WORD COUNT: 454 words
JOURNALING:
Diamond came into mom’s life when he was a year old. At the time, she was going through a divorce and wanted a companion. I went with her to the City Animal Shelter to see what was available. We looked at all the dogs, and she kept going back to the kennel he was in. She was hesitant to take him out into the yard because he was such a big dog, but I told her that she keeps returning to him, so there isn’t any harm in walking outside with him. He had been turned into the shelter because he was “too much dog” for his owner. It was instant love for them both. Diamond was already his name, but mom rarely called him that. He was her “Boogie.”
Large dogs generally live shorter lifespans than small dogs, but Diamond was almost 18 when he died. The vet said he only lived that long because of the care mom gave him. He regularly went to the groomer until he could no longer get in and out of the car. As he aged, he developed anxiety, which caused him to pace, and severe arthritis in his hips. He would lose control of his bodily functions, but she never complained or scolded. He was her child, and she always put his needs, both physical and emotional, above her own. She would pay for vet visits before she would pay for her own medical care.
I have many stories about him that I could tell, including how I would sneak him KFC when mom wasn’t looking, or how Harrison would run up and down the house with him until Diamond could no longer run.
On the day Diamond died, he collapsed and went into a coma. Paul had to come over to get him into the car. Coincidentally, Darby was very ill, and I had to take her to the vet. It was Bennett’s birthday. As I was carrying Darby in, mom was coming out. She said Diamond never woke up, and she allowed the vet to put him to sleep. After it was over, I sat with them, stroking Diamond’s warm, soft head, and told him what a good boy he had always been. I asked mom to put her hand on him, so I could take this photo. I thought one day she would appreciate it.
Since he died, I’ve asked her twice if she wants to see the photo, and both times she told me she’s not ready. Mom had him cremated, and his ashes are in a beautiful repository. He still stays where he always did – by her bed. Thank you, Boogie, for the nearly 17 years of joy and love. We miss you.