Beau, our loving Beagle, came to us at eight weeks old, in late September 1995. My wife visited a farm in Kentucky where they had a new litter of Beagle pups. After this little one sat on her foot three times, she said he had claimed her. Of course, she brought him home.
We celebrated his birthday on August 1st for 15 years. We experienced uncountable hours and days of laughing, playing, chasing and snuggling with him. We have gone through trauma with him due to his excessive love of chocolate a couple of times, and his ability to reach it in unreachable places. We committed our last physical act of love to Beau on Friday, January 7, 2010. It seems impossible to grasp the fact that he is no longer with us. I can imagine the clicking of his toenails on the wooden floors and miss seeing him curled up in our closet floor, where he had made his bed for the past year. I miss rubbing the soft fur around his neck. His jumping and running days had diminished rapidly, but his love for us, and our love for him, never diminished. In fact, it is the finest part of him that will live forever.
I found this “letter” – “A Dog’s Plea” – and found comfort in it yesterday, while Beau was still with us. Read it in loving memory of Beau.
A Dog’s Plea
Treat me kindly, my beloved friend, for no heart in all the world is more grateful for kindness than the loving heart of me.
Do not break my spirit with a stick, for though I should lick your hand between blows, your patience and understanding will more quickly teach me the things you would have me learn.
Speak to me often, for your voice is the world’s sweetest music, as you must know by the fierce wagging of my tail when your footsteps fall upon my waiting ear.
Please take me inside when it is cold and wet for I am a domesticated animal, no longer accustomed to bitter elements. I ask no greater glory than the privilege of sitting at your feet beside the hearth.
Keep my pan filled with fresh water, for I cannot tell you when I suffer thirst. Feed me clean food that I may stay well and romp and play and do your bidding, to walk by your side, and stand ready, willing and able to protect you with my life, should your life be in danger.
And, my friend, when I am very old and I no longer enjoy good health, hearing and sight, do not make heroic efforts to keep me going; I am not having any fun. Please see that my trusting life is taken gently. I shall leave this earth knowing with the last breath I draw that my fate was always safest in your hands.
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1 comment:
Isa said today that we should get a puppy that looks just like Beau, and name it Beau, then we won't miss him so much. Later in the afternoon, she was pretending that Beau was here, but he was just asleep in his bed in the closet (which is where he was most of the last few months). We're dealing with the loss. A child's simple view is so helpful and happy in times like this.
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