October 13, 2014

  • big sable boy

    When I started this blog, Jupiter was three. I was a sophomore in high school, Zach was still in middle school, and Sam wasn't even ten years old. As young, growing boys, we couldn't have asked for a better soul to share our lives with us than that mutt. He was just the best.

    A few nights ago we had the opportunity to be together as a family and say goodbye. It was painful and we all cried, but it also had this sense of completion to it that provided some semblance of comfort. The whole process was handled wonderfully. I came home early last Friday to meet my dad, and we had the chance to take Jupiter to Governor's Bridge Park. Dad and Jup used to spend hours over there when he was younger, running and chasing birds and just being simple. Jupiter didn't have much left in him yesterday, but he limped his way around the path for a while before finally giving it up. We carried him back to the car and took him home, where he got to sit in his bed with the whole family around him. The vet came at 6:30, talked with us for a few minutes, and was endlessly patient. Jupiter was laying on his bed with his head in my dad's lap. The vet gave him a sedative and within five minutes he was sleeping, breathing lightly while we all had a hand on him. He was given the cocktail after the vet shaved a small portion of his front leg to find a vein, and within 30 seconds he quietly stopped breathing. We said our last goodbyes, helped the vet put him in a cadaver bag, and carried the old man out to the car. We'll get the ashes back in about a week.

    It's so easy to feel like you've lost a member of the family when you lose a pet, and in a way you actually do. I think for me it felt more like losing a friend. I've talked about this before on here, but I didn't have a lot of friends growing up. I was weird and antisocial, and this didn't exactly help me connect with people. When we first got Jupiter I hadn't even started high school. Middle school was an especially awful time for me - I was bullied and essentially had no close friends - and as silly as it may sound, getting a dog helped with that. It's all been said before, but a dog becomes someone you can trust to just be a dog - they don't care who you are or what you've done, they just want to give love and receive it in return. That was a time in my life where very few people accepted me like that, but our wonderful, kind mutt was one of them.

    After Jupiter passed on Friday, we sat around as a family and talked about the good times for a little while. My dad, Zach, Sam and I recalled when we went to go get him. The Bugtongs had gotten a puppy about a week prior - a German Shepherd/Chesapeake Bay Retriever mix named Amber, who was adorable and sweet, and my parents finally gave in to our pleadings and agreed to get one from the same litter. The four of us went there and looked at the puppies who were left, and my dad quickly fell for one they called Lambrick, who was stocky and all black. But Sam walked around a wood pile and saw Big Sable Boy, a brindle puppy with huge hazel eyes and paws that were comically large for his tiny frame. Big Sable Boy followed Sam around the wood pile and the decision was made on the spot. Not even 24 hours later, he was christened Jupiter and given a spot in our home.

    So many people have called Jup a gentle giant, and that's the perfect way to encompass his spirit. Those giant paws he had as a puppy never went away, but the rest of his body grew to meet their size. At his full adult size, Jupiter was over 115 pounds and on his hind legs stood almost six feet tall. He was, by all accounts, a really big dog. And yet he was the kindest, sweetest soul you could ever imagine. He never bit a person and even looked guilty when he occasionally snagged an unsuspecting bird in the backyard. He would lay down next to small children and let them tug his ears or his tail without a whimper of protest, and he was the best companion for three young boys who were slowly growing into men.

    That being said, he kept the home safe at night for many years, and he knew when my dad was away. There was one night in particular that I remember. Dad was in Jacksonville for a conference so it was just mom and the three of us at home. I turned off the TV around 2am to go to bed, and about 10 minutes later Jupiter sat bolt upright, ran to the back door, and gave a low, deep growl that sounded like he was ready to bite someone's head off. I grabbed a bat, flipped on the backyard lights, and saw the gate open and moving. For whatever reason, someone came in our yard that night, but Jupiter was on high alert and kept his family safe.

    I say all that to say this - letting a dog go is unbelievably hard. It was the right thing to do for our old man, and yet I think we all felt some hesitation at the end as we sat around him. But even with all the pain and sadness that came with letting him go, it was worth every bit because of the 13 years, 3 months and 22 days that came before. I got to share the formative years of my young adult life with such a kind and gentle soul, and for that I am forever grateful. Thanks for everything, pup. You were a good dog. The best.