Losing your best friend

I'll never forget January 31st, 2018 for a very long time. Actually, I might even go so far as to say it was one of the worst days of my life so far. It was on January 31st that we had to make the horrible decision to put down our beloved dog Bentley, and although it was the compassionate thing to do, it certainly didn’t make it any easier. The grief and sadness hit me like a truck and, even though months have passed, I still think about her every day.

Growing up, I never had a dog. No one was ever home at our place and it wouldn’t have been fair to keep an animal there, but I always wanted a dog and knew that I would get one as soon as my living arrangements permitted. One thing I knew with 100% certainty was that I was definitely going to have one when I got a place of my own. Though, if you had told me that the first dog I’d ever own would be a former breeding dog that was well into her senior years then I probably wouldn't have believed you. As it turns out, bringing this eight-year-old Boston Terrier into our home was one of the best things that ever happened to me. Not only did she add sunshine into our world, she taught us a whole lot about responsibility, unconditional love, and caring for something other than yourself.

Bentley was a retired breeding dog, a Boston Terrier that was unlike any other that you’ve probably seen or heard about. The life she had before coming into our home shattered her confidence and left her with a lack of life experience that was completely unfair to how special she truly was. Coming into our home may as well have been moving to Mars because her life underwent a complete 180. When we first brought Bentley home in November of 2014, she was terrified of anything and everything — an expected result of likely ignored for the first eight years of your life. I remember her first days laying on a red pillow in my kitchen, a spot she never left for the first few days we had her. She was utterly terrified of being around people and that fear kept her frozen on that pillow like a statue.

I’ll admit that, at first, I was worried that Bentley would never be interested in forming a relationship with us but that was before I discovered the resilience of this special girl. She really didn’t want to be anywhere near us for the first week or so, she was scared of us and her new surroundings, but we knew we had to be patient and give her the space she needed to feel comfortable. I couldn’t imagine what life for her was like before arriving at our home, but when we got her she was underweight and deeply dehydrated, her nose scaley and dry. It was difficult to even look at her like that but it also gave us an opportunity to care for her and even to teach this old dog some new tricks. Nothing showed what her previous life was like more than her amazement with the new aspects of what would become her everyday life. Even the smallest moment was new to her and I’ll never forget the way she was mesmerized by the TV (later we would watch a lot of hockey games and Netflix together). She would sit and stare at the screen with her head tilting with curiosity, occasionally peeking back in our direction to make sure that we hadn’t gotten any closer when her attention was elsewhere.

After about a week or so, Bentley started feeling brave enough get within a few feet of wherever we would hanging out and just stare at us, almost like she was vetting us to make sure we were cool. Despite the extended looks, she would never come close enough to let us touch her, but kept her gaze fixated on us until we either looked back at her or until we moved somewhere else in the house. Clearly, her interactions with people must have been limited because she would get scared to the point of trembling if anyone got too close to her, a heartbreaking site for what is normally a caring and trusting breed. Because of that fear, when she first let me pat her on the back without running away, it felt like one of the greatest accomplishments of my life. It felt like she was finally starting to trust me, and that's a feeling I cherish even months later.

But before we even got to the point of being able to pet her, we needed to earn her trust which came as a result of teaching her things that many dog owners take for granted. Since she had been seemingly neglected or taught next to nothing, Bentley was eight years old and didn’t know how to do simple things like using the stairs going up or down. She would stand on either end of them and stare up or down, almost wondering what the hell she was looking at. For weeks, we had to carry her outside after she jumped from the top stair down to the entryway of our house. Fortunately, she escaped uninjured but that moment taught us that we had to slow down. Learning the stairs took weeks of me putting her harness on, putting my finger through the straps and slowly guiding her up and down the stairs one step at a time before she finally figured it out.

Amazingly enough, running up and down the stairs ended up being one of her favourite things to do once she figured out how they worked. In addition to being well behind in terms of practical skills, I don’t think Bentley was ever given toys in her life because she didn’t ever have any interest in them nor could she ever really grasp how to use them. We bought plenty of different options but she never did learn to play with toys, ignoring every option we brought home regardless of its size, shape, or type. So when she figured out how to master the stairs, that turned into her outlet for burning off excited energy and keeping herself occupied. Eventually, when we got home from work, Bentley would get so fired up that she would run up and down the stairs until she was wiped but she it seemed like the happiest time of her life so we never stopped her from doing it. I would crack up laughing any time I watched her run up and down those damned stairs, finishing each round with spins and plenty of excitement.

As we spent more time together, our bond grew stronger and we found plenty of common interests with all kinds of random activities. Like any dog, she loved walks, getting treats, and going to the park on nice days but there were also so many other things that made Bentley tick. Two of my personal hobbies are playing the guitar (poorly) and the piano (even worse) and Bentley was always there to provide me with an engaged audience regardless of how bad I was. She would sit on her cheetah print bed (she picked that out by herself, I should add. It was literally the only one she would sit on at the pet store) and watch me play for as long as I’d have an instrument in my hands. Good, bad, she didn't care. She loved music and I would often find her sitting near our record player when something was playing and fall asleep, waking only when it was time to flip the record.

Despite not being a “normal” dog by what most people expect, Bentley had an amazing personality with the condition being that you had to earn the right to see it. She wasn’t a dog that would instantly head over to strangers and look for attention, in fact, she was more likely to run the other way than let you get anywhere near her. If you offered her a treat she would never take it from you, not unless she trusted you. She wouldn’t eat from our hands for probably a month or more and she would never accept food from someone she didn’t trust completely. So the idea that she would eventually follow us around like a perfect little shadow was a really special experience for us. It took a lot of time and patience, but eventually, she warmed up to us and we made a best friend. From where we started to where we ended up was a miracle. It showed that we had earned her love and that we were her people now. That’s something I won’t ever forget.

Unfortunately, the final chapters of Bentley's story started shortly after she arrived at our home, though we wouldn’t know how long it would take to play out. On her first vet trip with us, we learned that she had developed a significant heart murmur and that it would likely progress over time. The poor girl had to have most of her teeth removed because they were badly broken and infected from her past life and we were told that those infections wound up in her bloodstream and eventually contributed to her heart disease. Unfortunately, her heart issues kept progressing until we noticed drastic changes in her breathing patterns. We got her an EKG, ultrasound, several X-rays, and anything else the vet recommended until we confirmed the problem. She was diagnosed with congestive heart failure with valves leaking on both sides of her heart. We put her on the prescribed meds and gave them to her religiously but after a few months, she stopped responding to her medication and her health started to turn. After doing every test we could and draining every account we have, the choice, although insanely difficult, became clearer by the day.

Our vet told us that anything else we could try would only prolong her life, but would not necessarily improve the quality of it. In fact, she would have had to spend the rest of her days having her lungs and abdomen drained of fluids and would live the rest of her days in pain. That’s not the life we wanted for our special girl. She deserved better than that and to live the rest of her life in anguish was something that we were not going to allow. It would have been cruel and it would have been selfish. Even so, the decision to put her down was extremely difficult for us, and a lot of tears were shed, but we know that it was ultimately the right call to make. The reality is that the advancement of Bentley’s congestive heart failure was ravaging her quality of life, had started depleting her muscles, and it had turned my beautiful, silly girl into a shell of herself. We hated it, but it was time.

Before having animals of my own, I never really understood the grief and sadness that comes with losing a pet, but I’m feeling all of it right now. It hits you like a truck and it’s only been a few hours — I don’t know if or when I’ll fully get over it. As the days go on, I know the heartache will subside but for now the quiet in my home is a constant reminder of the special animal that we’ve lost and that’s tough for me to handle. There are no more little footprints and no more willing helper in the kitchen. Tonight, when I go to bed, I know that Bentley won’t be there to lay between my legs anymore and it will take time before I get used to that again. I know there will be nights where I will wake up looking for her only to find the empty space where she used to be. I know that we have some tough days ahead as we try to process our loss, but I can take comfort in knowing that she’s no longer in pain.

In the end, we spent our last days together snoozing on the couch, cuddling, going for car rides, and feeding her as many of her favourite foods as she could ever want. We did everything we could to make her as comfortable as possible and to try and enjoy every second we had left. I think the hardest part was trying to stay calm around her as to not add any more stress to her heart that was now struggling to keep her going. When it was finally time to go, she went peacefully on that same red pillow and holding hands with both of her people. She looked us both in the eyes until she gently fell off into sleep. While we’re both overwhelmed with grief and sadness at the loss of our best friend, we know that it was the right decision to make and that it was time to say goodbye. For her, we had to be strong. We had to be compassionate.

Saying goodbye to my best friend was one of the hardest things I've had to do in my life but I know in my heart that it was the right decision to make. For as sad as I still am over three months later, I wouldn't have been able to live with myself had I let her suffer and wither away before my eyes. Even so, I still wonder what might have happened had I just been able to drain one more account or take on some extra hours at a second job. But then, I remember what the vet told us about prolonging her life but not improving the quality and I feel at peace with our decision, knowing that she's no longer hurting. Even so, I don't know if I will ever totally move on or if the pain will ever truly subside, but I'm grateful for it because it keeps her memory alive. While I may not have had Bentley for all that long in the grand scheme of things, her impact on me will certainly last until I see her again.

A letter to my friend:

Bentley,

I was only lucky enough to have you in my life for a little over three years, but it was more than enough time to leave a mark that will last a lifetime. I don’t know how long it will take before life starts feeling normal again, but we’ll take it day by day. One thing I know for sure is that I will cherish the memories and moments we spent together and that your love brought so much happiness into our home. Fortunately, we live in an age where pictures and video are easy so I still have plenty of those moments look back on and I plan to do exactly that. I don’t think I could ever put the words together to say how much I loved you, but I know that you felt it. I’m going to miss our concert time, car rides, feeding time, and the way you would hide behind me if ever you got scared. Frankly, the list of things I’ll miss about you could go on forever so I’ll end by saying that you were the best girl and I was blessed to have you in my life.

Thank you for the laughs, the memories, and for letting us care for you.

Goodbye, my girl. I love you and I’ll miss you forever.

THANK YOU

I know this is my first post on Steemit so I wanted to do something to make it a memorable one. With that in mind, I will donate anything earned from this post to the local animal shelter in my city and, of course, will be happy to post pictures and updates for full transparency. I want Bentley's memory to live on and to get her story in front of as many eyeballs as possible, and, most importantly, to try and make a difference to other animals that need help. Thank you.