Boomer

    Why do we love our pets so much?

    We love them so much because they love us so much. Because they love us so much, and so unconditionally. No matter what we do to them, they never get mad—they just love us.

    But pets break our hearts. Pets don’t live as long as we do. They leave us. They move into our homes and our hearts and then they pass on and leave us empty and broken.

    My dog Boomer died suddenly Monday. She was thirteen and I had adopted her before I had children. She was essentially my first kid. I took her to the vet because we thought she might be having heart problems. I thought I would be taking her home with some medicine.

    I took my kids to get ice cream while I waited for my vet to call to give me the go ahead to pick her up. My vet did call but it was to tell me that my dog had just died. They had tried to revive her, but to no avail.

    I waited until my kids had finished their ice cream before I broke the news to them. I kept getting up and leaving using excuse after excuse, so that I wouldn’t cry in front of them.

    Finally they finished and I walked them back to the car. On the way I told them. My little boy burst into tears. My older boy was much more stoic, more matter-of-fact. The vet had told me that they had prepared my beloved Boomer so that my family could say good-bye to her.

    I asked my boys if they wanted to say good-bye to Boomer and they said yes. We drove to the vet.

    We were the most sad, pathetic trio as we approached the room where they lovingly wrapped Boomer in a blanket. Only her face was visible. She looked as though she was sleeping. My boys and I cried and cried and cried. We touched her beautiful face and felt her soft ears. They still felt like velvet and they were sticking up at an angle that they often did while she was sleeping making her look all the more sweet and peaceful.

    It was my youngest son who turned for the door first, not being able to stand any more pain. His little heart was aching and he spent most of the next two days in tears. He didn’t want to go to school for fear that he would cry and the other kids would make fun of him. I decided to send him to school after emailing his teacher to tell about our family’s loss. She assured me that she would keep an eye on my son.

    My husband and I spent most of the next day digging a hole the appropriate depth for a dog of Boomer’s size. The job turned out to be way harder than either on of us expected. My husband did most of the work and it took him at least six hours.

    I picked up eight balloons, one for each member of our family including our two birds and our remaining dog. I chose a pink balloon to represent Boomer and aqua colored balloons for the rest of us.

    My husband picked Boomer up at the vet and brought her home. He buried her in a sunny spot in our yard visible from almost every room in the house and then placed a tree on top of her. As the tree grows we will always think of our beloved Boomer.

    My husband, my two boys and I each shared our favorite memory of Boomer and then we released the balloons. My idea was to release Boomer’s balloon first and then ours would follow. But my youngest son, who couldn’t bear to separate the balloons, quickly overruled this idea. He said he wanted all our balloons to be together, a fair reflection of the terrible loss he was feeling.

    He asked me to tie the balloons together and then let them go. So I tied them together and we all held the balloons together as a family and let go of them together and we watched them until they disappeared into the evening sky.

    As the balloons ascended into the sky the funny thing was that all the aqua balloons fought against each other. They pulled and tugged each wanting to go their own direction. But the pink balloon, it just floated straight up, moving steadily and unwavering up to it’s destination.

    I thought how like our family that is, crazy and tumultuous and each going our different ways. But then there is Boomer, always there always loving, always peaceful always steady and unwavering.

    Boomer, we will miss you.

Comments

[Muum]

So sorry for your great loss. How wonderful for your family to have had such a wonderful, long time relationship Boomer.

[Muum]

So sorry for your great loss!

[Katie]

You said it best, they don't live as long as we do. It's really their only fault.

My thoughts are with your family tonight.

[misti]

Awww, I am sorry to hear about this. Another 'friend' on Flickr lost her doggie on Monday as well. :( *hugs* from my cats and doggie.

[Bates Electric]

I Love Dogs

[Q]

"He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog.
You are his life, his love, his leader.
He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart.
You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion." - Anonymous

[Q]

"All dogs go to heaven."

[Glenda]

Oh, I needed a good cry. I have been through this more times than I like to count.

God bless Boomer and your family.

CIao

[Annie in Austin]

My condolences to all of you Chigiy - reading about your family's farewell ceremony for Boomer was very touching.

Annie at the Transplantable Rose

[Elise]

Ah Chigiy, Rich told me about Boomer. I'm so sorry!!! Boomer was such an incredibly sweet dog. What's Mr. Wizard going to do without his buddy? :-(

[Kalyn]

So sorry to hear about Boomer. What a wonderful way to say goodbye to him with a ceremony that I'm sure the kids will always remember.

[Genie]

Oh, Chigiy, I am just now reading this and am just in a puddle at my desk at work. I'm so very, very sorry...how sad for all of you. Wishing you well, my friend...

[chigiy]

Thank you everyone for your kind thoughts about my dog Boomer. I have been avoiding responding to your comments because It has been so emotional.
I want you to know that my family and I are in a much better state of mind now. We can talk and laugh about what a great dog she was without melting into a puddle of tears.
We were lucky to have her.
Thank you for your support.

[Rich Binell]

Ode to Boomer

Boomer was the sweetest dog in the world. She wagged her 1-inch tail stump furiously, constantly, and happily.

She never got mad. She never bit anybody no matter who climbed over her or stepped on her.

We will miss a lot of things about her.

We will miss her running outside to the end of the driveway to pick up the newspaper every morning.

We will miss her stopping on the way to do her thing, then scampering back to the door without the paper, and having to tell her again to get the paper because she forgot what she was doing.

We will miss her vaccuming up anything that fell off a counter, off a plate, or off a table.

We will miss her happy grunts as she walked around the couch and scratched her back against the couch.

We will miss her stealing sandwiches off the table when nobody was looking.

We will miss the fact that nobody ever saw her steal sandwiches off a table because she was so stealthy about it.

We will miss her on the patio under the barbecue looking for tasty ribs.

We will miss her on the patio waiting for somebody to whack a yellowjacket with an electric flyswatter so she could eat the fried yellowjacket, one of her favorite foods.

We will miss her incredible ability to snarf down just about anything, especially things that dogs aren’t supposed to like, like oranges.

We will miss her heavy bark when anyone came into our yard, which we used to call “our doorbell made of meat.”

We will miss playing with her.

We will miss playing soccer with her, and we could tell that she knew the rules and wanted to learn to dribble.

We will miss playing basketball with her, because a well-placed pass could make her bounce it right back to you.

We will miss the fact that she was probably the only dog in the world who thought she could throw a basketball.

We will miss the fact that she could open her mouth so far that she could pop a soccer ball.

We will miss the fact that she ripped part of a soccer ball’s leather cover off so she could carry it without popping it.

We will miss the way she would plop herself exactly in the midle of the kitchen floor so mom would have to make dinner while stepping over and dancing around her.

We will miss the way that when we threw her a treat she would catch it in midair, and then snatch her adopted brother Mister Wizard’s, too,

We will miss her barking constantly whenever she saw us hugging, as if she wanted a piece of the action.

We will miss her stopping her barking long enough for her to give one of us a butt goose with her nose while we were hugging.

We will miss feeding her leftover pancakes at breakfast time.

We will miss feeding her pizza rinds and cheese rinds.

We will miss her tongue hanging out a mile when she panted.

We will miss her prancing around on the lawn.

We will miss her bouncing along after her kong balls.

We will miss her knocking on a leg with her head to get scratched on her belly where she liked it.

We will miss her walking over and placing her belly on an outstretched leg so that she could get her belly scratched automatically.

We will miss her warm fur against our bare feet under the dinner table.

We will miss the jingle of her collar as she prowled around.

We will miss the velvety softness of her folded-over ears.

We will miss the fact that she never had puppies because we want one right now.

We will miss her.

We will miss her tiger stripes.

We will miss her white belly.

We will miss her big tongue.

We will miss her big sad brown eyes and her happy face and her happy dappy wiggle dance when she wanted something or got something or saw us for the first time after we were away.

We will miss her.

A lot.