I’m sitting here in front of this page feeling two
things I haven’t felt in a long time. The first is true sadness. The second is
intimidation.
The
sadness is easy to understand. I can be at times an emotional guy. I cry during
sad scenes in movies- hell I cry during those medication commercials when they
list all the side effects.
The
intimidation is harder to define, but understandable. I want to write something
to honor you, to do you justice. To get right down to it, I want to make people
that never got the opportunity to meet you, to know you, understand why I’m so
sad.
*
One
of my earliest memories of you is opening the door for you to come in the
house. You trotted down the hall, head cocked sideways, doing your little
shuffle/dance on almost comically short legs. You looked at me as if to say; Hey newb, this is the part where you get me
a treat. Who was I to argue?
I
can also remember when you knocked Gretchen down a peg or two, deservedly so. A
dog 3 times your size, and 4 times your weight, no less. You didn’t take shit
from nobody. I had no choice but to respect that.
After
that day, I realized there was more to you than I initially recognized. At
first glance you were a curmudgeonous, food glutton who’s main accomplishments were
sleeping 18 hours a day and having an on again-off again affair with the pet
bed. But you were also ferociously loyal to those close to you, a fun-loving
goofball, who at times reminded me of a dog much younger than he.
Over
time began to see you as ageless. In fact, that’s why all of this is so
shocking. Deiter never gets sick, never takes ill. He has an iron stomach, and
a secret stash of youthfulness for which people would kill. Deiter is there- Every.
Damn. Morning. - to get his breakfast, doing that ridiculous little
shuffle/dance, with his head cocked sideways, still looking at me, reminding
me; Hey nothing has changed, this is the
routine and you and I are going to do this dance til the end of time- Now feed
me newb.
But
then this morning…you weren’t there. I didn’t wake up to the sound of your
persistent whine, or your paws-out-stretched-in-a-double-high-five-Dachshund-meerkat
stance. I woke up to the realization that we had lost you...
You
were your own individual, with your own loving personality. You may have been
an old man, but you weren’t the mean elderly dog that I had assumed you to be. You
may have started out as my “step-dog”, but you became my “Deiter-boy”, Deiter McDeiter”,
“Deiter Burriter”… Although, it took us awhile to really get know and trust each
other, I think our bond was stronger because it wasn’t an easy camaraderie at
first. I am proud to have known you. Even more proud to have earned the right
to call you my friend.
R.I.P.
buddy you will be missed.
