Journal tomhudson's Journal: Bear:: July 24th, 1992 to September 8th, 2004. 29

September 9th, 2004: Yesterday I had the hard duty of helping my best friend end his 2-year bout with cancer.

Bear was a male Newfoundland, loved by many, and an integral (some would say central) part of my life since he came into my life when he 14 months old.

We spent most of our time together, at home and at work, where his favourite place was curled up under my desk.

A year ago this spring I got him a girlfriend, Heidi, a 3-year-old St. Bernard, and another "pound puppy". After a rocky start, they became very close.

He gave me so much, and taught me so much, and all he wanted in return was love, food, walks, and a chance to sit at my feet or sleep on the floor next to my bed.

If I had to pick only 3 of the highlights of our time together, it would be these:

1. How we met: In the fall of 1993, the veterinarians at the Pierrefonds Animal Hospital gave me a stray dog (a mutt) that they had kept for 9 days. I named him "Bear". 2 months later, they called me back to tell me they had found the original owners, but that it was up to me to decide what to do. I called the woman (her husband was in the hospital recovering from a heart attack), and told her that it would be the dog's decision - if he was happy there, I would give him back to them. Everyone else thought this was nuts - that I should just keep Bear.

   The dog was happy to be back home - his home was a retirement home for seniors, and he brightened up their days, and picked up after them.

   The woman explained that, after almost a month with no news about their dog (whose real name was "Boots"), they had gone to the animal shelter and bought a Newfie dog, and that if I wanted him, I could have him.

   I explained that it had taken me 10 years to get over "Tiny" (a huge female mutt), and that I wasn't sure I wanted another dog after giving back Boots. She told me to at least take a look. My youngest daughter was living with me at the time, and when we saw this huge black dog, I asked her what she thought. She said "Sure, why not?" Next thing I knew, I was the owner of Brutus, a big, slobbering Newfie. He looked more like a real Bear than a Brutus, so I named him Bear also.

2. How we stayed together no matter what: A few years later, I remarried. Within months, Bear was a "problem" to my new wife. She was already afraid of him because he had stopped her when she had tickled her asthmatic 2-year-old to the point where he couldn't breathe. Bear forced her away from the boy, stood over him like a tent, and, every time she tried to move in ANY direction, he growled.

   Ultimately, I was told to choose between her and Bear. The choice was a no-brainer. I explained to her that a pet is for life, that I had Bear before we got married, and besides, Bear barked less than she did.

3. How we parted ways:For the last year, as Bear has gotten sicker, I've left him at home with Heidi. When I came home two nights ago, he was still under the kitchen table, unable to come to the door, unable even to sit up. This had happened 3 times before in the last year, and each time, after cleaning him up, and a lot of massaging and patience, and just lieing with him until the wee hours of the morning, he had recovered. This time was different. I could tell that my attempts to get his hind legs functioning were hurting him. I called my friends and my employer to tell them what was happening, and that it looked bad.

   By 1:30 am, I knew that there was nothing I could do except lie there on the kitchen floor with him, telling him that he was still the best dog in the world, and that I loved him.

   By 3:00 am, I knew that this was his last day. I promised him that if we were able to get him up and outside, I would take him to where it all started, and help him find relief.

   It was only at 7:10 am that, after several attempts, he was able to get up for what was the shortest morning walk we ever took. I had taken Heidi outside, and went back inside and asked him to come with us. He's a real champ. It took a lot out of him, but he was able, with help, to stand up. The three of us actually made it to the fire hydrant at the corner (3 houses). Then he wanted to go back home.

   I knew that he wanted to go sit under the kitchen table like he always does, but I also knew that I couldn't let him back in the house, or he'd never leave. Instead, I put both him and Heidi in the car, and we made the rounds, visiting a few places so people could say goodbye. Nadila at "Chez Cora" came out to see him, and George and Debbie at "Boccocino's" gave him an order of italian sausages for his last breakfast.

   We ended up at my sister Cathy's, where we spent the day until the appointed time in the late afternoon. The weather was picture-perfect - a sunny fall day, not too cool, not too hot.

   We spent hours together on the front lawn, just sitting there, enjoying each others company. At one point, I left the two of them while I went to the store to buy Bear his favourite treat - chocolate. I figured it couldn't do any harm at this point, and it actually gave him an energy boost. He was able to walk around, albeit very shakily, and hunt down the chocolate rosebuds that he didn't catch.

   But it passed too fast. The vets called at 2:35 to say that they had to move the time up, and could I be there at 3:15 pm instead of 3:30.

   Cathy met me at the vets, and it turned out that there were going to be some delays after all. When I told her that the doctor had been changed to Dr. Charbonneau, she said that she knew him - he's an excellent, kind vet. She helped with the paperwork while I waited outside with Bear.

   People would still pass us and compliment him - "That's a fine dog." "That's a beautiful dog." Even all skinny, eaten up inside by cancer, he still projected his personality.

   Finally, it was time. We went in the room, and doctor Charbonneau asked me what I wanted to do. I explained that I didn't want Bear put to sleep, but that I didn't think there was any alternative. The tumors were large, had been foul-smelling and bleeding for a long time, there were more of them, they were on his rectum, tail, and testicals, and he wasn't able to walk properly any more, and he was now not just experiencing a tolerable amount of discomfort, but also pain, and that I had to do what was best for him.

   He agreed, explained what was involved, and I held Bear's head in my arms and kept telling him that he was my best friend, that he was truly the finest dog in the world, and that I loved him so much, while Dr. Charbonneau and an assistant prepped him, and put him to sleep.

   They then gave me a chance to be alone for a few minutes to say my final good-byes.

I want to thank everyone who I talked to, both yesterday, and in the months leading up to yesterday. My friends have been understanding each time I call them up and tell them that Bear is dying and that he might not make it, because they know he was very sick, and how important a piece of my life he was and is. While all my friends loved Bear, special mention goes to my daughters Annie and Dena, to my sister Cathy and her husband Don, to Wilson and Cindy, and to Joe, and to my employer John and his wife Terri. They've all told me I did the right thing, and that nobody else would have given Bear the extra 2 years I gave him.

Also, thanks to Dr Dunbar, who helped give me the original Boots, and Dr Charbonneau, who helped Bear when he needed it most.

Thanks in no particular order to Annie, Dena, Tony, Ken and Sherry, Scott, Todd, Vicky, John, Joey, Samantha, Karen and Bernie, Wendy, Vivian, Bill, Mario, Wilson, Cindy, Nadia, Dolly, Nadila, John and Terri, Bobby, Dan, Moe, and everyone else who put up with me and my dog, and all the kids who played with Bear over the years, stuck their fingers up his nose, in his ears, or pulled his tail, and let him be the kind-hearted dog he was, and everyone else I'm just too overwhelmed to list here.

And finally, thanks to Bear - I love you, I miss you, you're the best, and I'll take care of Heidi for you.

- Tom Hudson
September 9th, 2004