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The Past

Wednesday, July 21, 2004
-*chiming remembrance*-

This one's for Golden.

A few months ago we lost Sam, our poodle of many years and as many more headaches and while we may not have appreciated him as much as we should have like or given him as much attention as he wanted, we loved him with all our hearts and that was brought out in us, as a family, when he was so unfairly taken from us. He wanted nothing more than to protect us from the vicious dog and he may have even saved Hershey's life that day he fought. Sam watched over Golden constantly, never leaving his side for a moment. He evern waited for Goldie to finish all his food first before touching any of his, as if to offer it to the old man in case he wanted anymore. He was a good dog and so was The Poopus.

This morning at 10:44 AM Golden was put to sleep. He was almost 16 years old and in pretty bad shape when we took him to the doctor this morning. I stayed with him for the last hour of his life, talking to him, petting him, giving him all the attention he had so eagerly wanted for the past few months in which he would stay up all night barking and sleep all day in the way of everyone's path. The family couldn't take it anymore. My mother gets very little sleep as it is and grandma Beba couldn't take going up and down the stairs each time he would make a ruckus to let him out, or hand feed him, or stroke his fur, and pat his head. His actions were wearing everyone down but me because I lived upstairs and only faintly heard his clamoring and grandma's complaints and my mother's harsh words to him to just keep quiet in the early morning hours.

We talked about a lot of things. I told him how I remember the first time I ever dressed him up to look silly by putting a Mets cap on him that he later took off and chewed the one-size-fits-all fastener. I remember how he used to love to eat snow. If you threw a snowball at him, he'd try to catch it. He adored fetching games and was eager to always return the stick or ball and drop it at your feet for you to throw again. Golden remembered those things and I told him that the Mets would try to make the playoffs for him this year and that when the snow came I would draw his bust out in it with a stick. I assured him that I'd teach Hershey how to properly fetch even if I had to get down on all fours and have my dad throw the stick while she watched.

So many memories and so many years I grew up with him. Before we moved into this house, Golden would sleep on my bed with me and snore so loudly I would tell him to lay on the floor where his head wasn't propped on a pillow causing him to make those sounds. Up until the day he died, Golden was old-fashioned. He didn't even like to stay put on the doggie pillows we had all over the house; he preferred the floor. As much as it hurts me to say and think that I will never see him again, I know it is right to face the facts in life and remind myself that it has his time to go. He could barely stand and I think if we hadn't put him down this morning that he would have suffered through the next month or two and passed away in a lot of pain. There is no cure for old age and Golden didn't need one. He knew every step of the way that he was ready to go and faced it head-on and never once looked back.

Where ever you re Poopus, know that I loved you and so did everyone who had to decide what to do for you the past few months. It was a hard decision but know that we did not make it out of comfort to ourselves and certainly not in haste. Maybe I'll see you in the next life, be there one. Wait for me and I'll find you.

Good night Golden. May all your wishes come true.

Grey (1:53 AM)

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