I Remember

I remember the first time I met you just as clearly as the last time I laid eyes on you. It was a sweltering day in mid-August 1998. We drove two hours to the farm in which you were born, the excitement of meeting you had a kaleidoscope of butterfly’s encompassing my being. It was the longest two hours of my life. We had to meander down country roads with rolling hills to get to you. As I was only thirteen, I was ready to welcome you into my life at a time when I needed you most.

I remember the vet who bred you extended an invitation to us to come and meet you to pick you out. Had I known that was the day which would change the course of my life forever, I might have brought a camera.

I remember you were only five weeks old. You frolicked around with your six brothers and sisters, your mom occasionally joining in on the fun. It looked like ye were trying to become a puppy ball to roll down the green pastures, but ye kept falling over each other…it was adorable. At the time, you were too small to fly the nest, but the vet was eager to place you with a family so he could see which of you were left for the next. It wasn’t like it is today whereby you have to have home visits and inspections, no, we knew the vets next door neighbour, Des, through my father’s work and his word was all that was needed. Des had adopted your brother two years prior. We met with him first and he was only half the dog you became…and he was a good dog.

I remember the vision of my mother with all seven of you in the crook of her arm. That is something that will never be forgotten. Of course it was the time before mobile phones, so there is no actual record of that day except in my memory. The mind is a fickle thing, but that was the first time meeting you and I was so surprised that my mother, who was not a lover of dogs, held all seven puppies in her arms that it is engraved in my brain.

I remember sitting on the dry green grass and you tried and tried to jump onto my lap, each time falling onto your back, your four paws up in the air. That was the first time you made me laugh…. the first of many. Your paws big and the extra black crinkles you had on the top of your head screamed that you were bound to be a big boy, for a Jack Russell anyway. In the end I picked you up with my right hand and held you up to my face. Your smell was like lavender and honeysuckle…intoxicating.

I remember that if I got my way, I would have spent all day with you, but the vet had to get back to work. As I kissed the folds of skin on your head, I was relieved when the vet told me I could collect you in two weeks. A tear crept from my eye as you sat in the grass, alone, whimpering as I left….it really tugged on my heartstrings.

I remember the next two weeks to be the longest in the history of my memories. We went to the pet shop and bought everything we thought you would need. We got a bed, and food bowls, and toys galore; squeaky ones; chewy ones and most of all, soft ones. We made your grey, big, hard, plastic, indestructible bed under the kitchen table and filled it with soft blankets. We knew you would be teething when you arrived to your forever home so we tried our best to cater to those needs.

I remember the day we were finally able to pick you up. We arrived at Des’s house and had finger food as the vet was out on another house call. We waited, and waited, and waited. Finally, after three hours in Des’s house, the vet returned home. The sun that was splitting the stones all day had gone and the moon was full. The vet apologised profusely…he had to do a caesarean on a boxer. It was touch and go, but thankfully she, and her puppies, survived.

I remember walking onto the darkened field, the light from the kitchen window shining on the remaining three puppies. There were two girls and you, my boy, left. You had grown substantially since the last time I had seen you yet you were still tiny. As the financial transaction took place, I cradled you in my arms and wrapped you in one of your mothers jumpers so that you wouldn’t be homesick. The journey home was a bumpy one, full of pot holes, and there you sat in your box, in the middle of the back seat and cried. My heart went out to you so I picked you up and cradled you once more…and of course you settled.

I remember our life together. It was full of happiness and fun. You were the best dog anyone could have ever asked for. You protected me when no one else could…. we were obviously destined to find each other. It was almost fourteen years of the best relationship I ever had, and will ever have.

I remember the last time I saw you. It was a drizzly May afternoon. I carried you into the vets as you were unable to walk due to your seizures as a result of the diabetes. The whole car ride I held you close, just like when you were a puppy that first night. And just like the first night, your smell was intoxicating. When the vet, Gary, administered the medication to end your suffering I cried. They were mostly sad tears, but I remembered our life together and as you went limp in my arms, I kissed your crinkly, now grey head and said goodbye.

I remember leaving you, cold and alone on that table and walking away. Flashes of never forgotten memories crossed my mind, but I was too sad to entertain them. You were, and will always be, my best friend. I don’t think I could ever love another being in the same way I loved you. My heart ached and the kaleidoscope of butterflies encompassed my being once again. That image of you lying on that slab will haunt me forever. I shouldn’t have left you there alone and afraid. But what I need to remember is that you were gone, yet you will always be in my heart…forever.