March 10, 2012
"After another Sat. nite of work at the K, a beer at the B & L with good friend Ward, and a drive home to Winthrop alone with Matt Nathanson music, it finally hit me that Buddy's big noggin will no longer be watching for me through the front picture window, nor will he scramble his 95-pound bod to greet me at the door. He was so smart, so spoiled, so loving. I will miss him dearly." -- My facebook post on the evening we put Buddy down.
(Daughter Ambryn with Buddy)
Not Kim. Yet, she gave in. Buddy treaded water in her eyes for quite some time, chewing his way through our dining room table and chairs...and running when he wasn't supposed to...and shedding hair like crazy...and growing to his 95-pound frame. He was big, spoiled and often in the way, tripping up Kim at inopportune times.
But in that way only a family pet can bring, Buddy became a fixture in the Melius home. He loved to play outside in the winter, snatching our beanies or gloves and running off, waiting until the last moment as we neared, then running off with them again. He and I would wrestle in the living room, once getting head-butted so hard he nearly knocked me out.
And he was smart. Early on, fellow Winthropite Darv Grack spotted me with Buddy and asked if he could purchase the mut, which surprised me and would have made for a quick sale had Kim been the first to hear it.
"I can tell your dog's smart," Darv said. "He'd make a great hunting dog." I'm no hunter, so it was news to me. But I said we'd hang on to Buddy and turned him into the largest house dog in town.
But this past Thanksgiving holiday, we could tell he was really slowing down and struggling with movement. Over Christmas, all of our six kids saw the change and wondered how I would do if Buddy was to go. I had grown extremely close to him but joked about how he was my best friend. I'd never bought into the "man's best friend." 'Til now.
On Friday, March 9, Buddy had difficulty walking. Daughter Mikell had to help him outside, and then back inside again while Kim and I were at work. Finally, he blopped down on the dining room floor, only managing to raise his head before settling back down. We called the vet, asking for recommendations, telling her that Buddy didn't appear to be in pain, just frustrated by his inability to move. She said keep him warm and call her again in the morning.
That night, I slept by Buddy, holding him at times and crying a lot. We managed to get him on to an old sleeping bag to keep him warm. We had still hoped he might come around, but through the night he deteriorated. By morning, we knew. We tried to reach Mikell, who had left that night to visit a friend, but had no luck. So my wife and I wrapped him in the sleeping bag, struggled a bit to get him into the back seat of the car, and drove the 17 miles to our Fairfax vet.
Dr. Diane Hansgen of the Fairfax Veterinary Clinic said Buddy likely had a massive stroke and asked if we were ready to put him down. Suddenly, we knew he would soon be leaving us. We thought we'd have Buddy for yet another summer, with Mikell and son #4 Andy both expected to be at home, Andy for maybe one last time. It's a sadness I imagine only the loss of a family pet can bring. It was a first-time experience for us all.
The clinic staff offered a stretcher to help bring Buddy in, but this time I needed to carry him and did, slipping into the backseat of the Neon and managing to place my arms under his body. Buddy's black eyes were open but his body useless. But he was warm. And this time, he was relaxed as I placed him on the vet's table. In the past, he'd flop down on the floor before his rabies shots, and I would have one dickens of a time lifting him up.
Dr. Hansgen asked if Kim and I were ready, and we were, and soon, Buddy was dead, still warm, but gone. Kim and I had a few minutes with Buddy, both crying hard and saying goodbye. I then helped Dr. Hansgen prepare him and placed him into a freezer, as Kim and I decided to have him cremated. Never in my wildest imagination, looking back, did I think we'd cremate him. But it was an easy decision. It was Buddy, my best friend.
Kim cried for two days straight. We had known she was warming up to Buddy the last few years, but this took us all by surprise. My wife has been a dedicated hospice social worker over the years and knows death and grief. So she grieved. Deeply.
Buddy had been a fixture in our home. Mikell, our sixth and last child, had never known our home without him. Buddy's loss, I think, hit Kim so hard because it's another sign how time moves on. And while marriage is tough and life can be difficult, family memories can be wonderful. And those of Buddy are.
