I was volunteering at the shelter when he came in. A gray faced beagle looking confused about his new surroundings. He had not one, but two separate chain links on his collar that were completely worn through. He had been chained for most of his long life, and finally made his escape. He was given a basic exam and put up for adoption. They estimated him to be at least 12, but my vet would later say closer to 14.
He didn’t pay much attention to the humans there, and couldn’t really see any dogs from his kennel. Nobody stopped to look at him. He was old. I walked him everyday for about 3 weeks, and he began to recognize me. He even wagged his tail in that slow pattern that I would later come to love. Not for anyone else, but for me. I had to bring him home. Even though he was almost completely deaf, not housebroken, and had a bit of a cranky old man attitude, he also had a spark that I couldn’t ignore. And he wagged his tail…..just for me. He claimed me.
I brought him home, bought him a soft bed, and began to love him. He learned that doors are where you stand to go out; staring at the wall didn’t yield any results. He learned that his soft bed was a comfy safe spot on a cool evening. He learned that food would be in front of him twice a day every day without fail. And most of all he learned that he wanted to be with me every waking moment. Not in a snuggly, in your face kind of way. He was far too dignified for that. What he loved most was a scritch under the chin. He would look at me with those big brown eyes, and that tail would go slowly back and forth, and he would relax so much that he would begin to snore.
He learned the joys of riding beside me on the ATV. Head held high, ears flapping in the wind, his nose drank in scents from all around—and he smiled. And his tail moved slowly back and forth.
He developed a tumor on the side of his face that encroached into his throat, cutting off his voice, and eventually growing to a point where he could no longer eat—although he sure still wanted to! This over the course of only 2-3 weeks.
We brought him back to the vet in a last ditch effort to see if the growth could be drained, but, I knew we may not be bringing him home. He was old, but he hadn’t given up. His last day, we went for a long slow ATV ride, we went for a slow walk, and he got many many scritches. And he was happy.
He died in my arms, with my face pressed against his muzzle. He was looking at me with those big brown eyes, and one last time, his tail moved slowly back and forth.
He only lived with me for 9 months, but he was loved, and he will be missed.
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