Farewell to a beloved pet, Sir Vincent of Whent

I was in my freshman year at the University of Oregon when my parents had to put Shiner, our family dog of 14 years, down. He’d had arthritis in his hind legs for a while and one night, he lost all feeling in his back end. My parents made the decision to put him down quickly, and also chose to shelter me from the knowledge that they had done so until I came home for a visit a couple weeks later. As soon as I walked in the door to the back porch, I noticed Shiner’s food and water dish were missing. I remember thinking it odd, and maybe Mom had moved them elsewhere. Only after I set my stuff down and walked into the living room did it become apparent that the dog was no longer there. Dad quickly told me, “Linds, we have some bad news. We had to put Shiner down.” I listened to their story of what happened with sadness, but I don’t remember crying right away. My tears came later-- the next few nights in bed when I was alone with my thoughts.

My heart is still pained to this day when I think of how my parents and younger brother must have suffered so without me knowing. I don’t remember what I had going on in the weeks surrounding, but Mom insists that it was something important enough (midterms, finals?) that she didn’t want me to be away from home, grieving by myself, and worrying about them. Instead, they had to hold everything in during those weeks when I was no doubt calling them often to vent about my own struggles. I honestly still can’t say now what I would have preferred. I’m thankful my family is strong and so considerate of my feelings.

Fast forward about five months or so to the summer of 2004. I had only been home from college for a few weeks when I hear my Dad and brother’s mumblings about getting a new dog. Mom, I think, was pretty decidedly against getting another one so soon. I’m sure she had finally just finished cleaning up the very last black hair that Shiner had left behind. I’m sure Shiner’s death was still a bit raw for her as well, and she knew that new puppies are, in fact, a lot of work. However, that did not deter my father from searching the classifieds one morning and stumbling upon an ad for purebred Golden Retriever puppies being sold near Redmond. They wanted $300 for one, which I thought at the time, was insanely expensive for a dog. We got Shiner out of a cardboard box at a fair for free. I questioned Dad, with raised eyebrows, if Mom was really ready for another dog. His eyes shining, I knew what was coming next,

“Your mother doesn’t know what she really wants.”

It was an inside joke that had been carried on as long as I could remember, but in this case, Mom had actually always wanted a Golden Retriever. She, perhaps, just was going to have to compromise on the timeframe.

And so, that very same day, my Dad, brother and I found ourselves barreling down the highway in search of the farmhouse with the Golden puppies. When we arrived, the mother dog, a slim, petite, beautiful Golden Retriever, greeted us. We made our way into the garage, hailed the owners, and set our eyes on the six or so little puppies playing in a pen. They were all very pretty dogs, with cute faces and shiny yellow coats. The owners rolled some of them over for us, asking if we were looking for a male or female. The gender of our choice required little discussion—we all knew we wanted another male dog. There were only two left males left, a third having been claimed by the owners of the sire. They pointed to the huskier one of the group, the first-born, and then to another, the runt, who was the same size as his sisters. We played around with them a little bit to try to get a feel for their personalities, as much as you can a new puppy, and then Dad looked to Jared to make the decision. I remember being hesitant about both choices. The oldest one looked big—I thought he’d grow to be a really big dog and Mom might not like that so much. I also had reservations about the runt, merely because he was just that—the runt of the litter. I can’t say what my brother thought of as I was mulling this over in my own head, but I think he connected with the littlest one, perhaps from being the youngest himself, and chose the runt.

Back in the car on the way home, I remember being filled with nervous anticipation for showing Mom our newest find. The puppy whimpered a bit on the way, as Dad urged my brother to keep the puppy in his lap and keep talking to him, reminding him that the puppy had never been away from his mother or his siblings like this before. Jared soothed him as much as possible until we reached the church where my Mom worked. I can’t recall what was going on that day, but I remember that she wasn’t in her normal office. There was some kind of get-together at the student center across the campus, and she was helping with food and setup. There were a few other families we knew from the church there as well.

I’d be lying if I said that it was love at first sight for Mom and the puppy. We got out of the car, plopped the puppy down outside, and when Mom saw us, it took a half second for her to register what was going on. I remember her turning sharply back to the kitchen, not saying a word. I can only imagine what must have gone through her head as we showed the puppy off to the group, allowing him to make his first debut as part of our family. I don’t think Mom ever seriously considered taking him back to the farmhouse, but I don’t think it wouldn’t have mattered if she did, because the puppy won her heart quickly anyway. As we brought him home that night, it was clear-- he was ours, and we were his.

Jared and I busied ourselves for the rest of that week playing with our new dog, training him, making sure he didn’t pee in the house, and a few times, searching for him because we were sure he was lost. We finally discovered that he liked to sleep smashed between things—the deck, Jared’s stuffed animals under his bed, etc. No doubt, he missed the closeness of sleeping with his brothers and sisters in the pen. It took us the better part of that week to come up with a name as well. I took to calling him “little dog” and “boof” because he didn’t bark, he just kind of let out a small woof, or grunt instead. That name stuck for me, even after he developed a rather mean-sounding warning bark when he got older. Finally, one day, Jared and I were in the middle of a heated game of NBA Street on the Playstation. Jared turned to me, “What about, Vince?”

Vince. I looked over at the dog. “Yeah, I think that would be okay.”

We told Mom and Dad when they got home, and Mom mentioned that she’d probably just call him Vincent. We thought that sounded better. But, later that day when I looked over his “family tree,” which was registered on some national pet registry, I noticed that his ancestors’ names read like a Downtown Abbey cast book-- “Lord this” and “Lady that”. I guess it’s a thing for purebreds. So, NOT to be outdone, I suggested an amendment to our puppy’s name. We needed something regal for our noble dog, especially if he was going to be registered too. And so, our dog’s full name, “Sir Vincent of Whent” was chosen.

I still marvel at the difference between our two dogs. Shiner had mostly lab in him, but was also mixed with healer and collie. This made him a true “dog’s dog” and he probably would have played fetch until he toppled over from exhaustion. Vincent was completely different. He had the most personality of any dog I’ve ever know. He never played fetch on land, which was shocking to us all after Shiner. The only time Vincent was interested in bringing back something that we threw was when we tossed a stick in the water. He’d jump in, time after time, to chase the stick into the middle of a lake, but not ever could you convince him to do it more than once while on dry land. He’d look at you like you were wasting his time. He loved the water, and always enjoyed our trips to the lake, never tiring of swimming and fetching.

I’m not sure how he did it, but Vincent knew exactly how to push buttons and get us riled up. It started with him stealing our socks or other items that were on the floor, refusing to give them back until we traded him for a treat. On occasion, he’d leave them outside, freezing them solid in the winter. He knew he wasn’t supposed to bring pine cones in the house, but every time we opened the garage door, he snagged one, brought it inside, and taunted us with it, his whole backside wiggling away. We always knew he had something he wasn’t supposed to when he wiggled like that. When he was older, and you weren’t paying him enough attention, he’d walk right up and snatch something out of your hand as you were walking away. I chased him around several times trying to retrieve my clothes, boxes, and even my water bottle. One time, he was so mad at us for leaving him to go on Christmas vacation that he actually took a whole VCR tape in his mouth off the right coffee table and tried to dart outside with it through his doggy door before Mom yelled at him. He’d purposely “lose” his leash on walks and have us hunting around for it until we had just about given up, and then he’d race right to the spot where he left it.  He'd chew up Mom's flowers and tulip bulbs if he got upset at her for something.  His games were played by his rules, and he’d make it known if you weren’t playing correctly. His antics quickly earned him the endearing nickname of “Brat.”

Oh, how Vincent loved to go on walks and runs. We took him on walks from a very early age and discovered quickly that he was not an obedient walker. He had his own ideas of where we should go. I’ll never forget the first time I saw him pick up a stick on his way back home from a walk. I don’t know how he knew we were heading home after only a few times walking with him, but as soon as we did, he immediately searched the ground for a stick. No. Searched the ground for a log-- huge pieces of wood, almost bigger than he was, and heavy. He had to have one to take home at the end of every walk. It’s like the Retriever in him just took over, and was amazing and hilarious to watch. We had many laughs over the monstrous pile of wood he left at the end of the driveway over the years. I remember too that it didn’t take him long to know where home was. One time, not long after we started the walks, Dad dropped the leash long before the entrance to our cul-de-sac, and we watched as he pranced, with the stick tight in his mouth, all the way up to our garage door, leaving us a football field’s length behind. When he got older, Mom took him for nightly walks along the fire road, which borders a forest for as far as you can see. Mom told me that the first time she took him out, she panicked because he just took off, running full speed to the edge of the tree line, without warning. He’d never done anything like that before. After getting a long ways off in the distance, he stopped and looked at Mom. She called him, and he came racing back, running full speed again, right to her side. It was like an unleashed freedom, and the walks were from then on something that he and Mom shared and enjoyed for all of his days. Vincent loved fighting with the leash and chasing after squirrels on those walks.

Another of Vincent’s greatest joys was car rides. I don’t care if he’d gone with you in the car 20 times already that day, he’d be just as excited to go the 21st time. When Dad was home from work, he took Vincent everywhere. Vincent would sit on his shoes and often positioned himself within a few feet of the door, so not to be left behind. The summer that we got him was also the summer that I got the first car that was truly mine, my 1998 Mustang. I used to take Vincent to the park in it, first plopping him down on the passenger’s seat, but he’d always end up in my lap instead, head hanging out the window, smiling at everyone who drove by. He considered his true place with us, curled up in the back of the Durango, or sticking his head out the window to see what was going on. He had the saddest face you’ve ever seen whenever we told him he couldn’t go with us.

Vincent absolutely refused to let any of us walk down the driveway without him. He’d cry and bark and carry on, and even escape out of the fence if he could find a loose spot in the wire. Jared and I tried to go Rollerblading without him one day in the summer when he was older, and did not even get halfway down the cul-de-sac before he had somehow escaped from the fence and joined us on our skate around the Lasso loop, running full speed behind, panting, as we laughed all the way. Neighbors reported he’d sometimes use his escape techniques to go and visit other dogs in the neighborhood when he got “bored” while Mom was at work for the day, but he’d always be waiting for her on the front step.

 Like most Goldens, he was a routine dog, and our lifestyle fit that nicely. Vincent would get up every morning with Mom, “help” her get and read the paper, and wait faithfully for his walk when she came home. Dad would see squirrels and birds in the yard and send Vincent after them because he liked to watch the chase. Dad always told Vincent he was a “good boy” when he returned inside, and I swear that Vincent always had a look of great satisfaction after. He barked, low and strong, when someone was at the door, but then was quick to show them that he was happy they were there. He loved to play with his stuffed animals, Simba and his bear, and with his rope, but never growled when playing tug-of-war with you. He enjoyed bones, and people food, and the special treats Mom made for him. My brother worked with him to train some basic skills, and even taught him to rollover, which was silly to watch. When my brother moved out a few years later, it made me feel better to know that Mom wasn’t truly ever by herself. She had her great friend there to keep her company. I loved coming to visit and spending time with Vincent, getting my “pet” fix, and even though I never lived a full year at home while we had him, I still considered him my dog as well. I have fond memories of just sitting on the floor, singing to him and petting him. He was such a happy dog, and always got excited to see us when we came home.

As some purebreds do, Vincent had his share of health problems. The sheer amount of medical bills was another great difference between our two animals. Vincent had allergies and growths on him from young age and was regularly at the vet, where Shiner hardly had any major issues. However, it was still a shock when Dad called me on Thursday to tell me that he had sad news. Vincent wasn’t doing well, and the doctor was sure he had spleen cancer that had likely spread. Dad, who does not tolerate the suffering of animals well, was ready to put him down that day. Vincent hadn’t eaten well in a week, and was slow and tired. My brother convinced my parents to wait for him to come up from California for the weekend to see Vincent again, and Vincent did rebound for a short time while on some medication that Friday. My brother was able to make it home, and spend the last few days with our dog, taking him to one of his favorite places, Camp Sherman, so he could put his head out the window and see the river and one more time.

I had considered home going as well, but the selfish part of me wanted to remember my dog as I had seen him a month ago when I visited home-- happy, healthy and full of personality. At my parents’ insistence, it was okay, I chose to stay home, once again apart from my family while they said goodbye to our beloved family dog. I’m okay with my choice. I know that my family loved on Vincent and each other for me.

I know that the bible doesn’t give us a very straight answer on if we’ll ever see our animals again in heaven. My heart was so very much to believe that we do. It’s impossible for me to imagine eternal happiness without being able to pet my dogs and or take them on walks. I do know that God answers prayers about our animals. While I prayed for healing or help with acceptance that Sunday, my Mom had the good sense to also pray that He make it clear and obvious if putting Vincent down on Monday was the only option. He did. He allowed my family to make the right choice, without doubts, and be there together. I hope that God has a special place for dogs somewhere in His kingdom.

Although my heart aches for my Mom, Dad and brother, I try to remember all the fun times and great memories that we had together with Vincent, as a family. Farewell to a very beloved friend. Forever, you are ours, and we are yours.

Lindsay

I seem to have misplaced May!

Aaaaaand, so it's been a month since I last blogged!  Obviously, I didn't take much time to do it up in Oregon for my Mother's Day trip.  This is about the time of the year, too, when resolutions are long forgotten.  It's hard to believe we're at the halfway point for 2013 already.  I want to take time by the neck and shake it so that it will SLOW DOWN.  I'm sure before I look up again, we'll be almost through summer!  But, let's not think of that now.  I'll start off with a hard look at my resolutions, only slightly curious of other who might have met or are keeping theirs.

1.  I have slowly let my blogging sag to where I update now only once or twice a month.  I really want to get on this and change it.  Sometimes after sitting at the computer for the whole day, it's hard to get back on.  But, I really want to make myself do it!
2. I feel like being active at lunch is something that's kind of stuck into a semi-habit.  I'm usually able to guilt-trip myself enough to at the very least take a walk around the block.  I've started running on Thursday's now, and hopefully that will keep up through summer.
3. May was not the best month to judge my most-activeness.  I did work out in Oregon, and continued to go to Bootcamp, but Memorial day and the teacher's vacay allowed for me to miss almost two weeks straight.  I made up for it with walks or jogs, but I don't feel like I was as active as I should have been.  Softball season has started up for my husband's law firm, and our games are on Wednesday nights now, which kills my bootcamp nights.  I really want to slim down a bit for summer, so I'm brainstorming fun ways to get tough workouts in.
4. I  honestly don't think much has changed on the junk food habits.  Maybe I've passed up on a few things, but I still feel the need to treat myself way too often.  I need healthier choices on the horizon!
5. Flossing every other night is a full-blown habit that I hope to carry with me from this day out.  Yay for healthy teeth and at least one kept resolution!
6. I haven't Yelped in a while, but I plan to head over there tonight to review the Golden Tee in Monterey.
7. I'm SO bad about these backblogs.  I need to set myself reminders, or something!

Let's take May week-by-week and I'm pressure myself into updating next week as well!  :)

May 9-15 was my trip back up to Oregon, where mom and I got to spend some quality time for a full week.  It was a really relaxing and super fun vacation.  We had a mother-daughter tea at the church where my mom works, went out to eat and shopping for Mother's day, and I got to hang out with my old crew from high school and enjoy the simple way of life in Sisters, Oregon.  I had a donut at the bakery, walked my dog behind the house, and was a tourist around Sisters for a while.  It really is amazing what you can get used to.  I go back now and am like, "wow!  I lived like that!  I went to that school and waived at those people.  I swam there and rollerbladed there and grew up with all this!"  It's so nice to have a relaxing spot as beautiful as Sisters to go and visit and call your home.  I can't believe it's been ten years since my high school graduation.  It's going to be a trip to see everyone in August!

The middle of May I don't really remember much of.  :)  Likely it was spent resting and running errands and working.  I don't think that we really even went on any trips until the end of May.  Sometimes it's really good just to have time like that, too.  My cousin did graduate from the master's program as CSULB and we're so proud to have a Master's graduate in the family!   I wish I could have been down there with her to watch, but with all the time that I took off to go to Oregon, I didn't want to miss much more work.  Hopefully, we'll have time to have a big family party for her when she comes to visit at the end of June.

The end of May was pretty jam-packed.  We went down to Monterey on the Friday before Memorial Day to hang out with my family.  Steve also had a law school friend in town from LA and invited him to play golf on Laguna Seca-- the place we got married!  We also barbequed, played some tennis, walked around the wharf and had some drinks at the Golden Tee!  We didn't get much of a break after returning to Fremont.  Tuesday, we went to Steve's law firm event at the Oakland A's game and watched the A's take on the Giants from box seats.  Wednesday I skipped out on bootcamp to join a friend from Chicago at dinner in SF with Steve and one of our friends from Steve's firm.  It was great to hang out in the city!

So, that brings us to June, which looks fairly uneventful so far, until the later portion of the month when my cousin and her husband come to visit.  It's our mission to keep June clear and cheap, though, because our last half of the summer is going to be jam-packed.  We have a wedding in Detroit (which is costing us a small fortune to attend thanks to insane plan tix from here to that part of the country!), my ten-year SHS reuinion on Labor day (Aug 3) back in Sisters (that I'm also helping to coordinate), and then a wedding in Seattle that Steven is actually in the weekend right after that.  It's going to be insane!  Luckily, September is going to be rounded off really nicely by a weekend trip to Yosemite with the whole family.  My parents and two uncles all have their birthdays within one week (almost), so we rented a few houses and are celebrating my youngest uncle's 50th in style!  Can't wait!

But we're so lucky that we live in the Bay Area.  There are honestly endless activities that we can do on the cheap side and still feel excited about them.  We have mapped out several more hikes, been invited to take advantage of a friend's cabin in Tahoe, explore more of SF (which we sadly never do), hit the beaches, and even thrown in a Trail Ride on horseback!  More on that later-- hopefully!

For this weekend, we are kicking back again and just seeing where the road takes us.  I'm into it, as I've been trying to find ways to take my mind of stress and worry, and not be anxious about more than is necessary is a nice change.  Good thing is--  the weather is impossibly nice and I'm looking forward to working on a golden, California girl tan.  :)

Here are some pics from May!