I really did enjoy hearing the old tales (no pun intended) like the time Jack brought me along for the ride to get donuts, and while he was in grabbing coffees, I tore through two bags of sugar covered, fat fried dough. I would have laughed when I heard the young woman saying, "How cute. There's a dog in that car with a bag on his head." but I had a jelly donut between my jaws. His car was a virtual crime scene littered with toasted coconut and chocolate sprinkles spattered all over the place. If I had more time (and opposable digits), I would have scrawled "Dog Shelter Skelter" on the windshield with rasberry jam. That would have been legendary.
No, I'm ready. I've chased tennis balls up and down Florence street for a good 14 years and my legs simply no longer support my ambition. I no longer see very well and to quote Deb's mother, I'm now "deaf as a haddock. "This latter issue may be due to my advanced years or the consistent exposure to the loud music Jack plays around the house. I don't know what a Bono is, but it sounds irritating.
I know they'll all miss me. My brother Zachary and My sister Vanessa have been nothing but kind to me and never restricted me from hanging with their friends even when they were going through their really smelly teen years. I haven't like all of their friends and thought that they should of smelled their bums a little more closely, but I guess they were all okay in their own way. I guess I've always felt that it was partly my responsibility to see them though their childhood years. Now that they've grown I can rest and watch from afar.
Deborah, the woman and leader of the pack is going to be the toughest one to say farewell to. It was she that rescued me from the pound despite the worker who called me "Skittish" and suggested another from my litter. She thought I was smarter than the rest because I ate while the rest rested. The truth is, I was simply hungry. Timing in life is everything, so you should grab the kibble while you can. She's been my companion and the love of my life, and I hers as documented by song. A song repeated by her for these 98 years.
I've given her my love and tried to repay her in little ways, like the time I bit Jack's finger when he was feeding me. I had no need to nip, but thought I could do a little light damage and stop the hideous guitar playing, thus offering my true mother some much needed peace. It was worth the scolding to not have to hear what the neighborhood refers to as "The Never Ending Medley."
I hope Florence Street stays true to its current form, thus despite the flood of new dogs. I've guarded the children for many years and did my part to keep the place clean, especially during the block parties and Soupahs. The place would be a disaster if I had not been there to cean up the dropped hot dogs, cakes, burgers, and half filled cups of soup and keg beer.
Long before I heard the men talking about the book, "The Art of Racing in the Rain", Tim would refer to me as a "bodhisattva" which is anyone who, motivated by great compassion, has generated bodhicitta which is a spontaneous wish to attain Buddahood for the benefit of all sentient beings. Like most times, I hadn't a clue what he was speaking about, but it sounded good and noble and it made my tail wag.
Life is an interesting thing and I suppose so is what people regard as the end. Even though Jack and Deb treated me like one of the family, 98 years is a long time to be a dog and I have no regrets. That is except the times I was in the room during their mating ritual, and even those moments weren't too long to be that annoying.
Peace,
Bean, a.k.a, Browndog, a.k.a, Beandog, a.k.a, Blockdog, a.k.a, Love of Our Lives, a.k.a, Boddhisattva!
