I write this in tears...
I write this in a state of mourning for my 13 year-old collie, Byron. We put him to sleep yesterday. He died in his home, in our arms. The pain of guilt and the feeling of an incredibly large void in my life have me constantly battling against the feeling that nothing really matters. In time I will get over this but it is what I feel now. Byron was born on a farm in central Virginia in 1999. He was considered the runt of the litter but you would never have known it from his size and stamina. We moved him down to Alabama before he had turned 1. He had loads of energy and curiosity as a puppy, and he gives my wife and I several laughs as we recall the memories of this time.
The Case of the Fallen Objects
One such memory involves the mystery of the falling objects. We had a cat, Chloe, for about a year before we got Byron. We came home from work for several days in a row in our first apartment to find objects knocked to the floor that were supposed to be on the fireplace mantel. My wife, accustomed to cats, accused Byron and I, likewise, accused Chloe. We setup a camera to determine which was the culprit. Sure enough, my wife was right. We saw Byron gently stretch and place his front paws on the mantel, nosing around in curiosity. During his investigations he would occasionally, accidentally, knock some object off the shelf. My wife was proud that she was right but while we were talking the tape played on to reveal Chloe intentionally pushing objects off of it, ...intentionally!!!
In Byron's early adolescent years we adopted a rescued puppy from a dog-fighting mill. This dog, Dickens, is part lab, retriever and chow. Obviously they each had their own personalities. Byron was considered the academic to Dickens's athlete. Even the choice of toys was different. Byron preferred a rope toy, something that he could bring to us or Dickens to engage with. Dickens preferred stuffed animals that he could privately tear into. They both complemented each other. We went to a parade with trucks, floats and mules. Dickens was engrossed in the parade but was untrusting/fearful of the mules and chose to watch from behind our backs. Ummm, under the car behind our backs... This while Byron was up in front very excited to see the mules and trying hard to get their attention, an act that Dickens surely despised. Byron's excitement actually brought people out of the parade to pet him and love on him a little.
Jailbreaker...
In a separate story, Byron and Dickens would often be placed in a run together when occasionally being boarded at the vet. The vet assistants knew the dogs on sight and were always loving on them, which in turn meant the dogs enjoyed the experience as well. During one particular stay the assistants were finding loose dogs in the boarding room in the morning. Somehow the gates on many of the runs were not being secured and the dogs would get out and spend the night in semi-freedom within this large room. After coming to work and finding this situation on the second morning, the assistants decided they would setup a sting to find who or what was responsible for leaving the gates unsecured. To their amazement they found that Byron was actually nosing at the latch on his run he shared with Dickens. He was able to open the gate, and would then proceed to unlock certain other gates giving those dogs their freedom as well. While he was out playing with his newly freed friends, Dickens was still back in his run, deep in the cage that he was sharing with Byron, looking guilty as though he was trying to convince Byron that they shouldn't be doing this. We were shocked but very proud upon hearing this from the vet assistants. They started using ties on the gates after that.
Byron was always a very empathetic dog. If you were upset about something he would come to you, sit and stare into your eyes. If you were angry he would come to you, sit and stare into your eyes with a guilty look in his. If he was caught doing something he knew he shouldn't, no matter how angry you were, he would come to you, sit and stare into your eyes with a guilty look and drooping ears. Most interesting of all, if Dickens was doing something wrong and was actually getting away with it, Byron would come to you, sit and stare into your eyes with a somewhat guilty look. I was never quite sure if he was telling me that something bad had happened but he was not involved, or if he was just getting back at Dickens because Dickens was more successful at sneaking about. Regardless, you could always count on Byron being by your side. Even on camping trips, Dickens would be leading the group but Byron would be running up and down the group ensuring that no one was left behind. There were several times when I would intentionally drop off from the group and hide behind a tree. Within a minute Byron would be running back down the trail we had just come up looking for me. If I wasn't on the trail, Byron would expand his search radius several yards into the trees and brush on either side. When he found me he would position himself between me and the group to show me the direction I had to go to catch up. While catching up he would run between me and the tail end of the group until all were united again.
In Byron's final year his back legs were giving out on him. He was unable to navigate stairs and was constantly calling on us to help him up. In the end he was falling while relieving himself. But he was still there, by your side, if he could be, with those eyes, those large beautiful brown knowing eyes. Byron was put to sleep at approximately 9:15 am on Thursday, May 24, 2012.
Dickens is now going through the mourning process along with us. We had him present during Byron's final moments. Dickens positioned himself between my wife and I, resting his head on my leg. Dickens always enjoyed going for a long walk or hike. Now he doesn't want to leave sight of the house.
I write this in a state of mourning for my 13 year-old collie, Byron. We put him to sleep yesterday. He died in his home, in our arms. The pain of guilt and the feeling of an incredibly large void in my life have me constantly battling against the feeling that nothing really matters. In time I will get over this but it is what I feel now. Byron was born on a farm in central Virginia in 1999. He was considered the runt of the litter but you would never have known it from his size and stamina. We moved him down to Alabama before he had turned 1. He had loads of energy and curiosity as a puppy, and he gives my wife and I several laughs as we recall the memories of this time.
The Case of the Fallen Objects
One such memory involves the mystery of the falling objects. We had a cat, Chloe, for about a year before we got Byron. We came home from work for several days in a row in our first apartment to find objects knocked to the floor that were supposed to be on the fireplace mantel. My wife, accustomed to cats, accused Byron and I, likewise, accused Chloe. We setup a camera to determine which was the culprit. Sure enough, my wife was right. We saw Byron gently stretch and place his front paws on the mantel, nosing around in curiosity. During his investigations he would occasionally, accidentally, knock some object off the shelf. My wife was proud that she was right but while we were talking the tape played on to reveal Chloe intentionally pushing objects off of it, ...intentionally!!!
 |
| Byron and Chloe ca. 1999 |
In Byron's early adolescent years we adopted a rescued puppy from a dog-fighting mill. This dog, Dickens, is part lab, retriever and chow. Obviously they each had their own personalities. Byron was considered the academic to Dickens's athlete. Even the choice of toys was different. Byron preferred a rope toy, something that he could bring to us or Dickens to engage with. Dickens preferred stuffed animals that he could privately tear into. They both complemented each other. We went to a parade with trucks, floats and mules. Dickens was engrossed in the parade but was untrusting/fearful of the mules and chose to watch from behind our backs. Ummm, under the car behind our backs... This while Byron was up in front very excited to see the mules and trying hard to get their attention, an act that Dickens surely despised. Byron's excitement actually brought people out of the parade to pet him and love on him a little.
Jailbreaker...
In a separate story, Byron and Dickens would often be placed in a run together when occasionally being boarded at the vet. The vet assistants knew the dogs on sight and were always loving on them, which in turn meant the dogs enjoyed the experience as well. During one particular stay the assistants were finding loose dogs in the boarding room in the morning. Somehow the gates on many of the runs were not being secured and the dogs would get out and spend the night in semi-freedom within this large room. After coming to work and finding this situation on the second morning, the assistants decided they would setup a sting to find who or what was responsible for leaving the gates unsecured. To their amazement they found that Byron was actually nosing at the latch on his run he shared with Dickens. He was able to open the gate, and would then proceed to unlock certain other gates giving those dogs their freedom as well. While he was out playing with his newly freed friends, Dickens was still back in his run, deep in the cage that he was sharing with Byron, looking guilty as though he was trying to convince Byron that they shouldn't be doing this. We were shocked but very proud upon hearing this from the vet assistants. They started using ties on the gates after that.
 |
| Byron and Dickens ca. 2009 |
Byron was always a very empathetic dog. If you were upset about something he would come to you, sit and stare into your eyes. If you were angry he would come to you, sit and stare into your eyes with a guilty look in his. If he was caught doing something he knew he shouldn't, no matter how angry you were, he would come to you, sit and stare into your eyes with a guilty look and drooping ears. Most interesting of all, if Dickens was doing something wrong and was actually getting away with it, Byron would come to you, sit and stare into your eyes with a somewhat guilty look. I was never quite sure if he was telling me that something bad had happened but he was not involved, or if he was just getting back at Dickens because Dickens was more successful at sneaking about. Regardless, you could always count on Byron being by your side. Even on camping trips, Dickens would be leading the group but Byron would be running up and down the group ensuring that no one was left behind. There were several times when I would intentionally drop off from the group and hide behind a tree. Within a minute Byron would be running back down the trail we had just come up looking for me. If I wasn't on the trail, Byron would expand his search radius several yards into the trees and brush on either side. When he found me he would position himself between me and the group to show me the direction I had to go to catch up. While catching up he would run between me and the tail end of the group until all were united again.
 |
| Byron, Dickens, nose smudges, ...and those eyes (ca. 2007). |
Dickens is now going through the mourning process along with us. We had him present during Byron's final moments. Dickens positioned himself between my wife and I, resting his head on my leg. Dickens always enjoyed going for a long walk or hike. Now he doesn't want to leave sight of the house.
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