Vash

My Dearest Vash,

From the time I first met you, I've loved you deeply.  Before you we barely left the house.  But before we knew it we were going out for play dates and puppy playtime at the pet store. You were the apple of your adoptive mother's eye, bringing her joy and brightening our family with a light that will never fade though it shines no more.  That you loved her could not be denied.  You carried your burden with seldom a complaint, always eager and dutiful, bright-eyed and optimistic.  I will never forget being greeted every morning by a puppy who was so overjoyed to see me that he could hardly contain the emotion in his body so all of him wagged.  Your paws were so huge.  I had to start covering sensitive parts with my hands to keep you from punching me as you raised your paw in friendly welcome, though on the couple of occasions when I forgot and your "fist" connected, your mother laughed and you thought you had pleased me greatly - why else would I have bent over to give you access to lick my face?  We had such good times, I don't want to believe that they're over.

I made so many mistakes with you.  But you always loved me, and when I finally realized what I was doing wrong, you were still there, ever patient and willing to love me like it had never happened.  Thank you so much for not holding me accountable for the mistakes I made discovering how to be a good father.  Thank you so much for just being you.

Selfishly I had hoped that when the end came it would be sudden or inescapable, but life sometimes presents us with hard choices.  They wouldn't be hard if they were clear or inescapable.  No matter how necessary or merciful my decision was, I may never forgive myself for choosing to end your life.  What a wretched creature I am to believe that I have the wisdom to decide such things, and what a coward to wish against the responsibility of doing so anyway.  If you could have understood what was happening, not a shred of doubt resides within me that you would have loved me anyway and agreed cheerfully.  Perhaps it is an inadequate monument to my love for you, but the decision has set my heart and mind at war with one another.  Though I hate myself for it, I loved you too much to choose any other path.  But enough about me.

You were the most beautiful creature, at once elegant and fearsome, regal and rough. People used to cross the street to tell us how beautiful you were, and cross the street to stay out of our path.  I once had a random man walk up to me in the parking lot of a supermarket and offer me $500 for you.  No doubt he believed it was a king's ransom.  I didn't have the heart to tell him what we had paid for you.

You were on the news once.  A local animal ordinance was being hotly debated by the city council and a reporter thought you would make for a great clip so she stopped and asked me a bunch of questions, while they got some shots of you.

Your paws were so enormous that we thought you were going to be a giant, but you turned out to be the perfect size for your breed.

How much you loved playing tug-of-war with your rope, and catching full-sized soccer balls in your enormous jaw.  Your kill count for both of them had to be in the dozens.

Your bark was so resonant and fearsome, I once saw a man jump nearly two feet straight up in the air in reaction to it.  But you were such a gentle soul for your fearsome appearance - you never killed a single living thing.

You were there to greet each new addition to our family cheerfully and warmly.  You never complained or acted out as your adoptive parents' attention divided again and again and your portion of it diminished.  It took you the longest time to accept that not every new guest was a permanent resident - how hard you cried when they would leave at the end of their visit, and how jubilantly you recognized and welcomed them whenever they returned.

Once we heard you making an unusual and desperate whimper.  Our oldest son was just learning to walk and still leaning up against walls for stability.  You loved to lay in front of the sliding glass door, so when our son went to look out the window you were under foot.  When your mother came to investigate she found him standing on your testicles, and a look of shock and desperation on your face. "Get this kid off me!!!"  We couldn't believe your patience and long suffering.

You always used your senses and intuition for the betterment of the pack, howling at tornado sirens that weren't even audible to us.  When your adoptive mother was with child you were doubly vigilant and insisted on being by her side.

When you first came to stay with us, the snow was piled so high your mother had to dig a trench through the back yard just so you could do your business.  When the spring came and the ground began to thaw, I had a hard time getting you to even walk on the grass, and even when you did, you always sought out snow piles to do your business on.

You loved to play ball so much.  Once we went to the lake in early spring when the surface was still frozen over, and somehow your ball ended up out on the ice.  It was everything we could do to keep you from going after it.  You cried so desperately for it, that I eventually slid out onto the ice on my belly to get the ball back for you.

Your paws always smelled of freshly popped popcorn for some reason, so one of your many nicknames was "Popcorn Paws".

Your favorite place was always the bathtub.  I found you there so often that I used to call you "Tub Puppy".

When you were about a year old, we took you to Colorado with us.  How you loved it there.  Denver was such a dog-friendly town that we were invited everywhere.  I think your favorite was the leather goods store.

You were always so enthusiastic, sometimes to the point of silliness that I used to make up silly little songs while I rubbed your snout or scratched behind your ears.  Who is the foofer doodle dog? Vash is.

You most generous gift to us has been the memories which we will hold onto with all that is in us.  The hole in my heart is painful, but I wouldn't trade it for anything because it represents the privilege of having known you. You carried your burden with unwavering constancy. No one will ever carry it the way you did, and we will always wish we had more time with you, but rest easy, my friend, you burned so brightly and left this world a better place for having been here.

Goodbye, Puppers.