Learning to mourn my dog Mookie
January 24, 2011
Mookie, Jen, and Elizabeth - November, 1999
My dog Mookie was born November 14, 1997 and he died early January 21, 2011. In his life he brought joy to literally hundreds of people, but none more than me. I know its not a competition, but Mook and I were together pretty much 24/7 most of 365 days a year and to say we were close is an understatement somewhat akin to Noah saying, It looks like rain."
For some reason, when I think of the amount of time we spent together, I think what it must of been like, in simpler times, for farmers and their dogs. The dog would would go out to the field with the farmer as he cared for his crops and, maybe in the afternoon, the dog would run to the school and walk home with farmer's children. In the evening, the dog was part of the setting for the family.
I don't do something as honorable as a farmer, I'm a writer (although both professions are involved with manure). I work out of my home office, my field. In the morning, when the kids were young, he would join us as we walked the kids to school and then as they grew up, we would just go for a walk around the block. Throughout the day, Mookie would be be lying to my right as I wrote, awaiting that time of the day when we would walk to our town's commercial center, Coolidge Center, or even better if I would take a break for lunch and he could share.
Through the years, we met so many people; to be honest, I met them through Mook. Sometimes people would run after us to learn what kind of dog he was (Wheaton terrier), whether he was hypoallergenic (he was), and whether he was good with children (he loved them). Mookie was always responsive to attention and when he had a good haircut, which he almost always did (thanks to the folks at Toureen's), he was a chick magnet. So frequently, as we were walking, and a group of women were ahead of us, one invariably would say to another, "Isn't he cute?" They weren't referring to me.
For some reason, Japanese people really loved him. Many times he posed for pictures that are now being seen somewhere in Osaka. Many people took his picture, many people got Wheatons because of him or just got dogs because they loved the way he acted with us and how he loved to give me a high five.
He loved just about everyone, but especially kids. He came with us as we took Jen to pre-school (she turned 18 on January 20) and stood there, tail wagging, as kids pet, pawed, and pulled at him. He would pull us towards playgrounds when he heard children playing. He also loved climbing the steps of a slide and barreling down. It was a sight.
He liked most dogs as well. When he and Spencer, his Wheaton cousin, who lives down the block, saw each other, they always went nose-to-nose and wagged like crazy. They were indeed communicating (and probably making fun of whomever was on the other side of the leash). He really didn't like German Shepards. They were like Republicans to him, his initial instinct was to not like them, but would make some exceptions for individuals. He had no use for poodles, particularly the giant ones. Overall, he really seemed to be somewhat embarrassed by the yapping of toy dogs.
Like a farm dog, Mookie would have liked to work. He would have liked being a maitre'd. When he was in doggie play groups, Mookie was always the greeter when a new dog came to join, "Sniffing or no sniffing? Chaser or chasee?"
But if there was any dog Mook would have loved it would have been in real estate or interior design. When he was young, Mookie was like Steve McQueen in the Great Escape, even in the most secure of settings, he found a way to get out. His goal was not to run away, simply explore. I honestly can't tell you the number of times we found him on the third floor of someone's home or got a call that he was sitting in a neighbor's kitchen. He wasn't doing harm, just checking what places looked like.
Mookie recognized names of family and friends and would respond when we told him they were coming to visit (and certainly responded on their arrival). But his love for my wife and the girls could not be measured on any scale. He was beside himself in knowing that he could get bring smiles to our faces with his dashes when he was young. And he always knew if someone was sad, by her side he would stay. When Elizabeth was visiting prospective colleges, he was like a litmus test for her comfort level. People were welcoming to him at Wesleyan, where she attended, but cold at Brown, where she did not end up applying.
I'm older than dirt and Mook was my first dog. The loss of his unconditional love and support hurts so much. Mook was always by my side as I have recuperated from four or five knee operations. He was there for my elderly parents and as a certified care giver was able to visit nursing homes and rehab facilities, when they were there, and give comfort to others. He was with us when they died. He was the "other guy" in the house as he and I were surrounding by three female humans and two female cats. He was with us for every occasion, good and bad. He was a constant.
Over the last 12 months, he had aged and had major surgery. I treated every day as if it were his last and he died with the dignity and respect he deserved. He was a great doggie.
Everybody mourns differently. My beautiful wife Max has cried...a lot. Jen has been surrounded by her friends. Elizabeth, In New York City, has had to work and I'm sure has found comfort from her guy, Lucien. As for me, I learned that I needed to withdraw. No phone, no text, no email, no writing, not even eating foods he liked. Now, I'm trying to restructure my life and just as I learned to mourn him, I am working on learning to live without him.
That's what I'm learning today, January 24, 341 days left in 2011.