Some of you know that I recently had to put down my older dog, Marley, who has been my most faithful constant companion for almost 16 years. He would have celebrated that milestone next month actually. I will admit losing him has been heartbreaking. Yes, he had a wonderful life, and I was quite fortunate to have had him as long as I did. That is true, but still such a loss.
Marley was my third dog, although my family also had several dogs growing up. Right out of the gate, he was a handful. Dudley was just a year older so it was obvious from the start that Marley was a livewire, not the laidback dog his furry predecessor was.
He was always into something, a committed life-long trash tipper/looter. No trash can was safe; ask any member of my family who have had their own trash cans looted by that dog. Nothing like coming home to a disaster like that or getting in bed only to find a tuna can has been left under the sheets.
All I can say is thank God the dog didn't have opposable thumbs! Can you only imagine the crimes he would have been able to commit with just a tad more agility? Terrifying.
Possiby the worst was one year at Thangsiving. While we were all happily eating our amazing feast, he was in another room quietly sampling each of the pies my Aunt Marilyn, Arkansas' version of Martha Stewart, had brought. Not the entire pie, just the center of each one. When he made to the pecan pie, he decided that was his favorite and ate a sizable amount.
There were a whole lot of people not happy with Marley that day.
Despite his antics, he was mine and from the day we picked him up, I was the center of his universe. Always and forever. I mean quite literally all that dog ever wanted was to be by my side. He would quite literally follow me everywhere I went every day. In the almost 16 years he was with us, I could never close a door between he and I...ever. Very sweet in sentiment (who doesn't enjoy adoration) but in practice can be problematic.
For one, it's quite embarassing when I have company and attempt to close a bathroom door and he would simply sit at the door and bark until I safely reemerged. I just got used to zero privacy and constantly stepping around or over his 30-lb body.
Once when he was younger, I locked him in a bathroom during the Christmas holiday at my sister's house so we could all go play tennis and he wouldn't get into anything. I could see no other option. No way I could leave him out to pilfer and loot their entire house for hours without proper supervision.
We came home a few hours later and he was about 80% through the door. Yes, he had spent the whole time dismantling the bathroom door. Who knew a dog could even do that? My brother in law hated him for the remainder of his life because of that particular episode.
A few years ago, I went to visit Laura at college her senior year. Marley's clinginess has actually gotten much worse after his brother Dudley died suddenly at 10. So I was concerned with leaving him but again, decided to lock him in her room while we went to dinner to prevent him from looting the rest of the house. I did give him a Xanax before we left, as prescribed by his vet for his separation anxiety. A few of Laura's roommate's parents found it alarming I was medicating him for such a short time.
They didn't know the history. A few hours later, we got a call from one of those parents reporting that he was halfway through the drywall and making good progress, and perhaps we should return sooner than later. She commented that it was probably because he was thirsty. LOL. 😉
One year for work I had to travel to our global headquarters, which is in Paris. I was gone for a week but had neighbors come in at night and get Marley, walk and feed him and then let him stay overnight with them. He did fine, or so I assumed. My lovely neighbor upstairs asked if I had had any recent visitors. I said no, but she said while I was gone, she could hear what she said sounded like "an old lady moaning" for hours upon hours.
The Runaway
Oddly enough, despite being a true stage-5 clinger, as evidenced by the prior instances, he was also a runner. I've never had a dog that ran before. People who are not dog people: some dogs are for whatever reason predisposed to take off and run and not come back, aka "runners."
Growing up our dogs would just roam the neighborhood freely and eventually make their way back home when they were ready. So I was not prepared to deal with a dog that ran from me, especially one who seemed so fond of me.
Our house had a big yard with an invisible fence so for the most part, it wasn't an issue, but he was also very prey-motivated and our backyard backed up to woods so it was a veritable cornucopia of potential vermin victims.
He knew if he left the yard, he would get zapped by the fence. But those creatures, which included squirrels, birds, bunnies, and the worst, groundhogs, were so enticing. At least to Marley.
When one of these creatures was spotted and deemed worthy of the zap, Marley would run out in the yard and then quickly run multiple laps around my garden. That was the signal that he was about to escape. Picture a dog boomarang, shot-putting himself out of the yard. Often I would observe the wind-up and run outside in full screaming mode, "NOOOOOOOO, Marley!" Most of the time, however, he had already mentally committed to the escape so nothing would stop him. He would just run faster and faster and then aim straight toward that hill and yelp as he got zapped by the fence and then poof..he would be gone.
Once he was gone, he was gone for a while. I can't tell you the number of hours I gave chase up and over the berm that separated our subdivision from an industrial park with several businesses. Sometime I would even pursue in my car because he had serious wheels and I'm one of the slower humans on the planet.
One day he took off after one of the groundhogs and disappeared, once again, over the berm. I got in my car and parked in the park area and walk to each business to tell them, again, that I was missing my dog and if you see him, please grab him and call me. They had all heard this before.
I got to one of the businesses, which I swear was a meth cooking lab inpersonating as a mechanic. One of them came out, no teeth and wearing overalls with no shirt underneath (Imagine Deliverance but without the southern accent and you get the proper mental picture).
He comes out and gives me a big toothless grin, belly laughs and says, "That Marley...he's a real bad dog, ain't he?" I couldn't help but laugh. Marley was indeed a very bad dog. I am still laughing at his comment as I see my car with the driver side door still open and a very muddy BAD dog sitting in the passenger seat looking quite pleased with his bad self.
Yes, Marley was a bad dog. He was also the most loving, loyal dogs I have ever owned in my life so in many ways he was also the very best dog. Almost 16 years of being stalked by that big love leaves me very sad but also very grateful that I had him for as long as I did.
I hope he's somewhere chasing vermin and running free.
I'll probably get another dog at some point as I'm so used to having a pair. Bowie, for the most part, seems to be dealing well with being an only dog. Yes, there have been some forced hugging and crying sessions he would probably rather not be a part of but he's being compliant and dealing with the increased amount of affection from his sad mom.
He's a good boy but he'll never be the best worst dog.
Until next time,
Barb
