A Dog’s Life

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Scott picked up the leash and we walked out the door with Boomer like we had so many times before. Only this time we weren’t heading out to explore the city or to let Boomer stretch his legs. This time we were going to say goodbye. To him.

Cancer. We’ve heard that diagnosis before – when medical tests found the cause of our 13-year-old son’s massive headache. This time the diagnosis was for our dog.

We named him Boomer, a nod to Oklahoma, the place we raised our kids. The kids had begged and lobbied for another dog after Sundance. We told them to write a proposal detailing how this time they would be the primary caregivers.

They persisted.

We relented.

And they weren’t. (the primary caregivers)

We brought Boomer home. He was adorable, with large paws, soft velvety ears and the Labrador smile.

Up to this point in her life, 8-year-old McKenna was scared of dogs, even small ones. But Boomer changed all that.

After Boomer was neutered, he had to wear a cone. He moped around with his eyes on the ground, bumping into walls and steps.  It was hard to watch. McKenna came up with an idea. After dinner I found her reading books to Boomer, his head and cone on her lap.

We took him to puppy school. Due to our inconsistency, he was not well trained. He did know how to sit and sat preemptively whenever he saw food. As Alyssa voiced for him, “Good things happen when I sit.”

Although this is a memoir, Boomer’s full life story would include the time he rode in the back of a police car and the time our neighbors fed him french fries, his front paws on the counter.

It would describe his walk on the treadmill (McKenna again) and how he raided the neighbor’s pantry for Cheetos.

It would tell about the people who loved him, other than us. People like our elderly neighbor who bought a juicy bone for him each week. And the neighbor who talked to Boomer every time she walked by with her mini dog.

Once our hometown newspaper girl knocked on the door and introduced herself as “one of Boomer’s friends.” Boomer made friends everywhere we went.

Boomer chewed anything he could get his teeth on. He shredded the newspaper (we placed a milk can on the front porch as a receptacle.) He gnawed holes in the heavy cardboard box that housed the generator. He even destroyed the Amazon box my Christmas present arrived in – coat and all.

With all this chewing, we wondered why the neighbor gave him a small stuffed squirrel. We named it Chester and speculated how long it would take Boomer to decimate his new toy. Instead, Boomer tenderly carried Chester around and slept close to him. When we discovered that Chester didn’t make the last move, we purchased a small sock monkey. Boomer cared for Marvin as he had cared for Chester.

A family man, Boomer guarded his people well. The job was not without consequences. More than once after rousing a skunk, Boomer was sprayed head to tail.

When we came home, he greeted us with a smile and a lick, his tail wagging. Constant, loyal, patient, protective. Always glad to see us. It doesn’t get much better than that.

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Many of our happiest memories are with Boomer. You might even say he was a symbol for our family. A symbol of ordinary days together. He’s been a constant for 11 years, a long time for a large breed dog. McKenna says he was the last thing left from her childhood, downsizing and sale of our family home.

He’s always been there. And maybe that’s how we will remember him.

How do you say good-bye to a dog?

See you there, Boomer.