Okay, so I'm going to let you get your laughs out first thing. Because I'm just nice like that.
Yes. That is me. With my '80s glasses and bad hair. And, I must point out, half decent legs. I haven't had any of those in a while, so I just thought I'd make sure y'all noticed!
This, is my grasp, is Porky.
Porky was perfect. He truly was.
Even though when he and his brother were little, they ate my stick shift and emergency brake when I left them to go into Superstore.
They ate our fence. The vet told us to use tobasco sauce and it would stop them. So there I was, out there painting the fence in tobasco sauce. Turns out they loved it.
They chewed on our back step.
They ate the cord for their heat lamp.
This is another picture of Porky, on the '60s rug in our basement rental.
This was Porky's last year with us. We had moved out to the acreage, and I would walk him down into the trails. He loved it. You'll notice his hair is a little thin. We actually started having him shaved, because he would shed little tumbleweeds all over the house. He was so gray, it was cute. Unfortunately, we were discovering lumps and bumps on him these days. Initially diagnosed as fat pockets.
Soon after this, he got a large cyst on his right hip, and within a few months he could no longer use that leg. He would hobble around on three legs. When he laid down he would favour it and he always laid on his left side.
On October 31, 2002, we took our kids trick or treating. Little did they know that the very next day, their dog would be gone. We didn't think it would be right to tell them.
That night after the kids went to bed, I called him into the livingroom. He stood there at the front door, just looking at me. He knew he wasn't allowed on the carpet. I had to go and physically bring him in. When I told him to lay down, he turned and went back to the rug at the front door. So I went and got him again, and made him lay on the livingroom floor. And I just loved him, and cried.
What was I thinking, being so concerned with a darned carpet? I lost so much time when he could have been laying at my feet. I could have been petting him.
But I suppose, like a first child, he was my teacher.
He taught me that I was an idiot.
My snuggle with him that night was short lived. He soon got up and went back to the front door. He knew his place. But what kind of place is that?
The next morning I sent the kids off to school. I put my first-born dog into my car and drove him down to the trails he loved. And there he went for a three-legged hobble around the paths. I hated to rush him.
Then we got back into the car and drove into the city.
But first, we took a drive through McDonald's, and I bought him breakfast. He quite enjoyed his pancakes and sausage and hash browns.
And then we were off to the vet. I sat there with him. The man who was to collect his body came and went. No one rushed me. I asked to talk to the vet one more time. They kindly told me that they would then also charge me for the visit.
Isn't that nice?
I asked the vet if there was anything else we could do.
She told me very nicely that if we amputate or decide to let nature take it's course, then it would be for our benefit.
So we went into the back room. There was no way he was getting onto a table, so we had him lay on the floor on his blanket.
And I laid down beside him.
I wonder if he knew?
They put the needle in and he went to sleep.
And I just laid there and cried.
Kind of like I am now, as I write this.
We picked the kids up from school. And although we didn't say a thing, they just knew. We had made arrangements for them to see Porky, to say good-bye. So while we were on our way back into the city, they drew him pictures and wrote letters to him. I framed them and they sit on his shelf in the office. Cassie was only 5 and drew this picture.
Asia wrote him this letter. I think if you click on it, it should be clear enough to read.
When we got into the city, we went to a place called "Loving Pets". There, he agreed to hold off cremating Porky until the girls could come and see him.
It was amazing.
It was an actual funeral home for pets.
He directed us to a room. And there was my boy, up on a table, with his blanket and some flowers. There was soft music playing.
We stayed with him for a while. Again, no one rushed this heart broken family.
That night we picked a star that was shining bright, and decided it was Porky watching over us.
The next time I saw Porky, he was handed to me in a box. And then he was placed in an urn that my uncle so kindly made for him.
And can shatter it when we have to say good-bye.
June 17, 1993-November 1, 2002