Run like the wind, my little friend

I always wanted a dog. My dad wouldn’t let us get one when we were young, he said he was allergic but I’m pretty sure that that was cover for, ‘hell no, I don’t want a dog in my house.’ A year after I got out of college and was able to scrounge up $450, I got my first dog. I knew I wanted a Jack Russel and I knew his name would be Hunter. I drove to the breeder where there were two puppies left in the litter and I almost didn’t take either one. There was one who was a bully, he kept knocking the other puppy over and walking all over him. And the other dog who kept trying to get to me but never could make it. I was ready to walk away when the person I was with said, “Hunter.” And that small, little tred-upon puppy came running up to me and I was done for. That puppy was coming home with me, no matter what.

Hunter was a great dog. He was like most dogs- loyal, loving and he shed as though every hair was hurting him. He had more energy than the damn Energizer bunny and he was FAST, so so fast. I did what I could to train him but not well. I took him to PetSmart for their obedience classes. We pulled up one day and I opened the door to my car and he FLEW out of the car, through the parking lot and into the open doors of the store. I then had to chase him ALL over PetSmart, yelling and screaming “HUNTER! COME HERE!!!” Clearly the obedience classes weren’t quite paying off.

I couldn’t have done better for a friend. Hunter loved me no matter what. On my bad days when I was a total shit to him, he loved me. When I came home from work, or just from the mailbox, he would be so excited to see me he’d wag his entire butt. And maybe pee. He’d sleep with me in the bed and keep me warm. He’d bark at everything until I introduced some tobasco into his mouth via a squirt gun. He hated all men in uniform, sad for me, I know. I’d take him to the dog park and he’d hump every animal that moved. But he loved to ride in the car, sitting in my lap and his head hanging out the window.  He traveled with me to Florida, Connecticut and New Hampshire. He was welcomed into my parents home, where dogs are not normally welcomed.  He drove me nuts at times and loved me all the same.

After the kids came, poor Hunter became second fiddle and then third. There was less time for puppy love, more “No Hunter, don’t lick the babies head,” and very few trips to the park. If any. But Hunter was always there for me, he loved me, he listened to me and he never let me down. I’m not sure I can say the same for me.

Almost a month to the day of writing that my dear little friend Hunter’s days were short, I had to put him to sleep. On Friday morning I took him to the vet to get his eye rechecked as the ulcer he’d had earlier in the year had returned. I was sitting in the drive-through at Starbucks when the vet called me. I knew it couldn’t be good, I’d gone exactly 1000 feet from the vets office – good news doesn’t come that fast. My choices were both bad – both surgical. Hunter was too old for surgery and for years I’d been telling myself that I wasn’t going to put him through any more procedures. The recovery was too hard (on everyone) and there was a huge chance he wasn’t going to make it. It turns out my choices were really not choices at all.

I brought Hunter home from the vet because I wanted Courtney to have a chance to say goodbye to Hunter. Or maybe it was because I just wasn’t ready. But then, you’re never ready, are you? I told Courtney that Hunter was going to heaven where he could play with other dogs and run all he wanted. Of course I was crying and she said to me, “It’s OK mommy, don’t be sad. It will be OK. Take a nap and you’ll feel better.” And then she gave me a huge hug. And I sobbed some more. Courtney and I said goodbye to my boy. She gave him some toys because, “I’m a good sharer, mom.” I gave Hunter a much needed bath, for some reason I couldn’t let him go to doggy heaven smelling like he did. I sat him in the warm water and scrubbed him clean. Then I fed him a huge chunk of steak. I mean, the dog has been on a low to no protein diet for the past several years and I have to imagine that there’s nothing he’d want more than a big chunk of steak. I wrapped him in a towel and took him to the vet.

I won’t lie. It was so hard. I was sobbing. Big, ugly, sobs. Snot dripping from my nose. I was a vision, I’m sure. I wanted to be there for Hunter, hold him to the end, be there for him like he always was for me.  I held him swaddled in that towel, held him so close.  The vet injected Hunter with the anesthesia and the shivering and the whimpering instantly stopped. And I sobbed some more. She then injected that which would stop his heart and because of the placement of my hand, I could feel his heart slow and then come to a complete stop. And just like that, my little friend was gone. It was awful.

I know I did the right thing. I know he’s in a better place where there is no pain, no arthritis and he can see clearly. The fields are open and he can run to his hearts content and the rivers are made of steaks. As my friend said, he was a part of my life and he fit in so, so well. But I was his WHOLE life and I just hope that it was a good one. I know it was for me.