My First Husband

On August 15, 1999, I awoke in my mother's guest room. I was visiting from Charlottesville. I was in town to celebrate my grandfather's birthday with the annual family crab feast. It was the day after the celebration and I was due to return home. But I, for some reason, decided it was time to get a dog. It was the first thought I had when I awakened. I needed a friend, I guess. I was terribly lonely in Charlottesville. I didn't have many friends there yet. And a dog would cure those ails.

My mother and I went to the Annapolis SPCA and started walking through the corridors of dog kennels. I can't stand that place. It is so damn sad. I would have taken every single one of those dogs home if I could have.

As I made my way through the aisles, I stopped at the last kennel on the third aisle. My mother had already turned the corner and was making her way to the next set of kennels. But there, in that last kennel, was a brown and black terrier-type dog that was just sitting toward the front of the kennel with pleading eyes. His roommate was a pain in the ass, I could tell. He was a Dalmatian mix and he was doing leaps toward the kennel beside him, trying to get the attention of the cellmates next door. But not this guy. He was sitting at attention, almost, with his sweetest look, begging me to take a chance. I looked at his information card: "Bruno" was his name and highlighted in yellow, "cat chaser".

"Mom, what about this one?" She came back and laughed. She. LAUGHED! She didn't think I was serious. But I was. We took him out of the kennel and tried him on the leash. He was so malnourished, he couldn't walk on the pads of his feet directly. He was about 10 months old, they told me. He was a shepherd/terrier mix, and this was his second time in the big house. He had been adopted by a family once but they brought him back because he was chasing their cat. DUH. HE'S A DOG!!

That sold me. I'm not a big fan of cats, ya know. And this guy was cute - he had one terrier ear and one shepherd ear. They were big ones, too. He was just what I needed. But the Bruno had to go.

We fibbed a little on the application in order to take him that day. I didn't reveal that I lived in Charlottesville - I was going to be taking the dog across State lines ... I think the SPCA would have frowned upon that.

Off we were. On our new adventure. Just the two of us. And I was never happier. This new friend kept me so much company. But I was determined to NOT LET HIM SLEEP IN MY BED!! The first night I locked him in the kitchen. And he cried. So I let him out, but he was going to sleep on the floor next to my bed on the pillow. By the time my alarm went off we were lying next to each other on my bed ... his head on the pillow next to mine. And so it would be each night after that ... until, ...

I met a boy. And after I met a boy, we brought home this little bundle of joy. And then, after a while we brought home another little bundle of joy. And then, the worst case scenario of all worst case scenarios - we brought home a puppy. But Guinness was always there next to me. And when I say next to me, I mean literally next to me. And as he grew older, when I wasn't home but everyone else was, he would go upstairs and sleep away from everyone else until I was home again, and then he would come back down to be with the rest of us. Wherever I was, he was. Always. He was my best friend. He was the most loyal of all companions.

Saturday, March 31, 2012, was to be a big night. We were watching a basketball game with everyone over to celebrate what could be the Wildcats first trip to the Finals since 1998. And I don't know when and I don't know why, but for some reason, something went wrong for Guinness that night. He couldn't use his hind legs anymore. He was completely disoriented. And he was not himself. He was in another room instead of by my feet. He couldn't find the back door to go outside. He just wasn't himself. And as much as I wanted to wish that it was just maybe something that he had eaten, I knew deep down that it wasn't good, that it was probably "time", and that no matter how much I had prepared myself, I wasn't prepared for this.

When I awoke Sunday morning, he had moved from the bedside to the bathroom - I think he may have tried to get something to drink. I helped him move back into the bedroom onto the more comfortable floor, and then I lay there with him and pet him. And kissed him. And told him how much I love him. And told him that he was the best friend I ever had. And he lay there quietly, resting.

I took him to the emergency vets office in Annapolis around 7:30 Sunday morning. I didn't know what to expect - Guinness doesn't do well at the doctor's office and I didn't know anything about this place. But they were absolutely wonderful. And they helped me to make the right decision. And I was able to lay there with him and say good bye. And one of the last things I said to him as he started to fall asleep is that I wanted him to go chase all the squirrels he could chase. And any cat he saw, he needed to run, run, run!! I have little doubt in my mind that he is now doing just that.

I know he knows how much I love him. I hope he knows that no matter who - or what - came into our house, I always loved him most. He was, and is, my number one.