I have a very heavy heart.
We said goodbye to our Diesel today.
Pierre and knew that this day was coming, I just didn’t think it would be here so soon. Or maybe it’s just easier to deny what is right before your eyes when it is just so hard to accept. Over the past six months, we had watched our furry buddy deteriorate, until we were finally forced to recognize that quality of life was far more important than quantity. This morning, as I patted him, Diesel lay his head between his paws and looked at me with his big, sad, brown eyes. He was too broken to be fixed, and it was time to say goodbye. Our veterinarian was kind, Pierre and I were together, I held Diesel until the end, and it was very peaceful.
But now, even with the boys running chaos, the house feels empty.
Me and my bear, about five years ago. We both looked younger then.
Diesel was a great big bear of a dog. He was 100 pounds of solid Labrador retriever. We adopted him in April of 2008 from another family. They were giving him up to care for their child with Autism. We were the lucky family that got to take him home.
When he came to live with us, Diesel was a full-grown, five-year-old dog full of quirks. He had a deep fear of women with gray hair, brooms and vacuums. He barked at everything within 100 feet of the house, including squirrels and falling leaves. He disliked other dogs, and wasn’t all that fond of cats either. About a month after he came home, Diesel pulled me off my feet while going after the neighbor’s cat. I landed face-first on the pavement, and looked as though someone had taken a frying-pan to my nose. We still joke that poor Pierre got dirty looks for weeks. Diesel didn’t much like being alone in the house at night either. Maybe he was afraid of the dark. Once, while we were out of town, Diesel woke our neighbors at 3 a.m., barking to wake the dead. They came over to investigate, and discovered him on our bed. He had gotten up, but couldn’t get himself down, destroying a set of sheets in the process. Our neighbor spent the rest of the week sleeping on our couch, just to keep Diesy company.
Diesel loved shoes. He’d greet us at the door, whether we had been gone for hours or minutes with a shoe in his mouth. I was forever searching the house for shoes that were missing from their pair, but he only ever ate Pierre’s runners. I can’t tell you why. Maybe they just tasted better than mine or the boys. Everyone else’s socks were fair game however. I’ve never met a dog who thought that socks were as delicious as Diesel did. Apparently, plastic toys were delicious too. Like any lab, Diesel’s stomach was directly connected to his brain. He lived for eating. Visitors were obliged to give him treats. He’d lead the way to the pantry where his biscuits were kept. And he knew that Grandpa was a soft touch for scraps from the table. Bits of chocolate-chip cookies, dropped by the boys, were his favorite. And while I know that you aren’t supposed to give chocolate to a dog, today I gave Diesel a whole chocolate-chip cookie of his own.
For all his quirks, Diesel was a wonderful dog. He was goofy, and sweet, and I trusted him implicitly. Diesel loved the boys. They could do anything to him, including riding him like a horse, which they did often. He was their champion and protector. No one got past the driveway without Diesel letting me know. And Lord help anyone who knocked at the door. If Diesel didn’t know you, you weren’t getting past the threshold. He’d jump at the door, teeth bared, hair standing, growling and barking. He had his family to watch over, and was notorious in our neighborhood for scaring the pants off postmen, contractors and solicitors. But not children. Children loved Diesel. The hierarchy in our home, at least according to our dog, made him Pierre’s second-in-command. He was on alert until Pierre got home each evening. We were his pack. And he was ours. When Ben was diagnosed with allergies -including dogs- last year, there was no question of giving Diesel up. My vacuum worked overtime, but our pup stayed.
Watching over his boys.
Diesel was an outdoor dog, spending hours sitting on the deck in the sun, or digging holes as I planted flowers in their beds. We knew that Diesel’s end was near the first time that we went outside without him, and he didn’t bark to be taken along. He loved walks, and mud, and the creek in our backyard. And boy, did Diesel love the snow. He lived for playing in the snow. He would eat it, and roll in it, and disappear up to his big, old neck in it. He’d bark at the flakes falling from the sky, then try to catch snowballs with his teeth. I’ll think of Diesel when the snow falls this winter.
The snow-dog days of winter.
When I tell people that Diesel was a rescue, I often hear how wonderful it was that we saved him. What most people don’t know, is that Diesel saved me too.
After having Benjamin, I went through a severe bout of postpartum-anxiety. I was terrified that something would happen to my baby, that someone would try to take Benjamin from me. It was horrendous. The darkest months of my life. I checked locks on doors and windows incessantly. I couldn’t be alone in the house for long without the fear that someone would break-in. I had panic attacks if a stranger got to close to Benjamin in the grocery store. A knock at the door reduced me to tears and shakes, as I hid away in the nursery with my baby until the visitor went away, hoping they’d think no one was home. I was unable to sleep at night, for fear that my child wouldn’t be there in the morning. It was scary and debilitating, affecting my relationship with Pierre, and my ability to enjoy my time with Ben. I felt as though I was losing myself.
Finally, when Benjamin was six-months old, I had had enough. I went for counseling, I took medication, and we adopted Diesel. I couldn’t handle the time that a puppy would take, not with a new baby, so an adult dog seemed like a good solution. Another presence in the house, more company for me while I adjusted to being a stay-at-home mom. We found Diesel on Craigslist, and took him home. Never did I imagine that it would be one of the best decisions that Pierre and I would ever make. I got well, and Diesel was was at the heart of that process. He gave me peace of mind. He helped me to feel safe in my home. I stopped worrying as much, because I knew that Diesel would let me know – loudly - if there was something that I needed to worry about. He was my second set of eyes, and I was able to stop watching so hard, and just start living. Diesel was the best therapy that I could ever have asked for. He helped to give me back my life.
I’m very, very sad. I miss my Diesy-bear. So does Pierre. For the past six months, Pierre has carried Diesel up and down the stairs, since Diesy’s back-legs couldn’t navigate the steps on their own. That is unconditional love for a dog. Benjamin and Nicholas are learning that Diesy-bear isn’t coming home again. They’re asking questions, and we’re trying to answer them the best that we know how. It isn’t easy. A member of our family is gone, but Benjamin told me this afternoon that Diesel can see us, even if we can’t see him. It made my heart a little lighter.
Our vet said today that you have to feel sad for anyone who doesn’t understand how it feels to lose a pet. They’ve never experienced that kind of love. I agree, because for all the hurt that my family and I feel today, Diesel was worth it, and I’d love him all over again.
xo Naomi
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