Retrospective

It was a day we all knew would come eventually as he grew older. It’s just hard that it came yesterday.

He became a part of our family so long ago, no one remembers for sure. Our estimates range from 15-17 years ago, but he wasn’t a new pup then either. An old boy with a lion’s mane and stocky build, he was a mutt and we all loved him. The story goes that a farmer was going to shoot him, but my parents rescued him. Some of our best pets came to us that way.

First, he lived in our old brick farmhouse. A temperamental being, he didn’t enjoy the confines of a house. Indoors, he’d pace nervously, his face seemingly showing the anguish of his internal unrest. He preferred a life of leisure out back where he could smell the fresh air, where he could sleep outside under the stars on an old sleeping bag and enjoy his meals with nature. We went above and beyond to make his outdoor abode as comfortable as possible, completely lining his old dog house with cushioning and a fresh coat of paint. He was a simple guy though, and did a little redecorating once he moved in, spending hours tearing out every piece of the cushioning and piling it out front of his house where he laid on it.

He was spirited too. He had a love/hate relationship with cats and a hate/hate relationship with opossums. More than a time or two, he discovered one of those disgusting things enjoying his food and it quickly became their last meal. He wasn’t vicious about it, but handled it like a duty, something that had to be dealt with. He didn’t mind creatures walking past his home, but anything that ran past jostled something within his demeanor that caused him to run wildly after it, breaking chains and uprooting any dog run that attempted to peg him to the ground. As he aged, these outbursts of energy were fewer and further between.

A fierce looking dog with thick paws and heavy head, his look in no way reflected his personality. Instead, he was kind, loving and gentle to everyone who ventured his way.

After we moved away from home and my mother got sick, Nemo went to live with my sister and her new husband. In his “retirement years,” he was again offered an opportunity to move inside and declined, preferring to live in the barn. My sister bought him his own igloo (which he tolerated) and the best food money could buy – a considerable upgrade from the “Ole Roy” he enjoyed in his younger years. At the top of her driveway, he was the sentinel, walking proudly out the barn door to assess whoever came to visit. Little roused his interest and he’d meander back inside to his temperature controlled water dish, special dog food and the occasional treat.

Unlike most in his species, he did not appreciate travel and had no affinity for wind in his hair. So, it was good that his last experience in life was not a car ride to the vet to be euthanized. A big dog, he probably far outlived anyone’s expectations and in the way we welcome death for an old friend or loved one who has lived a good, long life, his departure for eternal sleep at his home was a blessing.

Farewell, 'Mo.