Goodbye, Little Buddy

The toy poodle came from a puppy mill. His name was Licorice at the time, and he was used to make more poodles. When the breeder was done with him, she took the little black pup to be euthanized at a Houston animal shelter. He was only four years old.

Fortunately, a wonderful foster mom from Forgotten Friends swooped in and took the poor guy back to Austin with her. (She also renamed him Dexter.) The foster mom posted his picture online, and one day while I was surfing the dog version of Match.com, I came across a tiny pooch in need of a family.

My husband, Bill, settled into the couch as I showed him a picture of what appeared to be a small black smudge sitting on a linoleum floor. He couldn’t see the potential I saw in this pitiful, frightened creature, but with a shrug of his shoulders, he gave the silent okay.

I’d been toying with the idea of getting another dog, but I was afraid of loving a creature so much, knowing we would probably outlive him. Our previous dog had died less than a year before, and it was so painful I swore I’d never do it again. But we had to admit there was a hole in our lives without a furry friend, so we brought Dexter into our home.

The first time we put him in our backyard, he took high goose-steps like a fuzzy little soldier. He’d been kept in a cage his entire life and wasn’t familiar with the concept of grass. It broke my heart.

At only eight pounds, our new boarder was little but mighty—as in breath that smelled mighty like a decomposing rat stuck inside a wall. (Ask me how I know.) It was love at first sight—if not smell—for us, but he didn’t return the affection.

We’d only had Dexter a couple of days when he dashed out the front door behind us and kept on running. It was as if it had been planned. We chased him by foot and by car, but he was so scared, he just kept running. Having no idea who we were, he couldn’t get away from us fast enough. He crossed over busy South First Street, ran into a nearby park, and that was the last we saw of him.

I made flyers for my lost pooch, then put them up EVERYWHERE. Three long days and sleepless nights later we received a call from a stranger saying they had cornered him in an alley and grabbed him. We were overjoyed.

After a full day of barfing up whatever he’d lived on the previous three days, he slowly adjusted to his new surroundings. We took him on a long walk to remove all the lost dog signs we’d put up throughout the neighborhood. At one corner the folks at a bus stop saw what was going on and gave us a cheer and round of applause. We weren’t the only ones happy Dexter had made it home.

He slowly began to trust us and accompanied me about the house like a one-poodle parade. It took him a little longer to warm up to Bill, but he eventually did. We were becoming a family.

A year or so after we got Dexter, we had an unexpected surprise. My sister’s mother-in-law died suddenly and left her Maltese, Harry, behind. He was traumatized. We brought Dexter over to my sister’s house, where we found Harry clearly distressed. But somehow Dexter was a soothing presence and let Harry follow him like a child follows a parent. It was magic. Suddenly Dexter had a little brother.

I tried to be a good mom, but one day I completely blew it. I let Dexter and Harry outside before a big storm and proceeded to forget they were out there. The rain beat down for a good ten minutes before I realized what I’d done. I brought them in, soaking wet. Dexter was permanently scarred and cowered by my side whenever he heard thunder. The guilt has never gone away.

It’s painful to come to terms with life without Dexter. He had grown gray, and his goose-step was more of a duck waddle toward the end, but he never lost what made him Dexter. He never ceased to make us—and anyone who met him—smile. Every moment with him was precious.

And now we say goodbye. Choosing to euthanize our little guy at home was a good decision, but I don’t think it made his parting any less painful. We committed to giving him a good life, and I hope we passed muster.

I wasn’t the best dog mom. I could have paid more attention to Dexter, given him more treats, not traumatized him during a thunderstorm. But I loved that guy more than I can express with words. Life will never be quite the same. I will miss him forever.

Sleep well, little buddy. Sleep well.