My friend Brady left for doggie heaven. I hope that human heaven is within walking distance...
Showing posts with label brady. Show all posts
Showing posts with label brady. Show all posts
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Sunday, October 7, 2012
The Feast of St. Brady
The title of this post is not meant to be sacrilegious--and it is to some degree tongue in cheek. But it occurred to me today--the first time in over a decade that I did NOT attend church on the day of the Blessing of the Animals, that the Feast of Saint Francis was sort of Brady's special day.
Brady was an only dog when I first adopted him, and he enjoyed LOTS of rides in the Adventure Box. I originally intended to get him certified as a therapy dog, and in order to do that, he first had to earn his Canine Good Citizen certificate. So there were several rounds of obedience training, including a sort of informal "graduate" class that would meet at the end of the day when PetSmart was about to close, and the dogs could mingle off leash. There were other outings too, and Brady, by virtue of being a collie, turned heads wherever he went. People would literally "bow down" to pet him. Brady ate this up with a spoon.
I still regret that I never followed through with the animal assisted therapy thing, but, you know, "life is what happens while you're busy making other plans". Life kept me busy in plenty of different ways, and, once we adopted Winnie, Brady pretty much stopped getting his special outings. I rationalized that he had another dog at home to keep him company, so he didn't need a "doggie play group" the way he used to. And it wasn't easy for me to take TWO dogs on an outing.
Eventually, I felt a bit guilty about the wistful glances from Brady when we walked past the van but I didn't open the rear gate to let him jump in and go out somewhere to greet his adoring public. The Saint Francis Pet Blessings became a regular thing that I did with him. He had no idea what a "blessing" was, obviously, but any ritual that involved a human crouching down, stroking his head, and speaking gentle words to him clearly had his paw print of approval.
Winnie likes that kind of attention too, but it never became a ritual with her, and I don't feel any great urge to start now. At this point, I don't see her enjoying spending an extended period of time sitting or lying on the cold, hard church floor. Her 12 year old bones yearn to settle down somewhere soft and warm, and I can't say that I blame her. Perkins? I'm exhausted just thinking about how hard it would be to keep that energetic, athletic, and STRONG young guy under control amidst so many distractions.
Today I am blessed to share my life with two wonderful dogs--who each delight and amuse me in their own way. But the Feast Day of St. Francis will always be Brady's special day. It is a day that I smile at the thought of him shamelessly flirting with anyone who was willing to shower him with attention. And I shed a tear as I am reminded that I can never again stroke the soft fur on his head, and tell him what a beautiful boy he is, and what a once-in-a-lifetime friend he has been.
Brady was an only dog when I first adopted him, and he enjoyed LOTS of rides in the Adventure Box. I originally intended to get him certified as a therapy dog, and in order to do that, he first had to earn his Canine Good Citizen certificate. So there were several rounds of obedience training, including a sort of informal "graduate" class that would meet at the end of the day when PetSmart was about to close, and the dogs could mingle off leash. There were other outings too, and Brady, by virtue of being a collie, turned heads wherever he went. People would literally "bow down" to pet him. Brady ate this up with a spoon.
I still regret that I never followed through with the animal assisted therapy thing, but, you know, "life is what happens while you're busy making other plans". Life kept me busy in plenty of different ways, and, once we adopted Winnie, Brady pretty much stopped getting his special outings. I rationalized that he had another dog at home to keep him company, so he didn't need a "doggie play group" the way he used to. And it wasn't easy for me to take TWO dogs on an outing.
Eventually, I felt a bit guilty about the wistful glances from Brady when we walked past the van but I didn't open the rear gate to let him jump in and go out somewhere to greet his adoring public. The Saint Francis Pet Blessings became a regular thing that I did with him. He had no idea what a "blessing" was, obviously, but any ritual that involved a human crouching down, stroking his head, and speaking gentle words to him clearly had his paw print of approval.
Winnie likes that kind of attention too, but it never became a ritual with her, and I don't feel any great urge to start now. At this point, I don't see her enjoying spending an extended period of time sitting or lying on the cold, hard church floor. Her 12 year old bones yearn to settle down somewhere soft and warm, and I can't say that I blame her. Perkins? I'm exhausted just thinking about how hard it would be to keep that energetic, athletic, and STRONG young guy under control amidst so many distractions.
Today I am blessed to share my life with two wonderful dogs--who each delight and amuse me in their own way. But the Feast Day of St. Francis will always be Brady's special day. It is a day that I smile at the thought of him shamelessly flirting with anyone who was willing to shower him with attention. And I shed a tear as I am reminded that I can never again stroke the soft fur on his head, and tell him what a beautiful boy he is, and what a once-in-a-lifetime friend he has been.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Bereavement and the best of intentions
When we went to pick up Brady's ashes from the funeral home, we were given some little "mementos" along with the box that contained my best friend's incinerated remains. I've wanted to say something about this, but haven't had the time, nor the ability to come up with the right words.
The night before Brady died, I was pretty certain that the end was imminent, and finally did that less than joyful web search to find out about pet cremation. I found a page that listed the particulars of how much it cost to have the animal picked up at the vet's office (no charge for that) or picked up at your home (maybe $75? I'm not positive.) The cost of cremation varied depending on the weight of the pet, but the "package" included mementos such as a paw print and fur clippings. It seemed like a sweet enough idea when I first read this. In practice, it kind of rubbed me the wrong way.
Inside a little booklet of poems (of COURSE including the Rainbow Bridge) and some bland "words of wisdom", carefully crafted not to run afoul of anyone's personal beliefs, there was page with a little baggie of fur clippings. As Demetrius and I were getting into our car, the pet services representative lady pointed to some words on the page, adding, "This says where we took the fur clippings from."
What I've discovered is...NO IT BLOODY ISN'T! On the top of the page, the title reads "My Beloved Pet in a Locket". As I read it out loud to Demetrius, I noticed that it rhymed This isn't where you took fur clippings--this is a poem! I'm sure it was quite meaningful to the person who wrote it, and maybe it has brought comfort to others who have read it. But don't tell me, in a factual tone, "this is where we got the fur clippings". I mean, seriously, from around his eyes? That fur is way to short to clip. (And if you're going to give me some fur clippings as a memento, how about including some of that stunning bright white fur from his chest?)
Anyway, I searched, and here's the original poem
If you think it's petty of me to complain about this, I ask gently that you please keep that thought to yourself. Something about this whole "closure" experience did not set quite right with me, and after over a month I felt like I needed to at least try to put it into words. It is, as they say, "part of the healing process."
The night before Brady died, I was pretty certain that the end was imminent, and finally did that less than joyful web search to find out about pet cremation. I found a page that listed the particulars of how much it cost to have the animal picked up at the vet's office (no charge for that) or picked up at your home (maybe $75? I'm not positive.) The cost of cremation varied depending on the weight of the pet, but the "package" included mementos such as a paw print and fur clippings. It seemed like a sweet enough idea when I first read this. In practice, it kind of rubbed me the wrong way.
Inside a little booklet of poems (of COURSE including the Rainbow Bridge) and some bland "words of wisdom", carefully crafted not to run afoul of anyone's personal beliefs, there was page with a little baggie of fur clippings. As Demetrius and I were getting into our car, the pet services representative lady pointed to some words on the page, adding, "This says where we took the fur clippings from."
What I've discovered is...NO IT BLOODY ISN'T! On the top of the page, the title reads "My Beloved Pet in a Locket". As I read it out loud to Demetrius, I noticed that it rhymed This isn't where you took fur clippings--this is a poem! I'm sure it was quite meaningful to the person who wrote it, and maybe it has brought comfort to others who have read it. But don't tell me, in a factual tone, "this is where we got the fur clippings". I mean, seriously, from around his eyes? That fur is way to short to clip. (And if you're going to give me some fur clippings as a memento, how about including some of that stunning bright white fur from his chest?)
Anyway, I searched, and here's the original poem
Old dog in a locket.
That lies next to my heart
I will always love you
As I did right from the start.
You were right beside me
Through the darkest of my days
It was your kind and gentle nature
That made me want to stay
Now I hold you in my arms
Your breath still warm against my hand
Our hearts still beat together
And I wonder if you understand.
Through the hours that I held you
Before the light did leave your soul
I knew a way to keep you
Forever in my hold.
I snipped the hair from around your eyes
So I would always see
The beauty that surrounds me
Even in times of need
I snipped the hair from around your ears
So I would always hear
Music in the distance
To quiet all my fears.
I snipped the hair from around your back
To bring me strength in time of need
And the power in your essence
Would always be with me.
I snipped the hair from around your heart
That beat in time with mine
So I'd know your love would find me
At some distant time.
And so your life slipped out of mine
On a quiet winter day
But I knew that a part of you
Was always here to stay.
Old dog in a locket.
That lays next to my heart
I will always love
Even though we had to part.
Author Unknown
If you think it's petty of me to complain about this, I ask gently that you please keep that thought to yourself. Something about this whole "closure" experience did not set quite right with me, and after over a month I felt like I needed to at least try to put it into words. It is, as they say, "part of the healing process."
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Whew!
Brady gave us a major scare yesterday. I know that he's unsteady on his feet, and has a hard time "taking care of business" outside on his own. So I walked him on the leash several times throughout the day, being careful to not hurry him or do anything that would make him fall down.
But then, when it was time for us to watch something together as a family in the evening, I left him out in the yard for like an hour.
I now know that, apparently, Brady cannot be left unsupervised for that long. because when I went to let him in, I found him lying on the ground, with his front leg stuck in the gate (in the area I've got circled, you can see a bit of his fur there.)
The ground was wet and covered with mucky leaves. Apparently Brady was lying down, tried to get up, and his leg went through an opening in the fence. He struggled to get it out, but couldn't. He obviously thrashed on the ground a bit trying to free himself, because when I went outside, what I found was a very wet, dirty, bedraggled collie.
I had to carry him into the house, and was really concerned that the leg might be broken. We laid him on the kitchen floor and Demetrius brought me some soapy water so that I could start to clean him off.
After working at it for a while, and at least getting some of the wet leaves out of his fur, I decided that this was going to take all night unless I got him into the bathtub. I used the sprayer to rinse out a huge amount of muck from his fur.
By the way, Brady freaking hates the bathtub. So, it was at this point that I learned, yes, actually he could stand up--and he wanted out of there NOW.
So I obliged, and cleaned him up just a bit more using some "waterless shampoo and conditioner".
He's doing pretty well today, thank goodness.
But then, when it was time for us to watch something together as a family in the evening, I left him out in the yard for like an hour.
I now know that, apparently, Brady cannot be left unsupervised for that long. because when I went to let him in, I found him lying on the ground, with his front leg stuck in the gate (in the area I've got circled, you can see a bit of his fur there.)
The ground was wet and covered with mucky leaves. Apparently Brady was lying down, tried to get up, and his leg went through an opening in the fence. He struggled to get it out, but couldn't. He obviously thrashed on the ground a bit trying to free himself, because when I went outside, what I found was a very wet, dirty, bedraggled collie.
I had to carry him into the house, and was really concerned that the leg might be broken. We laid him on the kitchen floor and Demetrius brought me some soapy water so that I could start to clean him off.
After working at it for a while, and at least getting some of the wet leaves out of his fur, I decided that this was going to take all night unless I got him into the bathtub. I used the sprayer to rinse out a huge amount of muck from his fur.
By the way, Brady freaking hates the bathtub. So, it was at this point that I learned, yes, actually he could stand up--and he wanted out of there NOW.
So I obliged, and cleaned him up just a bit more using some "waterless shampoo and conditioner".
He's doing pretty well today, thank goodness.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Brady off-leash
Brady off leash. Most of the time I still walk the old guy on a leash, but sometimes he seems to do better without one. I think because he’s unsure of his footing. This way he only steps where he feels somewhat confident that he can stabilize himself.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
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