He died peacefully in my arms, the last sound he heard was my voice speaking to him in a low voice, “It’s okay, mate, it’s okay …” We’ve been inseparable for almost 20 years and we’ve lived through one in those years Live together.
Like so many good things, it came into my life unexpectedly. One day when my wife came home from work, she announced that she had something she wanted to show me. She took a small bundle of black fur from the car and set it on the floor. The bundle, a black puppy. She told me that she found him outside the school she was teaching that afternoon. “He was running around with some other stray adult dogs just like he was one of them,” she said hopefully. Unsure if I was ready for another dog, I watched dubiously as the energetic puppy set about inspecting the place, sniffing chair legs, and peeking into the kitchen. When he came over to inspect my shoe, I reached out and shook it playfully. He immediately clung to my pant leg and began to pull hard. “OK,” I thought to myself, all doubts immediately pushed aside, “I think you will.”
Thus began a new, sometimes stormy, chapter in our family life. Beau would by necessity be a house dog who would spend a lot of time indoors. This required some adjustments. He did not want to be left alone and often retaliated by attacking various inanimate objects around the house. Always a die-hard hater of stuffed toy animals – the mere sight of them brought blood to his eyes – he once beheaded the head of a large decorative fabric rabbit of my wife and arranged its ears and eyes creepily around the living room floor. Most of the time, however, he went about my business. After eating several of my sweaters that first year, one day he decided to go straight to the throat by pulling out a box of my favorite paperback books, tearing it open, and vigorously chewing up several volumes, probably the titles he was least likely to have would like to. Has given “dog ears” a whole new meaning. It weighed less than 15 pounds and was no bigger than a bread box. Even so, regardless of the size of the opponent, he was always ready for a fight. As such, more than once I was forced to literally drag him off the battlefield before I was beaten to death. On another occasion, I had to pull his head out of a hole when he was trying to follow a rodent into its den. His jaw snapped and a crazy look on his mud-smeared face.
After all that, I come to what I really wanted to say at the beginning. There has never been a more loyal companion or better friend than this little mixed-breed terrier we called Beau. During the many years that we have spent together, through the ups and downs of life, the illnesses, the accidents, the happy times and the sad ones, he was always there for me. Regardless of my mood or the season, blind to the vicissitudes of my sometimes selfish and thoughtless behavior, he remained unwaveringly indebted to me and accompanied me through every crisis and disappointment. Days when things weren’t going well, his antics, like the black birds in the Robert Frost poem, had a way to lift my spirits, and so “gave my heart / a mood change / and saved part of a day had talked. “That was my dog Beau, who always came to my rescue, far more than I have ever come to his. By offering him a home and accommodation, he returned the favor a thousand times through his devotion, his patience and above all his goodness Society. After all this time, I still miss him and sometimes dream that we will go for a walk again in a green open space. The humorist Will Rogers once said that if dogs don’t go to heaven, then he wanted to go there, where they do it. Oh yes. Yes.