n o w p l a y i n g - s c r i p t b i n - f a n c l u b - s t u d i o

make love to the camera



September 07, 2003 - 3:34 pm

Barney

There was at least one thing my brothers and I had in common with our dad: We were all mint guys.

Well, more precisely, we were all fresh breath guys. Granted, it's not like a unique genetic trait exclusive only to our family, but it was true for us. You could always count on one of us to have something on had to do some breath freshening. For me, it's gum or Altoids. I understand that my brothers are in a Trident phase at the moment.

Up until his death, my dad was a lifelong Tic Tacs man. If you were sitting in a Dodge Caravan and you could spot several empty Tic Tac containers and a bag of cherry flavored pipe tobacco, you were riding with my dad. The Tic Tacs were a habit of his that eventually became one of his symbols, like a gag gift your friends might give you because they know you'd get a kick out of it.

On Tuesday, my mom had our 14 year old family dog, Barney, put to sleep.

He's been sick for months now. He didn't have anything specific or outright malicious. He was sick with old age. I remember when he was a puppy, and I could hold him in two cupped hands. For the last few months, this big dog that I used to be able to carry as easily as a baseball hadn't been able to lift himself up into a chair without help. He hadn't been able to jump up into my mom's lap or bed, where he's always slept with her.

His back legs were giving out. He didn't play as much as he used to, and he couldn't go much more than two or three feet before collapsing. He was also becoming incontinent, and during weekend phone calls, my mom often told me that she'd get up four or five times a night to let him out to try to use the bathroom.

It was rainy this last weekend in Chicago. Outside, at 3am, the rain coming down around them, my mother stood in our backyard, stooping to hold Barney's legs up so he could steady himself to go. After months and months of delay and putting it off, she decided that the dog would be better off if he wasn't suffering.

She came home after school Tuesday and spent her last few hours with Barney. She and my brother Barry played with him. My mom fed him liver sausage (a favorite of his) and chocolate, traditionally bad for dogs, but it didn't matter anymore. Barry and mom played one Barney's favorite games with him. He liked to wrestle with his "babies," a collection of stuffed animals he had grown to favor over the years. My mom sat with him, petted him, laid down with him on the bed and cuddled with him for what would be the last time.

When they were ready, my mom get out his leash. Barney, thinking he was going for a walk, wagged his tail, and made for the door as best he could. They tried to walk him down the block, but he couldn't make it more than a few steps at a time, and they lifted him into my mom's SUV and drove him the few blocks to the vet.

The vet knew they were coming, and my mom, Barry and Barney were brought to a back room where a comfortable blanket was laid out on a table. Barry and my mom petted Barney as the vet prepared, soothing him, talking to him, telling him that everything was going to be OK.

"Go find daddy, Barney...go find daddy," my mom whispered to him, referring to my dad, who Barney loved. They adminstered the injection, and Barney was gone.

My mom says that this week has been bad. Not nearly as bad as when my dad died, of course, but she's once again lost someone with whom she shared a bed. She's been crying, and she says sleeping alone again feels so strange.

A few days ago, as she was driving to work, she was looking through her pile of CD's for something to listen to on the way. At the bottom of the stack, she says she found something that made her feel better: A Tic Tac container, two little mints rattling around together inside.

She thinks Barney found my dad.

Last Time On FadeIn - Next Week's Show

i am one bad updater:

enter email to find out when i update. powered by notifylist.com