The loss of a pet is always a difficult experience. No matter how old the animal is, when they are gone our hearts are left with such a deep void where we greatly long for them. I'm not trying to minimize or even remotely compare the value of a humans life to that of an animal. Rather, I am simply trying to find a way to express in my own way the sense of loss that we all feel, especially regarding the death of a dog, and more specifically of course that of a Brittany dog.
I grew up with all kinds of animals in my life as both parents loved them dearly. My friends and I shared that same love for our beloved pets and I can remember the names, not only of my own, but of many of theirs through the years of childhood and into adulthood. This love of animals continued when John and I were married and also throughout our years of raising a family. It remains strongly here today.
Recently there have been discussions about the reality of what the next 10 years or so will bring in regards to our Brittany crew here. As owners of mulitple dogs and also as hobby breeders there are many, many Brittanys in our heart and our lives. We have shared the sadness with others who have contacted us after a recent loss of their own. Some of our strongest friendships in recent years truly have come about through such a loss. The emails, phone calls, inquiries and visits with people who are trying to decide if they want another Brittany after the loss of one they loved deeply cause a very special bond to develop, and a bond I highly value and treasure. When I cry with a total stranger and shed tears with them about such a loss, it is because in my heart of hearts I so clearly remember these times when dogs I have loved as if were not only yesterday, but right now in this moment in time.
I'm a Believer with a capital B and a subject which does often arise is whether or not an animal has a soul, and will we see them in heaven. I know my Bible and I understand what it has to say on the subject of the 'beasts of the fields' of the 'lesser creatures' and how 'mankind' has dominion over the animals. To get into this discussion on a theological level would never be a pretty thing to do with me. But to get into this discussion based on what my heart knows to be true, what I have experienced here at ATB, and the very private sadness shared with me by others concerning death - that is a discussion I am always ready for.
And so it is this week as I shed tears anew about the very first puppy from our very first litter of Brittany pups. If you've followed our story you may remember that I did not even WANT a Brittany back in 1986. Our children were 11 and 8 years old, we had a lovely 11 year old Golden Retriever/Lab cross and another dog was not in my future - or at least I thought. John was working fulltime, the kids were involved with all kinds of sports and activities and no matter how well intentioned they were - the full time care of a dog rested in my hands. But John had always wanted a Brittany and he managed to persuade the kids that they wanted one too. So the story goes, John was in touch with the Prides in Windham, Maine who knew about a Brittany out of their FC Pride & Joy Buschman belonging to Linda (now Triumphant Kennels) that was being leased somewhere by someone in Maine. The family headed off in the mini-van one Sunday to return home several hours later with a breed of dog I had never even seen before. My mind was made up that my heart would be closed to this Brittany that was a result of a family mutiny on mom. That lasted about 1 minute. Cricket an absolutely beautiful bouncy liver and white Brittany flew around the room and then jumped up into my lap and began kissing my face. That was enough to open my heart not only to her, but to a lifetime of happily ever after with Brittanys! Eventually John knew that he wanted to add another Brittany to our family. You know how it is, they are like Lay's potato chips - you can't have just one!!! In 1988 Freckles, out of Apple Valley lines, came to join our life. He was a beautiful orange and white boy. I had not yet started bird hunting yet but John and our son enjoyed hunting with them both. And by now I was totally sold on 'all' things Brittany. We did lose our Sandy dog to a stroke with canine dimentia following, something which really tore us up because she came to us a fluff ball when Maryann was just a wee toddler.
In July 1990 we had our first litter of Brittany pups and they consisted of 5 beautiful males. Cricket gave birth at home but due to complications the vet made a house call and brought her to the animal hospital where my parents had always gone with their Boston Terriers. I didn't realize the business had changed hands with all new doctors. Otherwise I never ever would have let her go. The bumbling idiots took Cricket in for an emergency c-section but made her labor all night long instead. They called us on the phone and said there were 6 live pups remaining according to the x-ray (5 had been born). They had not taken them by c-section! By the time we went to the hospital they had performed the surgery but way too late - and all 6 were stillborn. I'd be happy to share the name of this incompetent vet privately for they are still in practice in the Newington/Portsmouth NH area. Sweet Cricket and her puppies were healthy and that was the most important thing but there is no excuse for negligence.
The pups were spoken for well in advance but the only problem was to decide which 1 we wanted to keep. As is often the case, that pup made himself known to us. And Cricket's Hunter 'Brown' became ours. We stayed in touch with those families over the years. Recently we heard of one pup from that litter that had lived to the age of 16 and enjoyed hunting in the Greenville, Maine area almost to the end. Back then - the same preference for bird hunting families.
Hunter had a wonderful life with us and brought so much fun and enjoyment to us. In just the same way as John hunts with several Brittanys today, so he did back then. Hunter was hunted with his parents who parents eventually passed on. Lots of family trips to Greenville Maine where we stayed at Casey's Wilderness Camps on Moosehead Lake. I enjoyed staying back at the cabins or at the campsite with Maryann. Eventually both Johns would take off for a weekend together and enjoy some good bird hunting. One highlight of Hunters 'adolescence' was when Maryann would put her rollerblades on and have Hunter pull her down the middle of the street! So much for my attempt at training him to heel! We lived close to the school and there was no leash law then. Hunter would sit outside of the playground and watch 'his' kids at play. Or he'd go sit on the porch at the corner store enjoying the attention of people coming and going. And Hunter would also enjoy an occassional ride home from the local realtor in her Lincoln. Life was a little bit different no so long ago.
Kids grow up and grow away while parents work full time. And dogs who once were the light of the life for those young children suddenly grow older with other interests and the dogs begin to slow down. They are happy for the moments that are given to them to be with their owners, and their owners are grateful for the unconditional love their dogs give. So necessary for both owner and dog to give and receive as much love as possible. So, so necessary. I always knew how much Hunter loved me. He also knew how much I loved him. I 'retired' from my job in Hunter's senior years. We both came down with Lyme Disease the same year. Our lives changed in so many ways, both of our children had lives of their own and we had our first grandchild. I loved that time at home with Hunter and he loved it with me.
The summer of 2002 was a tough one for Hunter. I had a beautiful English Cottage Garden which was a joy to tend to in the early morning. Just outside of the garden which was enclosed with a classic white picket fence, there was an old unclaimed apple tree which always created an abundance of shade throughout the years. Picnics, storytime, and lazy summer naps in the swing were frequent occurances. You'd think an old Brittany dog would prefer to sleep in the coolness of the shade during the summer. But no, instead Hunter would amble over to where I was gardening and plop himself down in the corner - to be near to me. That was enough to make me stop what I was doing and call Hunter to me so we could walk up together to where the apple tree offered it's shade. Spending time with him was more important than pulling any stupid weeds. I enjoyed taking him for a ride down to beach so he could poke around. Even so, there was a nagging type of tugging at my heartstrings, telling me something I didn't want to hear. I watched him struggle in the heat more than ever before. 13 is young for a Brittany. But 13 was to be the number of his years. One afternoon in particular I remember looking at Hunter resting and I walked over to him. He didn't want to go up under the apple tree, he wanted to lay in the warmth of the sun. I don't know why but I told him "okay Hunter, this is where you will be laid to rest when it's time, I promise."
Summer turned into fall, turned into winter and that day came when he lost all dignity and control of himself. As much as I could not bear the thought of Hunter's passing, I did not want to cause him to linger here while the quality of his life was suffering. For him to walk across the floor and struggle with his breathing, yet look at me with his pleading eyes. The meds he was taking would prolong his life, but also potentially prolong his suffering. It would make me feel wonderful to do all we could for him, but would it make him wonderful? Could we do more medically for him? I think we all ask ourselves that in these situations and we do what we feel is best based on the age of the animal, the quality of life, the hope for full recovery, and the well being and integrity of the dog itself.
It's so fresh in my mind this week because this is the 9th 'anniversary' of Hunter's crossing over to the Rainbow Bridge. And I still would give anything to look into those beautiful loving eyes of Hunter, to see his wagging tail, hear his woof woof, and watch him roll over for a cookie. He never slept in the bed with us - but when John left for work, he'd jump up there with me. He never went on the furniture when we were home - but you'd drive by our house and see him peeking out the window over the top of the couch. I miss him even with all the wonderful Brittanys that we share our life with - Hunter still is very much a part of 'me'. He always will be. I know in the years to come that Hunter, Timber along with Sandy and others will all be waiting at what is known among pet owners as the Rainbow Bridge to greet those other Brittanys in our life as time passes on. Do pets go to heaven? The Bible is silent on this issue. Our hearts are not.
As always, God bless you and yours - John, Ann, and All Things Brittanys
