This Dog was a Jerk

But he was our jerk. Our cute, loving, man-eating jerk.

He didn’t like other people. He didn’t get along with other dogs. He had food aggression. He and his brother constantly fought. He wouldn’t keep on up walks, he kept his own pace, stopping to sniff and pee on everything. He wouldn’t cuddle any more in his old age, just sit across the room from us, wherever we were. He would tear this house apart, from end to end, in the pursuit of a fly. I’m pretty sure his life long dream was to eat a skateboarder.

He even bit the neighbor.

But he loved his food. Treats were like gold.

Any toy with a squeaker a conquest to silence that squeal from within. We still have a bin full the remains of his conquests. We’d buy him the strongest toys we could find and he’d have the squeaker out before we knew it. Even now, after he’s gone, I’m waiting to clean up the remains of his last toy so that I can take it in a bit longer. Relish the high pitched screams of the poor lobster who was sacrificed for the happiness of this pooch.

He was adorable. Our typical routine was to feed him and then finish up making our dinner. After he would finish his dinner he’d save his cookie so that he could eat it while we ate.

Protecting our house against the mailman was his self anointed duty. He knew what time of day it was. He’d growl as the mailman walked up. Watching dutifully through the window. He knew that he could also watch the mailman deliver next door. He’d watch carefully, constantly growling to fend off the evil package delivery. He’d also calmly wait for the return trip, on the far side of the street, to growl once more. Just to be sure. He always won that fight. The mailman would try, but every day be driven back away.

We knew this day was coming. Bear had been slowing down for a while. He was slow to stand up. He was always running hot. Drinking a lot. Sometimes his back legs couldn’t keep up with the rest of him. We knew it was getting bad when he’d refuse walks. But his personality never seemed to waver. He was our Bear.

Finally yesterday he had trouble getting up in the morning. Later in the day he just stopped, gave us a really sad look, and laid down. We knew it was time. We took him to the vet to find out that the immediate problem was a fluid build-up around his heart. Making it hard to get the necessary blood around his system. His breathing was now labored. He was not happy. He didn’t much like to cuddle but he’d been lying down, resting his head on my wife’s lap. A normally feisty dog was accepting of the doctors being in the room and taking him away to do tests.

We came home alone.

I think Bear was happy to be an only dog after his brother died. They constantly fought. Bear’s obsession with toys and food meant he was always hoarding. His brother would always be growling at him while my wife and I were around because he wanted to be the one between us. I want to think that he and his brother are back together now. Having fun. Hunting squirrels and pigeons.

But they’re probably fighting with each other over something…

I’m gonna miss that little shit. ❤️

Tagged as: bear dog dogs