He was the Best Dog I Never Wanted in the First Place.
I’m not a dog person, but I guess he wasn’t really much of a dog.
A swan-like neck, and a cat-like attitude, and he folded up like an apple scroll.
Earlier this year we almost lost him; and I’m thankful to have had another 6 months since then.
A month ago he started going down-hill. Didn’t really want to eat as much as he should. I was worried but not alarmed. Since then I’ve cooked and baked anything I could think of to try to appeal to his appetite. It worked a little, but just not enough.
Last Sunday I had to fly to Melbourne for work, and I was afraid. I knew it could get critical while I was away, but I couldn’t face being distracted and far away and helpless to do anything, so I asked Abbey to not let me know anything either way till I got back, and she did an admirable job.
As I sat waiting for the taxi on Sunday evening, he nestled on our laps with his nose resting on my legs and I was so tempted to just abandon the whole trip. Screw it. I’m finishing my job in 2 weeks anyway, what is the worst they can do?!
Leaving that nose behind was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
I know I couldn’t have done anything further for him, and I’m not entirely sure if I would have even wanted to be there when it happened. But still.
Wednesday night I got home after delay upon delay.
It couldn’t have been more fitting.
As I was walking up the driveway I wasn’t sure which of the Schrödinger’s Dog outcomes I would prefer.
When I knocked on the door and Abbey opened it for me, I knew.
I’ll miss Bronte badly.
Every time I’d come home he would be standing there at the door, wagging his tail to varying degrees of crazy.
For a few moments he’d greet me like his favourite.
And so did I.
RIP – 2014-12-02