched Will from the corner of his eye when he was doing yardwork. He also managed to develop a disdain for people in uniform, from police officers to the mailman, who tried to win him over with dog treats with no success. Dozer also found more interesting things to eat, his favorite being the small lizards that scurried all over our patio. Despite being a Lab and made to swim, Dozer was scared to death of our swimming pool. The only time he went in willingly (we pushed him in several times) was when he saw my mom floating on a raft and apparently thought it would hold him too. Needless to say, it did not. Instead, it popped and my mom got shoved underwater by a hairy black mass of flailing dog. My parents eventually replaced the carpet in my room with hardwood, since it stayed cooler and was nicer for Dozer to sleep on. So Dozer became my roommate and we shared some great times together (except for on two occasions when he literally ate my homework). However, Dozer decided that the floor was not good enough for him, and he would rather sleep next to me on the bed. He was so used to his own side that when I had friends sleep over, he would inch in between us and push his way onto his side, knocking my friends off. Florida was also where Dozer became my running buddy, joining me for trots through the neighborhood on a regular basis. Protective as usual, he always flipped out when creepers would yell out their car windows as they drove by.
When we moved to Illinois, it was apparent that Dozer was slowing down. He was 7 years old, a nice middle-aged man by then, and mellowed out a lot. He was sluggish in the summer heat and liked to lounge around the house a lot. However, we soon learned that Dozer loved snow. He would run through it with his nose to the ground, blowing huge puffs of powder into the air. He ate the snowballs we threw at him and liked to stand right where we needed to drop the snow we were shoveling. While Dozer quit stalking animals for the most part, he developed this desire to stalk my boyfriend at the time. Eventually, we would catch him and he would just lope over with this look on his face like "what? I wasn't doing anything."
Going to college was rough on me for the sole reason that I had to leave my buddy behind. I will quickly admit that I did not miss my parents or my sisters, but I missed Dozer more than anything. Sometimes when I would call, my dad would hold the phone up to Dozer's ear so I could talk to him. My dad said that he would get this weird look on his face and then get really excited. That's when he would start barking, which always made me smile.
As Dozer got older and greyer, I began to start telling him "don't die before I come home" everytime I went back to school after a break. And everytime I came back home, there he was, wagging his tail so hard that his entire body swayed from side to side.
But this spring break was different. When I got home, my dad let Dozer out to see me and he looked slow and weak. My dad told me that he had been sick, throwing up regularly. Dozer celebrated his 12th birthday on March 23rd, but was too sick to eat his birthday dinner. The next morning, we took Dozer to the vet, and after x-rays and an ultrasound were done, we were informed that Dozer had cancer in his spleen and lungs. Somehow, I had known that he wasn't going to be coming home with us, but it still stung. I began to cry, as did my dad, and Jason tried his best to comfort me. They brought Dozer back in so we could say goodbye before they gave him the injection. I held my hands under his chin and kissed him right between the eyes like I always did. He licked my face and then set his head down. My puppy was gone.
My protector, roommate, running buddy, playmate, brother, and friend was gone.
We carried his collar and leash back to the van and drove home. On the way, my dad said, "Well, he listened. He waited for you to come home before he decided it was time to go."
A little grin spread across my face. "What a butthead. That stupid, stubborn dog," I said, shaking my head.
I'm not sure whether he did it intentionally or if it was just coincidence, but he did wait for me to come home. Despite his weird quirks, he was always obedient, and this seemed to be the last command that he would listen to.
There is a children's picture book called "Dog Heaven". It tells about a magical world where everybody's pet dogs go when they die. Well, personally, I hope that that every dog goes to the real heaven. And I hope that when I get there, every dog I have ever met will come rushing at me, tails wagging and tongues licking. That would be the best greeting I could ever ask for.
Dozer was a wobbly 7 weeks old and seemed to have a perpetual mischievous grin. His bright eyes and over-sized paws made me, an 8-year-old animal-loving freak, fall in love immediately. His skin seemed too big for him and it wrinkled across his shoulders and neck. He gnawed constantly on everything and chased my sisters and I around, biting at our ankles. He had some annoying habits, which we assumed were just puppy quirks that he would outgrow.
But he didn't. Dozer became this dog that ate almost everything. He destroyed the so-called indestructible chew toy. He chewed up the plastic arms of lawn chairs. He once ate half a slug before deciding it tasted gross, leaving the other half on top of our picnic table. He seems to like the taste of wooden furniture and commonly scraped chunks of wood from chair legs. He also seemed to enjoy legos and crayons, which always made his poop easy to spot in the yard. Dozer was also very territorial and protective. He would go nuts when the school children would walk by on their way home, racing back and forth along the fence line while barking incessantly. He once bit a guy from our church because he leaned over the fence a little too much while he was talking to me. Within months, it was evident that Dozer was bred for hunting. He stalked fuzzy animals around our yard, eventually bursting into a heated chase that he always lost. He nearly caught a squirrel once and he was running so quickly that my dad and I, who were watching, thought that he was going to run into the tree that the squirrel lept up.
Our move to Florida calmed Dozer down a little bit. Our neighbors on one side had a German Shepherd and they commonly had barking matches. Dozer hated Will, the neighbor on the other side, and always watched Will from the corner of his eye when he was doing yardwork. He also managed to develop a disdain for people in uniform, from police officers to the mailman, who tried to win him over with dog treats with no success. Dozer also found more interesting things to eat, his favorite being the small lizards that scurried all over our patio. Despite being a Lab and made to swim, Dozer was scared to death of our swimming pool. The only time he went in willingly (we pushed him in several times) was when he saw my mom floating on a raft and apparently thought it would hold him too. Needless to say, it did not. Instead, it popped and my mom got shoved underwater by a hairy black mass of flailing dog. My parents eventually replaced the carpet in my room with hardwood, since it stayed cooler and was nicer for Dozer to sleep on. So Dozer became my roommate and we shared some great times together (except for on two occasions when he literally ate my homework). However, Dozer decided that the floor was not good enough for him, and he would rather sleep next to me on the bed. He was so used to his own side that when I had friends sleep over, he would inch in between us and push his way onto his side, knocking my friends off. Florida was also where Dozer became my running buddy, joining me for trots through the neighborhood on a regular basis. Protective as usual, he always flipped out when creepers would yell out their car windows as they drove by.
When we moved to Illinois, it was apparent that Dozer was slowing down. He was 7 years old, a nice middle-aged man by then, and mellowed out a lot. He was sluggish in the summer heat and liked to lounge around the house a lot. However, we soon learned that Dozer loved snow. He would run through it with his nose to the ground, blowing huge puffs of powder into the air. He ate the snowballs we threw at him and liked to stand right where we needed to drop the snow we were shoveling. While Dozer quit stalking animals for the most part, he developed this desire to stalk my boyfriend at the time. Eventually, we would catch him and he would just lope over with this look on his face like "what? I wasn't doing anything."
Going to college was rough on me for the sole reason that I had to leave my buddy behind. I will quickly admit that I did not miss my parents or my sisters, but I missed Dozer more than anything. Sometimes when I would call, my dad would hold the phone up to Dozer's ear so I could talk to him. My dad said that he would get this weird look on his face and then get really excited. That's when he would start barking, which always made me smile.
As Dozer got older and greyer, I began to start telling him "don't die before I come home" everytime I went back to school after a break. And everytime I came back home, there he was, wagging his tail so hard that his entire body swayed from side to side.
But this spring break was different. When I got home, my dad let Dozer out to see me and he looked slow and weak. My dad told me that he had been sick, throwing up regularly. Dozer celebrated his 12th birthday on March 23rd, but was too sick to eat his birthday dinner. The next morning, we took Dozer to the vet, and after x-rays and an ultrasound were done, we were informed that Dozer had cancer in his spleen and lungs. Somehow, I had known that he wasn't going to be coming home with us, but it still stung. I began to cry, as did my dad, and Jason tried his best to comfort me. They brought Dozer back in so we could say goodbye before they gave him the injection. I held my hands under his chin and kissed him right between the eyes like I always did. He licked my face and then set his head down. My puppy was gone.
My protector, roommate, running buddy, playmate, brother, and friend was gone.
We carried his collar and leash back to the van and drove home. On the way, my dad said, "Well, he listened. He waited for you to come home before he decided it was time to go."
A little grin spread across my face. "What a butthead. That stupid, stubborn dog," I said, shaking my head.
I'm not sure whether he did it intentionally or if it was just coincidence, but he did wait for me to come home. Despite his weird quirks, he was always obedient, and this seemed to be the last command that he would listen to.
There is a children's picture book called "Dog Heaven". It tells about a magical world where everybody's pet dogs go when they die. Well, personally, I hope that that every dog goes to the real heaven. And I hope that when I get there, every dog I have ever met will come rushing at me, tails wagging and tongues licking. That would be the best greeting I could ever ask for.