Dog Brother

You came with a bright red ribbon tied around your neck, a special third birthday present for Ricky, a dog brother.  I paid a hundred dollars for you and had to drive to all the way to Ardmore to get you but little did I know - you were priceless.  There's a picture of Ricky holding you that first day, his baby dog, on the front steps of his Grandma's house in Courtney, Oklahoma with his cowboy hat, boots and spurs.  Both pups, you two grew up together, partners in crime, thick as thieves.

When Ricky was five and had to go to kindergarten, you were there with him, faithfully by his side and in his bed.  Brothers.  I remember how brave you were when you were chasing a cat and I remember how amazed I was at how fast you could run when you had to run away from that same cat.  You would dig those claws in the ground and haul ass!

I know we left you at grandma's for awhile when we moved to New York but soon you came to live with us.  Ricky was a little older, almost in fifth grade by then.  It almost broke my heart to see your hair turning white but you were still my dog son and Ricky's dog brother so it didn't matter.

You were there when we moved to Webster and Ricky started middle-school.  Still as faithful, still as possessive, still a character.  I could never figure out why my pillow had D.O. (daschund odor)        when I'd go to bed at night until one morning I happened back into my bedroom unexpectedly and there you were, your head on my pillow, my blanket around your neck and you were sleeping! 

I never seen a boy that loved his dog as much as Ricky loved you.  He would use your bed to lay on and watch t.v., seemingly oblivious to the D.O.  Then there was the time he was so mad at you, he was holding you outstretched in his hands saying, 'Mom, take him, I'm going to kill him, take him! ' and, not knowing what you did, had him set you on the couch and move away from the hound dog... I didn't know that you were angry with Ricky for leaving you alone.  He was starving when he got home so after making himself a sandwich, getting a tall glass of milk and taking it to his room, you bit his sandwich, did not take a bite, simply bit it and knocked over his glass of milk.  There's no justice in that, you were truly nothing but a hound dog.

You would sing to us when we'd come home, you could turn from daschund to pit-bull in five seconds if someone messed with your bone, you chewed it seriously and with meaning!

You were there when Ricky started high-school and changed from a boy to a young man.  By then you were getting on in years but you still had a few miles left on you.  I remember how you liked to go bye-bye and once I asked Steven to get out of the car and get me something.  He refused, I demanded again, and again, he refused so when I asked him why he refused he told me that if he got out, you would take his spot.  He didn't have to get out after that, he had a valid point.

Then came the day for Ricky to go visit his Dad for summer and you stayed home with us.  Ricky was a teenager by then,15 I think.  I remember how you'd sit on the couch, crying then you started losing weight.  I remember how blatantly naughty you were, like being asked to go bye-bye, not going, then as soon as we got home you'd go sit by the side of the car and refuse to budge.  You just weren't yourself. 
We moved that summer and Ricky didn't come back.  You didn't want to move, you kept trying to find your way back to our old apartment but getting lost because by then you'd lost most of your sight and some hearing, too.  You were an old man and cantankerous.  You probably thought you needed to be where Ricky could find you, that maybe he wouldn't be able to find you if you moved.

It wasn't long after that that we came home and found you in the basement having a seizure.  I don't know how long it had gone on but you were burning up by the time I got you to the emergency room.  They said there was no hope, you had a high temperature and would never be the same.  It was time.  My heart broke for me and you but mostly for Ricky, that he wouldn't be able to tell you good-bye in person, that he'd have no closure.

They explained to me that it would be painless, (for who?)        you wouldn't feel anything and that your heart would just stop, I thought mine would, too.  I couldn't stop crying and I still can't.  I asked for just a little bit longer, I had some things I had to tell you in private before you went so they left me there alone with you, for the last time.

I held you in my arms like a mother holds a beloved babe.  I thanked you with all my heart for being such a good dog, dog son to me and dog brother to Ricky.  I told you Ricky was sorry he couldn't be there and that he loved you more than anything.  With that they came in and gave you the shot, you took a last breath and I thought I would die.  That was it, it was over.  After all that time, simply gone.

When Ricky found out he was devastated but in all of it he would not hear of you being cremated.  He simply refused, would not budge.  Steve Ebner finally got a beautiful place on his sister's farm, out in the country, for you to be buried.  You had a simple box with your bed and the bone you'd been chewing on.  It's been a few years since you've been gone.  I still have your collar and your last box of milk bones, I can't seem to part with either.  Ricky's turning 22 next month.  I'm sure he knows there are certain things that can never be duplicated or replaced in this life.  Tuffy Bob Watkins, you will always be one of these.  I can never thank you enough for being such a good dog.  You are eternally cherished.

© Tamryn Nieves - 2007