Custard's Dash

Custard
2001-2011

I've read before about how important the dash is.  That the year you were born and the year you die is of very little consequence.  It's the dash that means the most.  What you did, how you lived.  Who you were.

Custard was born on November 28, 2001.  We picked him up the day after we returned from our honeymoon, when he was almost 3 months old.  Literally, he was a part of our married life from Day One.

Custard was the epitome of the yellow lab stereotype.  He was so friendly, so easy to train.  He was loyal and unendingly loving.  He was brilliant with our children.  They could crawl on him, pull his ears, accidentally step on him; he returned it all with a wagging tail, a nose in the face, and more and more love.  Custard brought them delight and laughter and loving attention.  Hands down, he was the best dog I've ever had.  Jmk will tell you the same thing.

As much as I loved and cared about that dog of ours, Custard was Jmk's boy.  Custard would do anything for me, but Jmk was the one to whom Custard truly followed and respected and submitted.  I could literally say "Daddy's home, you better go get on your pillow".  And that dog, who had driven me batty being everywhere but on his pillow, would instantly go to his pillow and practically shiver with excitement that Jmk was about to walk through the door.

A couple of years ago, my sweet, golden-eyed kitty cat ran away.  Now, I'm not going to lie and tell you that it didn't hurt.  But, honestly, with a 2 month old baby, two other kids, and the confusion of what happened to her sort of cushioned that blow.  I realize that she probably ran away because she knew that she was very sick.  And that's just what cats do.  I didn't realize at the time what a burden she lifted from us when she did that.

A couple of months ago, we began a process of vet visits with Custard that ultimately ended with the realization that he didn't have much longer with us.  The tragedy of it, for us, was that we were faced with the most difficult choice that pet owners have to make:  Let him die naturally through terrible circumstances which would completely belie the amount of goodness he had in him,  or be merciful.  The latter broke our hearts in a way that we were not prepared for.

Eighteen days before his 10th birthday, we buried our friend, our companion, our sweet dog.  We had a hard time breathing for the next couple of days.  And we cried a lot.  And now we can breathe again.  And though we are able to maintain our composure when we look at the backyard, our hearts feel a literal pain when we instinctively look to see if he's ready to come inside at night.  The children are blessedly resilient and are already asking if they can get a new puppy.  I'm so glad for their desire to have another dog, and we recognize this as their need to fill the hole that Cus's death has left in the family.  We're not ready yet, but we will be one day.

Good dogs show you the type of unconditional love that we all strive to give, albeit precious few of us actually manage to get there.  Custard was the epitome of unconditional love even as he couldn't eat, struggled to stand, and had to breathe through a fluid-filled lung cavity.  Even though he suffered, he still loved us and used all his energy to show us how great HE thought WE were.

And we love him.  We always will.

His dash changed us.  And we thank God for giving us the blessing of a Simply Good Dog.