Today would have been Mr B’s 13th birthday.
I miss him terribly. I think about him every day. To say those things doesn’t even begin to touch upon how I feel. Sitting here writing this the tears are starting to burn and he’s been gone almost two years.
He came into my life when I wasn’t specifically looking for a dog; I had no experience with either a senior dog or a deaf dog. Surrendered to the shelter because he was ‘too difficult to care for’ he was by far the easiest dog I’ve ever had. After bringing him home there was no adjustment period for anyone, it was like he’d always been a part of the family. He loved his family, both human and dog, walks and car rides, cheeseburgers and fries…all with equal Big B enthusiasm. Every afternoon he’d wander off to either my bedroom or the deck room for a long nap. Waking up he’d discover he was alone and bark: a single, deep, large dog woof! Every day that made me smile and it was a very long time before I stopped expecting to hear that.
The most important thing I learned from Mr B was to make time for the dogs. I take pictures and more videos now, even if it’s nothing out of the ordinary. The housework and laundry will always be there; the tv show can wait. So when Teddy wants to go outside yet again, when Doodle does her wiggle dance for some scratches I do stop and take the time, make those things happen: The only thing wrong with dogs is that they can’t live forever.
Mr B outlived the time he was given when first diagnosed but of course it’s never enough. Even with arthritis, a quickly growing brain tumor, and finally respiratory distress he didn’t complain, didn’t ask for anything. In the world of dogs he was a gentleman; to me he was an incredibly special gift.