My best pal wore out and needed to sleep the sleep without dreams last week. Gunnar Everett Baker, aka, the Binkie, was a sweet little toot with apparent Pomeranian and some Shi Tzu influences contributing to his otherwise mysterious muttness. The little guy was born with issues that soon became apparent. His eyesight was the first to go at less than a year old. He was able to see crude shapes and bright light until his later years, when he was so blind he would walk into doors. This made him very conservative in his navigation, but thanks to being raised by our Brittany, the Watson, and his sister Bella, the Aussie, he used their scent and sound trails to get around pretty darned well. His blindness sharpened his nose and ears, and he would often stop and cock his head to focus on the source of a sound such as my voice.
Then out of the blue one night came the epileptic seizures. The first grand mal left him dazed for a week. He went on phenobarbitol at about age two and was on it the rest of his nine years.
Despite these burdens, the Binkie was a sweet and loving little friend who would fix my position with his vacant eyes and wave his fluffy blond tail like a plume of pampas grass in joyful greeting. He was my shadow, curling up under my chair or between my legs on the recliner – one of his favorite spots.
I used to accuse the Binkie of having been a fruit bat in a previous life, as his passion for fruit and vegetables knew no restraints. He never denied it. While he absolutely adored broccoli and carrots, the foods that sent him into orbits of delight were tangerines and watermelon. He could be asleep in another room and when I started to peel a Satsuma, he would come skittering into the kitchen and stand with his front paws on my knee making little whining moans until he got a wedge. He also had an eerie sense of when I was about to cut up a watermelon; as soon as he heard the blade cut into the rind, he would go nuts with excitement. I never completed the experiment, but believe he could have eaten half his weight in watermelon if given the chance. It made me happy to be able to make him so happy.
He could be vocal. My wife, who sang professionally, could hit a high note and get all the dogs to “make the tiny O” with their lips and croon like coyotes. And if Gunnar thought there was a threat that needed challenging he would face in the general direction and bark fiercely, with his tail straight up and his back legs spread apart in full “Bring it on” posture. When we got home after being away for a few hours, he would be at the door wailing for it to open so he could be with his peeps again.
And he snored, gently, like an old man.
Dogs teach us many things about life, about ourselves. Gunnar taught me about bravery, and loyalty, about accepting one’s burdens and carrying on without fuss and about taking joy from one’s enthusiasms. He never worried about tomorrow; that was my job. And every time he walked into a door, fell into the pond, had a seizure or even just had an off day, I mourned a little for him and for myself, knowing a day would come when his life would end and mine would linger on without him in it.
That day came last week, when his body quit producing red blood cells. I never loved a dog so much as this little compromised pal who wanted nothing more than to be near me.
One last memory. At a previous house I built a small set of wooden steps that sat outside the pet door so the Binkie could get in an out. When we moved to Salem, we no longer needed the steps as the pet door opened right onto a deck. I had left the steps out on the lawn while we were moving in, and Binkie, encountering their familiar smell, ascended the steps and stood there at the top, trying to figure out why he could not smell and feel the pet door that should have been right there in front of his nose. I can still see him tottering at the top of those steps to no where, in the sunshine, out on the front lawn, trying to sort out the mystery of life.

The Binkie, with his sister Bella.

Bill,

My condolences, having just lost a great dog I know how hard it is.

Hang in there, hopefully we get a chance to see them again in the hereafter.

Jim

Bill, my heart breaks for you. My husband and I lost our darling setter Scarlet in August, only 9 years old....it just never gets any easier to go through this.

We've had 2 epileptic dogs and a nearly blind one too.

Kisses from your surviving dogs is the only medicine that helps.

Binkie and you were blessed to have each other. The real cost of having dogs is their passing.

Enjoy the memories!

Thanks all. It never gets easier, especially if you have one that you get especially close to.
A friend quoted Kipling today: "We give our hearts to a dog to tear." Absolutely true.

I'm very sorry to hear about your dog. They are often better than people.

Not the only one that Kipling wrote!:

She did not know that she was dead,
But, when the pang was o'er,
Sat down to wait her Master's tread
Upon the Golden Floor,

With ears full-cock and anxious eye
Impatiently resigned;
But ignorant that Paradise
Did not admit her kind.

Persons with Haloes, Harps, and Wings
Assembled and reproved;
Or talked to her of Heavenly things,
But Dinah never moved.

There was one step along the Stair
That led to Heaven's Gate;
And, till she heard it, her affair
Was--she explained--to wait.

And she explained with flattened ear,
Bared lip and milky tooth--
Storming against Ithuriel's Spear
That only proved her truth!

Sudden--far down the Bridge of Ghosts
That anxious spirits clomb--
She caught that step in all the hosts,
And knew that he had come.

She left them wondering what to do,
But not a doubt had she.
Swifter than her own squeal she flew
Across the Glassy Sea;

Flushing the Cherubs every where,
And skidding as she ran,
She refuged under Peter's Chair
And waited for her man.

. . . . . . .

There spoke a Spirit out of the press,
'Said:--"Have you any here
That saved a fool from drunkenness,
And a coward from his fear?

"That turned a soul from dark to day
When other help was vain;
That snatched it from Wanhope and made
A cur a man again?"

"Enter and look," said Peter then,
And set The Gate ajar.
"If know aught of women and men
I trow she is not far."

"Neither by virtue, speech nor art
Nor hope of grace to win;
But godless innocence of heart
That never heard of sin:

"Neither by beauty nor belief
Nor white example shown.
Something a wanton--more a thief--
But--most of all--mine own."

"Enter and look," said Peter then,
"And send you well to speed;
But, for all that I know of women and men
Your riddle is hard to read."

Then flew Dinah from under the Chair,
Into his arms she flew--
And licked his face from chin to hair
And Peter passed them through!
Rudyard Kipling

Peter

Thank you for that, Peter!

Damn tough loss. One of the down sides of being a pet owner.
Doesn't make it any easier though.

Bill,


Most sincere condolences for your loss. Very difficult to lose a member of the family and very dear friend.

Takes a while to remember the gift rather than the loss.

Bill my friend, I'm so very sorry.

Loads of sympathies, tough time.
Best wishes.

Best to you in your time of loss and sorrow.

Condolences to you. Will not fill the hollow spot, but sure sounds like you two enriched each others lives. That's something to be cherished.