Rasputin 1994-2008
All beginnings inevitably have endings as well. Sometimes they inspire smiles and sometimes not, though a truly uncomfortable number of times they inspire a mixed bag of both. This is one of those latter moments.
In the case at hand, I offer the pre-eulogy for a dog, a collie actually, named Rasputin. This coming Saturday morning he is scheduled to be honorably inducted into The Eternal Bark Park after 14 and a half years of good natured companionship and friendliness to all and asundry occupying his world. Not to drone on about a mere dog, but he was by far the best dog I have ever owned and actually one of the very last remnants of my former marriage, a birthday gift from my Ex during our second year of nuptuals and our first year in our “starter” (and ender) house. The other three are a very gay, queen-like black cat named Puck, a Claddaugh ring I have never taken off once and a modest but respectable collection of emotional scars!
Variously known by several nicknames such as Rassy, Razz, Razz-man, Zen-master Razz and Vibro-Mutt (don’t ask), Rasputin loved all with equal, obvious enthusiasm. He was the self appointed referee of dogfights at the Bark Parks we frequented, often physically launching himself between combatants and causing many vet visits for us to repair his injuries, as well as the tail wagging greeting committee.
Nightly, he was always found on guard at the top of the stairs, or in my absence, on my side of the bed, a situation that freaked out some of my girlfriends after my marriage! During the daylight hours he was either underfoot, pacing the house or on the couch. On at least one occasion, indulged in a temporary dalliance with one of my opaque dark beers, but the all day hangover cut that romance short, though he was quite a happy, funny drunk.
Unfortunately, his tottering instability standing, walking and trying to get up has recently become much worst, and his bouts of senility have gotten longer and longer to match the increasing rasp of his breathing. The vet assures me that mini-strokes are to blame, just as they are so common with elderly human beings. All I can think is that when even daily ibupropen and glucosomine chondriton fails to prevent obvious pain in his eyes, then its time for me to suck it up and do the humane thing for him.
I love that dog, but I also love him enough to do the hard thing for him. It’s the least I can do, especially when he patiently sacrificed everything for me during the very worst days of my life. How can I fail him now? He will be missed, but he leaves a wealth of great memories that even now, have me smiling.