It was a tough week, but I really, REALLY appreciate all the
e-mails, texts, calls, Facebook posts, etc. that everyone sent. Tough to read
in the moment, but days later they certainly reminded me how fortunate I am to
have all of you in my life.
Losing Bauer was unbelievably hard, but having to tell the
kids that night was tough on top of tough. It was after Ellie’s softball
practice and we went to In and Out Burger near the airport. The kids love to go
there, then to park across the street and watch the planes land and take off.
So after watching the planes for a while Steph and I broke the news. Ellie took
it hard. She asked a few questions, wanted to hug, then moved forward.
Since then she’s made sure to point out pictures of Bauer
that are around the house and say she misses him but also talks about what a
good dog he was. I think she does it more as a reassurance to Steph and I, rather
than for her.
In the days following Bauer’s passing I was still very conflicted.
Even though the night before was spent staying up with Bauer as he had a hard
time getting comfortable and a very hard time breathing; even though his back
legs trembled when he stood for any length of time, including trying to eat;
and even though the two back stairs had become nearly insurmountable for him, I
couldn’t help but wonder if I was robbing him of one more day of laying in the
sun. One more car ride. Or one more whatever he wanted.
I was hoping for some reassurance that I did the right
thing. Hoping it would come from somewhere, anywhere. And for me I ended up
getting it. It was Wednesday night while I slept. I dreamt there was a knock at
the door, and when I opened the door it was the front yard of my childhood
house, and Bauer was standing there. He looked at me, tongue sticking out,
little nub of a tail twitching, and then he took off running. He ran all around
the yard, and through the fields across the street that were lined with hay
bales (For those that don’t know where I grew up, my house was the only one
around, so my front yard was literally a field that every year was mowed and turned
into bales of hay, and across the road was a small pond.).
When I woke up the next morning the dream remained vivid,
and I actually kept it to myself for a few days. Enjoying my little corner of
time and space with Bauer. But it was after that morning that I felt better. I
felt like the Bauer in my dream was how Bauer should be remembered. As a
playful, fast-moving, friendly dog. And
why my childhood front yard? My dime store psychology told me that that yard and
field was the place and time in my life that I enjoyed the most. The time that
I had the most freedom to just run and play. So I’d like to think that’s where
Bauer is.
Since then I’ve still felt a sense of sadness when thinking
about Buddy Bauer, but not nearly the emotions that I had in those couple days
between Bauer dying and my dream.
So we move forward. My friend Blase pointed me to a great
quote, as Will Rogers put it "If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I
die I want to go where they went." And that is so, so true.
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