Around 3:30AM on October 19th, we lost our oldest "child", our best friend, our chief protector, our "babysitter", our faithful companion. Just walking from room to room these days is apt to bring on a spurt of tears. Our 11 year old shepherd-rottweiler mix is gone. No room in the house seems right. If I'm in the kitchen, it seems I should be shoo-ing him out of the kitchen trash where he would always have been foraging for a stray bit of something edible. If I walk into the dining room, it seems he should be lying on his back, four paws up in the air, napping in his crate. If I am at my desk, there should be a very large, very furry footwarmer right next to me. Indy did not sleep in our bedroom; he slept on the cool tile floor of our entryway. But, when he paid a visit to the bedroom, it was a time of great celebration for him. He was full of exuberant joy as he threw himself as close to us as he could get. Sometimes even that wasn't close enough; on top of us was the way to go in those times. And we were left to hunker down and protect ourselves, laughing all the while, as this lovable furry 100-pound dog threw himself on us and reveled in doing so.
On occasion, Indy was known to eat a lot of food and shortly thereafter, lose it. So, when he threw up Saturday night, we didn't think a whole lot of it. And, I had always hoped that the rottweiler part would have come out in his hips, saving him from hip dysplasia which causes such problems for shepherds. But, sure enough as he got older, on occasion, we would notice him limping. We'd give him an ibuprofen and he'd do fine thereafter. It was not a big deal, just an ibuprofen maybe once every 2-3 weeks. But Saturday night he seemed to be having a really hard time and we couldn't get an ibuprofen into him. He laid in the entryway, not here by my chair as was his usual practice. I finally went in and sat next to him on the floor and petted him and loved on him and that was all okay with him. I was a bit concerned about him and actually considered staying up with him. But around midnight I finally went to bed. At 3:30AM, I got up to go to the bathroom and he was lying at the foot of our bed, something he NEVER did. I stepped over him and went into the bathroom and he didn't move. That, too, was unusual. Finally it began to dawn on me. I laid my hand on him and he was still warm but he wasn't breathing. I woke Joe and he and I both had a good cry. We just couldn't believe it had happened that way. I wish now I'd stayed up with him, been with him at the end. Obviously, he'd gotten as close to me as he could manage before it happened........
He was a wild and crazy dog, an adventurer in his younger days, making his "Indiana" name an excellent fit. He was, of course, named after Indiana Jones. And for the first year of his life, he drove me more nutso than any dog I've ever had. But, as he got older, he just got sweeter and sweeter. He was amazingly smart. They say a dog who lives inside with his masters will pick up a vocabulary of about 200 words in his lifetime. I have no doubt Indy's vocabulary was much larger than that. He always seemed to know what was happening. He was the alpha dog in the house as well. If the food dish was empty, he did his duty for the other dogs--he brought us the dish so that we would refill it. If they were low on water, he'd knock the water bottle off its stand, making all kinds of noise, to let us humans know the dogs needed water. When the doorbell rang, he wanted nothing more than to run up to it, jump on whoever was visiting, and cover them in big slobbery dog kisses. But he always hung back just a little, knowing "Mom" would say, "Indy, go in your house". He'd wait patiently in the crate until either he'd calmed down enough to be let loose or the visitor was gone. He loved company--he barked when they came and he barked when they left. And, unexpectedly, he loved Punkin.
When we brought Punkin home as a puppy, we really expected Toby, our lab/golden mix to be her friend. Imagine our surprise when it was Indy who stepped to the plate. Despite 9 years difference in their ages, he'd play and romp with her as if he were just another puppy. And, despite his significant weight advantage, he never hurt her, even in their puppy fights. There were days she pestered him endlessly, and I'm sure he'd have liked to be done with her, but he was so tolerant of her puppy ways. It was a most common sight to see the two of them walking side by side up or down the hall, or lying side by side outside in the sunshine. If Indy was in his crate, Punkin laid right outside it, just waiting for him to come out and play some more. And, perhaps saddest of all, that is exactly where Punkin has chosen to lay this past 10 days. Right outside Indy's crate. She is keeping some sort of lonely vigil, waiting for him to reappear. We really don't know how to comfort her. We are trying to give her a lot of extra attention, but I don't have a lot of confidence that it's working.
I know we will become used to all this. Joe will get used to being able to eat his lunch without Indiana's head at his right elbow. I will become used to being able to get up from my chair without telling Indy to move. We will eventually see Punkin walking up or down the hall alone and not think something is missing. A hundred pound dog can take up a lot of space in a small house and eventually maybe we'll decide it's comfortable, not empty. But none of that is the case right now. We are so sad and we miss him so much. Tears, or cases of hard-swallowing to avoid tears, come upon us at the most unexpected times.
Some people would think we are making too much of this. After all, they would say, he was "only" a dog. "What would you do if a family member died?"they would say. Well, he WAS a family member and just as precious to us as any child could have been. He was as smart as many children and more loving. I guess some folks just will never understand. And then there are people you feel you hardly know who will cry with you on the phone, understanding completely and sharing your pain. Go figure........
So, now, my beloved Indy's ashes sit in a plastic container on my desk, along with a paw print and some of his fur. I'm so glad this much of him made it home. And there he is, my beautiful 100-pound baby.
