Wednesday morning was the last time I kissed my sweet dog good bye. He was fifteen, his body was failing, and he had stopped eating. My mom and dad took him to the vet where he got to sit with them on a nice couch as he fell asleep one last time.
I'm glad that he got to sit on that couch with them. In his puppydom he had been quite spoiled when it came to couches. He was small enough to fit on our laps and on our chests so naturally we would hold him while we watched tv or took a nap. He was a member of our family, and as a member he preferred to sit where the people sat because, well, he saw himself equal to his human sisters and parents. As he got bigger and out grew our laps, and got significantly more aloof, he preferred couch time on his own. I cannot count the number of times I found him on the sofa, wedged between my books and my computer in college. There are many photos of him caught in the act, eyes wide and shoulders tense as he realized that he would soon have to give up his warmed spot. It is fitting that the last place he laid his head was on one of those coveted seats between the two people he loved the most.
He was a loyal dog, though he fancied himself a human at times. Well, most of the time. He was as sharp as a tack and keenly observant. Much like my father, he was very well in tune with those around him. He knew when something was wrong, if you were sick he would come lean against the couch while you slept on it. If you were sad he was quiet and would lay at your feet without a whimper or a groan. It was as if he wanted to share your burden and the best way he could would be to share your presence. His expressions rivaled that of a man's. You can tell when he was tired, when he was scared, when he was being bratty, and when he was casting judgement on you. Which he did, lovingly, with his big brown eyes and whispy eye brows.
To say he was opinionated would be an understatement. If he didn't like you, trust me, you knew it. He had a thing for blondes, which was very male of him. He hated fireworks and one year when my oldest friend was over he sat down, rested his head on her leg and closed his eyes. She is by far, the blondest (hair color wise) and most beautiful person I know. He liked her and I don't blame him, she's a wonderful lady. He had good taste in women.
He had good taste in people in general. His observations went beyond our family members. He knew the difference between a real personality and a perception. If he knew you, if he could see you, no matter how strange you were, you would eventually win his trust. And he would entrust you with our care. But if he couldn't see you behind the veneer you caked on yourself you were out of luck. Tucker saw people for who they were. No matter how hard you tried to pretty yourself, he would sniff you out.
Tucker was our buddy. He knew our secrets, he knew our faults, he saw our mistakes when no one else did. And he loved us still. I know now that what I learned about love came first through the teaching of my family. And just like God used my family to teach me love he named my dog a tutor in that area as well. He was steadfast in his love for us, it didn't matter that we left him alone during the day, or we got frustrated with him, or that we didn't understand him sometimes. He loved us. Just as God loves us, though we leave him alone, though we get frustrated at him, though we simply do not understand him sometimes. He is steadfast where we are not. He is faithful.
Tucker was a faithful pet, a faithful friend. We loved him dearly and we will always have love in our hearts for him. We will miss the jingle of his collar, the tapping of his toenails, the feel and smell of his fur. We will miss his clear, sharp bark, his wet nose, the brush of his tail. We will miss the companionship, the secret keeper, the family herder. We will miss him, he squirmed his way into our hearts one cold winter morning and I firmly believe that he will never squirm his way out.
Good bye sweet pup. Thank you for everything.
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