Saturday, September 17, 2011
An Ode to Beau
Tuesday morning my parents left me two messages on my cell phone while I was at work. I found out later they took Beau to the vet since he had been coughing pretty badly. My dad insisted they do x-rays, and indeed they found a few spots on Beau’s lungs. They ruled out a fungus, and the vet said it was either pneumonia, or cancer.
The dreaded c-word.
Wednesday morning at work I had an almost two-hour conference call, and my cell phone rang in the middle of it. I knew it was one of my parents and sat there anxiously waiting to call them back. Something was up with Beau.
My dad’s voice was heavy when he picked up the phone. “Lauren, I have some bad news about Beau. He was up all night pacing the floor and panting heavily. Your mom and I decided to have him put down this morning.”
My eyes filled with tears and I murmured a few words in response. In my heart I had known it was Beau’s time to go, but selfishly I wasn’t ready. He had been my little buddy since 8th grade when we brought him home from the breeder’s house as a pup. And now he was gone.
As an only child, I thought of Beau as the little brother I never had. He spooned with me on my bed, snored like none other, and sat next to me when I was sad. I felt such comfort snuggling next to him and nuzzling my face in his soft ears. I would often say, “I see God in Beau, because he shows unconditional love and true companionship in an inexplicable way.” To me, that love epitomizes what I believe is God’s love for us.
Beau had his favorites: peanut butter, chasing birds, barking at the ripples in the pool water, begging for fruit and veggies, his stuffed toys always neatly piled in the living room, and of course his beloved “cookies” (dog biscuits) from Trader Joe’s. He had his un-favorites, too: getting his ears cleaned, strangers coming to the house, and being left alone during the day. I’ll never forget the bark that was bigger than his bite, his sweet licks on my face, and the way his tail wagged a million miles a minute when I came home.
Here’s to you, Prince Beauregard XXV. Happy birthday, little bro. I love you.