Normally when I write I try to make people laugh. I throw alliteration and hyperbole around like salt and pepper and try not to be bland or boring. I aim to entertain.
Today’s post is not going to be funny, or entertaining. At some point in the near future I am going to write a post about a new puppy which, trust me, will be hilarious. But before I can write about the puppy, I have to write about a dog.
When Boyfriend first took me home to meet his family I was only worried about gaining the approval of one of them: no, not his mother, but his dog. I was fairly confident that I could probably persuade humans to like me, and I was even more confident that Boyfriend wouldn’t care what his relations thought anyway. But had his dog decided he was not a Gemma fan, or worse, had I not instantly fallen in love with the dog, I honestly do not think I would be writing this post. Boyfriend would have found another girlfriend (or just spent a lot more time on his Xbox) and the last three years of my life would have been so much worse for lack of the two of them. Normally my love for animals means that animals like me too, so I wouldn’t have worried had this been an ordinary dog. But Oscar was described as being so massive that he was more of a horse than a dog, and, more importantly, as being the sole owner of Boyfriend’s heart. In other words this dog was, literally, bigger than me, and if Oscar and I were in a burning building and Boyfriend could only save one of us, it was likely that I would not live long enough to be offended. So I was scared.
I needn’t have been. I should just have been so grateful that Boyfriend was willing to share him with me. I know that everyone thinks that their dog is the best dog in the world, but this could have been easily remedied had more people met Oscar.
Opening Boyfriend’s front door would always be closely followed by Oscar smiling madly, wagging his tail so hard his whole body wiggled, standing on his back legs, putting his front paws around my neck and giving me the closest thing to a bear hug that I ever hope to experience. Leaving would always involve Oscar looking mournfully up at me; big brown eyes trying to convince me to stay and rub his tummy some more. He was sleepy when you were sleepy, playful when you were playful, constantly hungry and always, always happy.
A few weeks ago, just after his 6th birthday, he was poisoned by leptospirosis, his kidneys failed, and he had to be put down. It does not feel like losing a pet; it feels like losing your best friend.
My next post will be about the beautiful bundle of fluff who succeeds him, but for now, one last thank you to the dog who made me change my mind about being a cat person.
For all the smiles, hugs, and tail wags; for the long walks, games of hide and seek, tug of war, and ‘respect’; for being the funny looking puppy, the wolf, and the bear; for never ignoring “treat” or “squirrel”; for the leftover food eaten; for being everyone’s best friend; for always being more excited to see me than Rhys was; for being the happiest, friendliest, greatest dog in the world…
You were so loved and we are going to miss you forever.
Rest in peace, puppy.