Macky, Mowie, and Sunny

When I heard my co-worker tell me she had to put her 18 year old cat down, I immediately realized that I had missed the date of Romeo’s passing. 

To this day, I still miss that puppy.  It’s incredible how much an pet animal brother could mean to you. 

When I was living with Romeo, you knew you couldn’t laugh in front of him.  For whatever insane reason, he would get upset — maybe it was the high pitch of our laughter that annoyed him, or maybe it was just the fact that our attention wasn’t on him.  We’d hold in the laughter, or even the general chatter, because we’d know it would get to Romeo.

Till this day when I’m home, I still catch myself just before I laugh as to not upset Romeo, and to not bring upon his insane barking and craziness.  Fortunately (I’d still give anything, though, to have him back), those past frustrations that I couldn’t even laugh in my own house have passed — instead, after I realize I just caught myself holding back laughter, I begin to smile because of Romeo. 

I guess, in a way, that was his mark left on the world for us — sure, it annoyed you at the time, but looking back upon it, it’s quite hysterical.  But that was what Romeo was all about — he didn’t know any better, and because of that, he made life so much more enjoyable.  I mean, what other dog gets jealous when you’re not giving him attention and proceeds to bark your head off? 

But, it’s crazy that Romeo has been gone for a year — it seems like just yesterday, too. 

I still walk into my parent’s house expecting a 100 pound dog to come charging at me.  I know it won’t come, but it’s such a strong automatic reaction.  I feel almost let down that it doesn’t happen, anymore, too.  When Romeo would come charging, he had no idea how crazy excited he got to see us — he couldn’t control himself.  He’d jump, and back, jump, and back — then proceed to wipe his wet mouth on your hand or the side of your pants until you would take the time to really pet him. 

I miss that crazy puppy. 

My only regret was that I was not in the process of putting him down.  I wish we had his ashes as to actually be able to keep a part of him.  I didn’t know any better at the time, but I wish I did. 

Then again, Macky would probably want to play in the ashes as if it was his litter box.

I found three four more pictures on my hard drive of Romeo. I remember always taking pictures of Romeo, but where have they all gone? Regardless, as I find them, I will certainly post them all.

Thank you to everyone who posted a comment, or two, in the previous entry. You don’t know how nice it was to come home from work to find several comments about Romeo. It makes the healing go a bit smoother.

Thank you, Romeo, for all the wonderful memories you have given our family. You were an incredible best friend to all of us. I’ll miss you dearly, and you’ll continually be in my thoughts.

It seems like just yesterday we were in the dentist’s office when we found out about you. The next day, I believe, we made the trip over to your birth place. You were the first puppy I laid eyes on; the cutest one in the bunch. You had such unique colors, with a broad chest of white.

We brought you home in a random towel. You were such a mush; scared from being taken from your home, but still curious about where you were going. The first few nights all you would do is bark and howl. We thought you were home sick and missed your momma. Little did we know then that the howling was just the tip of the iceberg of your cookiness.

The next several weeks you began to love us more and more. I can still remember laughing when you couldn’t climb down our steps. You’d cry and cry until one of us brought you down in our arms. Then you’d wobble up the stairs with your tail wagging as if you had no idea five seconds ago you were just crying.

For the longest time we had to carry you outside to let you do your business. Can you imagine that I used to love just bringing you outside to let you go poop? Strange, I know, but you were the cutest little thing. When it was dark out, you used to blend in with the shrubs and the grass. You used to make me so nervous, you don’t know how many times I thought I had lost you out there.

As we each got older, you never changed your love for any one of us. You’re ways of greeting us when we walked in the door has always been inspiring. I never knew of a best friend that was so happy when we came home. I’ll miss that happy greeting puppy. You don’t know how happy, each time, that made me. I know, I know, I always told you to stop jumping and the like when greeting me, but come on, you were bigger than I was.

You were such an amazing best friend to me, to all of us. Thank you for all the memories, for all the laughs, for all the fun times.

I cannot believe over ten years have come and gone.  Even the other night, although you weren’t feeling good, you made me feel so special.  You lifted your head up with all your energy just to greet me, just to say hello.  It was so hard for me to hold back the tears.  I knew you couldn’t bark, but I could still hear you barking away as I walked in the room.  For that brief second or two, your eyes, once again, lit up.  You seemed so happy to see me.  I was so happy to see you.  You are such an incredible best friend.

As I drove home last night, I thought of all of our memories together.  It was so hard driving home, even harder trying to sleep that night.  I felt so bad for you, for your suffering and discomfort.  And as today went on and mom thought you were doing better, thinking of you possibly passing soon became a bit easier.  Mom took you for your daily long walk, you ate well, you drank well.  You even followed her around for most of the day.  You gave today for her, and I thank you for that.  I think we all needed to see that puppy in you for one more day.  I know in my heart that you did that for all of us.  You’ve always been so good keeping us smiling and laughing.  Even today you kept us smiling.

I’ll miss you so much.