My Year of Meaningful (2011)

Saturday evening we came home after slaving away in the burning sun all day at an Animal Peeps fundraiser, earning thousands of bucks for the crowd that first brought this big boy into our lives, to find him lying dead in the back yard, with no explanation.

I was so shocked I couldn't really focus enough to be emotional, but today it's really hitting me.

But I'm conflicted as to what to say because the shock is still clouding the emotions. It's true that we'll never know 100% what happened, but it's 99% likely to have been poison-related based on clues (confirmed by Dr. Vet, over the phone), and 90% likely to have been a snake. To get highly technical, we've narrowed it down to a Mamba or the Puff Adder that I spotted in our garden before.

Mary & Richard came to see him & express their grief with us, and help us bury him. We opted for a less stoney spot than over by Reggie, at the end of the marquee lawn, on the west side, under the sunset. It was dusk, the sun was going down, everybody was sad. But again, the shock robbed us of our chance to be 100% tuned in to the cold truth that our big woofer was gone.

He came to us as a 1 & 1/2 year old welfare case, having suffered abuse and a horrible accident that left him forever 3-legged & gimpy. At first he was traumatized and limp, but after the long rehabilitation of his leg, he grew into his own hilarious and outrageous personality.

He had agression and trust issues to work out, often leaving the marks of this behind (in the Mr.'s face and left arm, primarily) but eventually began to trust adult males and even take instructions from the ones he used to be cheeky to. I thought it was going to take forever and a day to teach a 50kg boerboel to get into the truck, when it used to freak him out and send him into psycho fits. But with a little effort, it only took him a couple weeks, and his fear and car-related anxiety was conquered. Not by me, but by him trying so hard to please.

He learned obedience instructions faster than any dog I've ever had, like sit and stay and roll over, but the one thing he could never do was "stop talking". My favorite thing about Sech was the way he would sit down in front of you and just chatter, saying "moof moof wow wow wow" and look into your eyes to try and figure out if you were getting it.

This dog, more than any other dog, lived to please his humans. His magical tactic (once he learned it solid) was "sit". Even at 100 miles per hour on the fly, he would come screaming up to you and before bowling you over, right at the last second, the "sit" would come with the brakes. Every day we would drive into the driveway and flying around the corner would come the Big Gimp, and before crashing into you, he would sit and MOOF, knowing no pets would come unless there was bottom-on-the-ground action. This would then be followed by a big "roll over", without even being asked, in the most ungraceful fashion anyone had ever seen. I laughed every time.

The big crazy yellow eyes will always be imprinted on my mind - I never had a dog with yellow eyes before, and these ones were set so far back in his head, scaring almost everyone who ever saw him. It made us feel good, knowing that we had an intimidating force on the property, even though he was as soft as mush to us. He would've protected us from anything. He had an unbelievable sense of human vibes. He never growled a single tooth to Mary, yet he could spot a trespasser a mile away. He even wanted to protect his plot from the wildlife that came into it. Who could forget the porcupine, various snakes, and most recently the monitor lizard. We never wanted to punish him for being alert and on the job, because in these parts a good guard dog is a good asset. But the most amazing thing about him was that he was never trained or asked to do it, he just took it upon himself after settling into our family and realizing that we were his people. It was as if he was born to do it, and he already knew what to do. We never even had to train him to stay on his plot, he just instictively knew where his property line ended and that this land was his responsibility.

He loved us more than any other dog we've owned. Sure the other ones think we're great, but this dog would've fought to the death to protect us, and wouldn't rest until he was able to earn his pets and affection from us in return.

His best friend in the whole world, Reilly, is in mourning. So much more than we witnessed with our last loss. This morning she went outside to where he died, sniffed around, and then followed the exact trail we moved him on, over to his grave, and sniffed around some more. She's been obviously bummed today, and I can tell she just knows her best mate is gone now. No more tearing across the plot at top speeds, exhausting him and taunting him to keep up. No more secret walkabouts together through the bush on the plot, looking for live & dead creatures to play with, when mom & dad leave the house.

The Mr. is equally devistated, and keeps saying over and over "I had gotten so attached to him..." and we really can't believe how empty the house can feel without 50kg of solid PUPPY wonkily bouncing through the place going "hah hah hah hah". You really do miss it a lot more than a small, old dog.

I'm not surprised I miss him so much, just given his huge in-your-face style, and over-the-top presence in the house. But I also miss his eyes and his character and having a pup who was genuinely your biggest fan and protector. He was the kind of dog who would really grow on anyone, just ask the Mr. (the one who once threatened to get rid of him during one of their "getting acquainted" rows), and our gardener (whom he once tried to eat).

I know there's more to write, but for now, this is really all I can muster. I think the underlying sentiment is still just one of total confusion and loss.