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On Wiggly Mutts and Puppy Butts

I had a dog.

I’ve pretty much always had a dog.

First, there was Muffin.

Muffin had a white triangle on her head.

She was a gift to my brother right before I was born, undoubtedly intended to lessen the blow of the impending realization that there’s going to be a baby in the house.  And a baby might mean people sometimes forget about my brother, the non-baby, but that’s okay because they gave him a puppy.

Muffin looooved Joel.

But she loved me, too.

Thirteen years later, Muffin died in my arms.

Soon after came Lexie and Beemer, named after 2 cars my parents wanted but would likely never own.

Mom, Beemer & Lexie

If you ask me, the dogs were better than the cars.

I missed them when I moved away from home, but they always remembered me when I came back.  No matter how long it had been.

Over time, the homes changed.  The people in them changed.  But the dogs were always there.  Beemer, with his incessant need to Fetch! and Lexie, nibbling my hair by way of greeting.

Earlier this week, Beemer got sick.  Ed and my mom took him to the vet, but they didn’t take him home.  They had to do what people sometimes need to do when they own a dog.  When they love a dog.

They had to say goodbye.

I said goodbye too, on the phone, trying desperately to keep my voice from catching on the lump that had lodged itself deep inside my throat.  They said his eyes lit up.  He heard me.  He knew me.  And when I hung up, I lost it but good.  Big, ugly sobs producing big, ugly tears.  That horrifically hideous cry that comes when you don’t care what it’s doing to your body, because all that matters right in that moment is the need of your soul.

And that need is release.  To grieve.  In waves with each new realization:

I’ll never throw him a frisbee again.

Ugly sobs.

I’ll never again bury my face in his fur.

More ugly sobs.

I’ll never get to see his entire butt wiggle with excitement when I give him a treat.

There isn’t enough tissue in the world, sometimes.

My dogs came to comfort me that night, nuzzling into my sides and laying their heads in my lap.  And the grief crested again, when I realized this probably wouldn’t be the last time I’d have to feel this way.


I’m not sure it’s wise to admit how much that furball affected me.  And I’m sorry if I’ve made you sad this morning or if I’m only confirming the fact that I’m crazy.

If you’ve never known the undying adoration of a dog, I wouldn’t expect you to understand.

They just get in.

And when they do, they don’t ever really leave.

I’m gonna miss you, Beemer-butt.  You always made me happy.

And I hope that wherever you are, the peanut butter is plentiful and the frisbees never stop flying.



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Now this is something I can completely relate to with you. I could certainly recount both of the stories I have from having to put both of my dogs down (within 4 months of each other). I remember those days, and events, incredibly vividly.

Reminds me of a dream I had a week or so back too. Horribly depressing. Maybe I’ll write about it soon since you’ve tapped the sap within.

But sorry to hear about Beemer. Glad the God Dogs were there to comfort you.


Eek… I don’t think I want to hear about that dream.

I’m sorry about your pups, though — losing them so close together must have been incredibly hard. :(


My family has lost dogs before to . My condolences for your loss.


Thanks, Eugene. :)


Wiping my eyes, couldn’t even FINISH reading this one, I am such a dog lover that when one of ours leaves us, it requires an almost immediate trip to the pound/rescue/etc. So that I can get over the loss and start focusing on giving another one a good life. (thank God for petfinder, so now I don’t have to go through the “rows” of dogs before I pick one out–not that I ever made it very far) Dogs just don’t live long enough~


I’m sorry… I didn’t set out to make everyone sad, I promise. It just had to come out. But I’m glad there’s someone like you in the world to love dogs who otherwise would never know how that feels. :)


And I thought I was over the crying, just feeling sad. You started me going again. When he heard your voice on the phone, I think he smiled a little.


You’re killing me, ma. Love you. :)


Oh I’m so so sorry


Thank you. :)


Oh, I’m so sorry. Losing a dog is one of the worst things. I can still remember the day my childhood dog died. There are no words.


Oh for goodness sakes. I’ve never had a dog in my life and this made me tear up. Sorry for your loss.


Thank you, and I’m sorry I made you tear up. :)


Aww I’m sorry :(


Thanks, Catherine. :)

Barb Lewis

you move on but you never forget…..I still remember my childhood dog. She lived 17 years and I had to say goodbye to her on the phone too. Hardest day I can think of. I dressed her in doll clothes, made her lie in the bed on her back with covers tucked carefully under her front paws. She sat in the front window every day waiting for mom to get home, even after she became blind….she knew. Yes my dear I can completely relate and the pain eases so the good memories prevail.


Awww I love that! Dogs will put up with any humiliation we put them through and still come back for more. Their loyalty is simply unmatched. :)

Colleen Brynn

Well… like you said, people either get it or they don’t. It is completely earth shattering to lose a pet. A pet is so much more than a ‘pet’… they are a best friend, a comedian, a therapist, a companion, a sibling, a soul mate. People who don’t get that are missing out, but I guess.. ignorance is bliss or something. I can’t live my life without animals by my side even though I know I will eventually have to say goodbye. Nothing makes that any easier, but living without them would be even harder.

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