One year ago today I endured the most painful moment of my life. I said goodbye to my most trusted and loyal companion, Rose, a black Lab. That moment and the pain associated with it is forever etched in my memory, a tattoo on my mind, and my very own personal nightmare from which there is no waking. I’ll spare everyone the vivid details of the vet’s office and final process. However, suffice it to say Rose was happy to the very end. Her tail wagged, she smiled, ate peanut butter and treats, and still possessed that spark of life that made her the wonderful dog she was. As I look back, I’m haunted by the memories of that day. I can still see her smiling face as she stood at the door waiting to leave the exam room and go home. Life can be cruel sometimes. All the reassurances about doing what was best for her are meaningless and void when I recall that moment.
In retrospect, I sometimes wish that I had been put down instead of her. ‘Put down.’ Now there’s a term! Two words devoid of meaning that signify the end of life. If that had been the situation, it would have spared me the pain, heartache, and guilt - my constant companions for the last year. While I have lost pets during my lifetime, this was different. Rose was different. I was her entire world. And I was the one who took her away from it. Had she been lethargic or in pain, perhaps the decision would have been somewhat easier. But she wasn’t. Oh, she had slowed down due to a tumor in her mouth that had spread to her ears. She was slow to eat on her last day, which wasn’t common. But she still ate. And, yes, the end was in sight.
As I said, all the reassurances in the world don’t change a thing. In the end, I - the one who was her entire world, the one she followed upstairs, the one she waited for outside the bathroom, the one whose shoes she had to have when I was gone - I was the one who had to make the decision and take her vet’s office for the last time. I was the one who sat with her and fed her peanut butter while the technicians prepped her for departure. I was the one who witnessed her final moments, who sat next to her and hugged her while she passed, who told her how much I loved her while I sobbed, and who sat with her for nearly an hour after she was gone because I couldn’t bear to leave her. I was the one. Me. I bear that burden. Like permanent luggage, I carry those memories daily. So today, on the first anniversary of her passing, it seems only fitting that I honor her life by recalling some of the memories she made during her brief time with me.
It all began with a previous black Lab we had - Rosie. After our cocker-spaniel, Brandee, passed away, my wife and I adopted Rosie. She was a wonderful dog with a loving personality. In 2009, when I was out to sea, she passed away. Shortly after returning, my wife, daughters, and I adopted Oakee, a Walker Hound mix, who was a princess! She loved her yard, loved to hunt, and loved to chase squirrels. A few years after we adopted Oakee, a friend of my wife’s who worked with animal rescue organizations notified us about a black Lab puppy at a high-kill shelter in North Carolina named Rose. This was May 2012. I had just been medically discharged from the Navy and wasn’t working, so I had time to travel. My wife called the shelter and told them we would pick Rose up and not to put her down. After dropping our twin daughters at pre-school, we drove to the shelter to get Rose.
Located in the middle of nowhere, it was a small facility on a dirt road behind a row of trees. There was nothing else around it. I recall referencing the GPS and surveying the area and seeing nothing but trees. Turning to my wife, I said, “If it’s not behind that row of trees, we’re lost.” Fortunately, the shelter was there. My wife completed the paperwork while I used the restroom. When I emerged, she has Rose on her leash and ready to go. The picture at the bottom of this post is from that day. She smiled all the way knowing she was going to her forever home. Rose always smiled; her tail wagged in abundance. She was such a happy dog. Her happiness truly was contagious.
Rose was a Lab through and through, a chowhound if there ever was one. Food motivated her, which made it easy to train her. Like her sister, Oakee, she was a counter surfer. We quickly learned Rose was mischievous and had to ‘dog-proof’ the house whenever we left. During that learning phase, she ate several loaves of bread, leather products (gloves, wallet, checkbook), crab leg shells, coffee beans (she through them up), paper, cardboard, and red grapes. My daughter recalls a day when unbeknownst to Rose, she was home. Hearing a noise, she investigated only to discover Rose on the dining room table with a mouthful of napkins. Upon being caught in the act, she dropped them and jumped off the table. Rose was a handful during the first few years, but we quickly adjusted and took measures to eliminate the opportunities to misbehave. A true Lab, she never outgrew her love of food. Even when she was upstairs under the bed - her lair and refuge - she’d crawl out and run down the steps when she heard a bag of cheese being opened.
For reasons I’ll never know or understand, she took to me. When we were finally able to leave her alone with her sister, and out of her crate, Rose took solace and comfort in my slippers and shoes. It was something she did throughout her life. I’d come home from work and find my slippers and shoes scattered throughout the house. Many times when I opened the door, she’d greet me with one in her mouth and carry it through the house like a trophy. In the morning, when I was out for a run, she’d wait at my daughter’s bedroom window. If I were in the garage, she’d wait in the hallway. During the six-months I worked from home due to breaking my ankle, she laid under the desk every day. When I got ready for work, she’d lay on the bed and wag her tail every time I passed. Sitting on the bed to tie my shoes, she swatted at me to pet her, which I gladly did. We had our routines, routines that I took for granted. Now they’re just memories of moments that I miss dearly.
To Rose:
My heart broke the day I had to say goodbye. A part of me died with you. You made me feel loved and special in a way no person ever has. Your presence calmed me; your companionship comforted me. You loved me unconditionally to the very end. I’m lost without you. I miss you every day. I cry often. I grieve constantly. My life is better because of you, yet it will never be the same without you.
The day Rose left, I listened to Fly to the Angels by Slaughter. Although the lyrics were written about a young girl who passed away, they resonated deeply with me.
I’ll never let you go, Rose! NEVER!! I read a quote that said “there is nothing truer in this world than the love of a good dog.” That says it all!
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