Buster R.I.P October 1996-October 4th 2007
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| Buster and Pimp |
My dog died.
I sobbed.
I’d never sobbed before.
We got Buster in December 1996. I went with a friend to the Humane Society. The dog was to be a Xmas present to Kelly. I think it was December 16th. It would be nice to have a dog under the tree but that’s a pretty complex to do in reality. Anyway, we arrived and looked through in the room of orphaned dogs. I can’t remember why I went where I went, but I did. Maybe it was because they were all puppies. There were a gang of them. I didn’t know which one to choose but I saw that one seemed to be a bit more determined/aggressive than the others. Climbed over them to get food. I figured that was the one for us.
I can’t remember much about the first years with Buster other than I do remember crying one night. Buster—oh and the name Buster came because I loved Buster Keaton at the time and the dog kept bumping into things. So it made sense. Little did I know that this name would drive people crazy for the next eleven years. Even the day she died the nurse called Buster a ‘he’. People would sometimes ask why we gave a female a male name. I replied: “Who said Buster was a male name?— was a very active dog. We followed the ‘instructions’ for puppies and that included getting a cage. We were supposed to put her in the cage at night. I can’t remember why…maybe it was so she’d crap/pee in there and not around the house. But no…that wasn’t going to be Buster’s way. She would cry and bark in the cage even if we had it in our room. By day she destroyed everything, pissed and shit everywhere and I just remember crying one night asking myself what I had gotten us into. I must have been stressed about something else. Seems like a weird reason to cry. Then again, neither Jarvis or harry were after a difficult as Buster’s puppy years. Buster, in the first of many victories, got out of the cage. We pretty much tossed the thing away after six months. Sure she might pee at night but at least she’d sleep. Oh, and of course, she wanted to sleep with us. This was fine when she was a Pup but a real pain in the body (literally) when she grew to full size (70 pds or so).
One night I remember the shock of seeing Buster’s face swollen. We were always so damn scared when she got the slightest bit sick. It really brought pain. Not knowing what the fuck was going on we raced to the animal hospital (the same one where she would breathe her last breaths years later) worried that she was in grave danger. Fortunately it turned out that she’d just been bitten by a bug or spider. We gave her meds and she was a-okay. Typically Buster was the calm one the whole time. In hindsight her swelled up face was pretty damn funny.
The Squirrels
Squirrels. Buster’s main mission was to chase squirrels from our backyard. One day she actually caught one but the little thing bit Buster who turned around in fear. It still didn’t stop her. Like a human, dogs never learn from their mistakes. It was so sad the last few days when Buster didn’t even notice the squirrels. That being said, I’m amazed that she still had some energy just before her last few weak days to get all hot and bothered over them.
Now we imagine that either the squirrels are celebrating or maybe mourning Buster’s passing. Are they happy to be free of her or are they said that their life is just a little more emptier. Now they have no one to chase them, no one who cares about them.
I imagined the Squirrels reenacted a scene from The Birds. They are all gathered 50-60 of them on our backyard fence…there are more on the big window. It is quiet. Not a sound. Are they now coming in for the massive attack on us now that our protector is gone or are they gathering for a tribute to their beloved nemesis.
Two days ago Jarvis ran out the front door and chased a squirrel a way. He did it for Buster he said.
The Bed
Buster was not to go on the bed. That was the rule that never happened. First off, I liked snuggling with our furry dog in the winter. She’d always get under the sheets too with her head at the foot of the bed. Often she’d sleep between my legs –which got uncomfortable as she got bigger. When we had Jarvis and got a proper bed…we tried to put a stop to it. It was just getting harder to sleep. Buster would move through the night and she had this habit of lying down right into you. We tried for a while to keep her off, but smart dog that she was..she’d just wait till we were asleep and hop on the bed.
In her later years it became harder for her to jump on the bed. Everynight we had the same ritual with her. Like an airplane…Buster would walk into the hallway and then take a number of attempted takeoffs towards the bed. It would drive me nuts hearing her claws scrapping across the hardwood floor for 2-3-4-5 minutes at 2-3-4am in an attempt to make the proper takeover to launch herself on the bed.
In her last days she pretty much stopped trying. Instead she’d sleep on her sofa or grab a couch in the basement. I think finding a comfortable spot to sleep became increasingly difficult for her. She never seemed to remain in one spot. Sometimes it was the bedroom floor or Harry’s bed (which I slept in for a year while Kelly nursed Harry).
The Big Window
Her familiar place was in the front window of our living room. We have a huge window that overlooks our street. Buster loved to sit on a chair..later a automon and just watch the neighbourhood. Course, she didn’t just watched, she barked. Every person, dog, cat, squirrel, mailman…anyone who stepped anywhere near our property was barked at. Sometimes Buster went so nutty that she’s be clawing at the window. As annoying as this blistering bark was – there were many times when she scared the shit out of us and we yelled at her often to shut the fuck at up—which only made her bark louder cause she figured we were doing the same—she was a brilliant alarm. No one in their right mind would ever burgle our house. We didn’t even need one of those generic “beware of dog” signs cause anyone who even SAW the window HEARD the roar of Buster.
The Peeing Dog
Over time we had fewer people visit us. I think it was Buster. Despite her huge howls, Buster was in fact absolutely the gentlest most sucky dog around. In fact, she was so excited to have people visit us that she jumped them and then peed in front of their feet. We used to keep a towel near the door whenever someone came over. It was just expected that she’d pee. And that wasn’t all for the poor visitor. Buster stalked the guest for most of the visit. She’d go around to each guest and sniff, lick, and just get in their face…all for love. Amazing really. Sad in some way that Buster needed so much love. Maybe something bad happened to here in those six weeks of existence before we took her home. I was told that Buster and her siblings had been abandoned in a garbage can. Not a pleasant thing for a puppy. I wonder if she was separated from her mother too early. Perhaps this made her so insecure and hungry for love. Perhaps her neurosis just reflected Kelly and I. We definitely got the dog we deserved.
Jogging
Running off and getting lost from me but then coming back to the house on her own. I remember her just waiting by the door for us to come. She had been so scared that she lost us. Never stopped her from running off again and again though. Even in her last weeks she flee across to the neighbours.
When I took up running in 2001, Buster was my partner for the longest time. We’d run 7 miles, 3 times a week. It put her in great shape and I loved running with her. For a while she’d even run alongside me until they put a ban on having dogs off the leash.
Eventually we had to stop because Buster’s back legs became quite sore. After a run she’d hardly move for a day. I felt so bad. Maybe I’d overtaxed the poor thing
The Boys
Walks in the park with Jarvis as a baby. If any dog or person came even close to Jarvis’ stroller or carriage, Buster would go ballistic. Buster was so good with Jarvis and Harry. She was patient with them and let them fiddle with her tail and ears.
She loved the boys so much she’d even eat the shit out of their diapers…or off the floor. I do wonder if maybe eating diapers caused the stomach problem. Who knows what’s in those thins.
Trimming her nails
This was a fucking war man. The only time Buster got REALLY vicious and scary was when you tried to clip her nails (and if you tried to take her food while she was eating it but that’s normal for most dogs).
People made fun of me because for a time I carried around a picture of Buster in my wallet—but none of Kelly or Jarvis.
Hayden and Buster
A night after one of the festivals. 1998. Hayden, a friend, actually tongue kisses Buster in front of a group of us.
Otto and Bastard
My German friend Otto always called Buster Bastard.
Buster meets Harry Knuckles
During shooting of a short film, one of our friends, Phil, tossed Buster in the water. It traumatized her for life. We slept in a tent. Phil would wrap on the tent and drive Buster nuts. She’d scratch us up in her hazy dazy craze.
Buster and the Bat
We have had about 3-4 bats come into our house. One time- when I wasn’t around- Buster even bit a bat in the ass (or thereabouts)
Balloons
Hot air balloons drove Buster nuts. Each summer there would be a steady stream of balloons floating over our house. This would drive Buster crazy. She’d race around the house barking after them or run around the backyard trying to chase them.
The Mannings
Buster loved our neighbours. Tracy Anne often took Buster for walks. It got to the point where Buster offered TA and family the same bark she reserved only for us. That meant they were special. I’d always know when they were out front because Buster would bark her “they’re home bark’ for them.
When I started letting Buster roam around our street in the summer with another neighbour’s dog (Cheyenne), the first place Buster ran to was the Manning backyard. It really became a second comfort place for her. Not sure if they enjoyed having Buster leaves her goods in the yard though!
It amazes me that dogs can be both the brightest and stupidest of creatures.
July 2007
Every couple of weeks Buster is vomiting bile. I’m worried but don’t too much about it. In fact, it’s about 3-4 weeks before I finally go to the vet on August 10th. He is a kind man but very conservative. He doesn’t want to rush things or be aggressive. We will try a variety of things to see if it helps. First is a strict diet of boiled rice and chicken. If it’s a gas problem then this should help. It doesn’t. She vomits the rice on day 2. We bring her back 2 weeks later. This bothers me now. We were so busy with the festival. If we’d acted faster and more aggressively could we have gotten the tumor? Maybe not. Doubt lingers though. September 29th, I take her to the vet again. We tell the doc that the diet isn’t working. He gives us some laxatives…anything we can try. This doesn’t work. Monday we’re in for Xrays and blood work. That night we see the xrays. There is some kind of obstruction in the stomach area. They’ve even given her barium but this doesn’t flow through quickly. The vet is honest and caring. He admits he’s not an aggressive doctor that maybe someone else would have cut her open right away. But he feels that we might be able to find other options. He seems worried about us spending over $1000 only to have him find nothing or find an inoperable tumor. In hindsight I wish we’d been more aggressive. But maybe the vet knew deep down that it wasn’t a kid’s toy or a diaper in Buster’s stomach—as we thought it might be. It was typical of our life….of life in general. We were saddled between two possibilities: one absurd, the other tragic. A tumour or a toy.
Meantime her weight dropped from about 70 to 57 lbs in 10 days. That was alarming. Fat ass dog was now bone ass dog.
Monday night was tough. Buster had been sedated for the xrays and she was totally out of it. At one point I was convinced she was dead —-in fact it was a look that was not unlike her real deathface—she was just sitting, head hanging down a bit…eyes didn’t move. She didn’t move. I swear she was dead. She was just stoned though. Maybe she should have gone out stoned. The sedative really walloped her. I was sleeping all over the house that night because I was worried she might die and I didn’t want her to be alone.
Tuesday we got the blood results back. Everything was fine except her white blood cells. They were at 50,000. Norm is between 6-17,000. We brought her in again that day to get an injection of fluids and antibiotics. It was so strange seeing Buster not struggle so much as she used when we brought her to the vet. It was more uncomfortable for us especially when the nurse dropped the needle. We were pissed off. Then the intern went an injected the iron needle without waiting for the nurse’s go-ahead. Fuck…I thought…our dog is dying and you guys can’t do your job right.
We left the vet somewhat more hopeful. At least I was. But she didn’t seem to have much energy. Again, I stayed up most of the night with her, moving to whichever room she moved. She woke me in the basement around 4am. I woke up and walked to her stepping in liquid. I turned the light on to see that she’d peed and vomited again.
I swear there was blood in the vomit. I took her out to the backyard so she could pee. She had a quick piss and then just flopped on the grass. I couldn’t get her to come in. Finally I just left her there and went back to sleep. She stayed out there til about 6am when I came to bring her in. I hated leaving her alone out there.
Wednesday morning she seemed better. She wasn’t eating—not even the liquid food. We even managed to get the antibiotic tablets down her throat. Granted, I failed in my next two attempts and in fact when I tried to muzzle her she took a bite on the syringe that I was using to give her the pills. I was somewhat happy to see that she had her edge…but also told her…”I’m trying to save your fucking life Buster…please take the pills.” Blah blah blah. She went upstairs to mom in laws. That was a long walk up the stairs. She hadn’t done it in a while. So again I was hopeful that maybe she was taking a turn for the better. As the day went on she was basically the same… not really any steady improvement. Finally, I called Kelly and said…this is crazy..We have to act now. So I called the vet and said…let’s do the surgery. We have to put an end to this. Either it’s something we can do or it isn’t. But this guessing was driving us and her crazy. Buster was clearly in pain – the only sounds she made were slight wimpers – and we had to act. That afternoon she seemed somewhat more active again. She still lay in the warm backyard sun for long periods of time and even rolled onto her back like she used,soaking up the sun’s gentle warmth.
Later I brought her around the front. She was so weak that I could actually bring her out front with us and not tie her up. Dogs, squirrels and people marched by but Buster just sat there, too tired and maybe in too much pain to bother. What also bothered me was that she made no noises the last few days. Even when she flashed her fangs at me there was no growl, which was a mandatory accompaniment. That was heartbreaking. Perhaps the worst part was when our neighbour’s granddaughter Robin walked by. Now, Buster hated Robin. She barked and scratched at the windows anytime Robin walked by. It was crazy. We never understood it. Robin is sweet and gentle and friendly to Buster but… it didn’t matter. Untll her last day… Robin walked right by Buster—who was seating unleashed on the grass. Buster didn’t move. No reaction. That was the first image I’ll never forget. In fact, Robin was the last person –outside our family—to see Buster alive. At least they made peace—sort of. Buster seemed to be weakening but then Kelly and Jarvis arrived home and she actually got up to greet them and her tail was wagging—a sight we hadn’t see for a while. Again, I had hope.
Final Hours
After seeming in somewhat better spirits most of the day, Buster took a turn for the worst early in the evening. Her breathing was more rapid and she hardly seemed conscious. I tried to give her water but her head only fell into the water. I think the moment I knew this was going to be the last night was when I walked outside and looked in the backyard. In the darkness I saw Kelly sitting with Buster in a corner of the yard. She was sobbing heavy tears as she tried to make Buster comfortable. Kelly is not one to show a lot of emotion. That image will never leave me. It’s mine. Mine alone.
Last image
It couldn’t have been much worse. We wanted to put Buster down so she’d feel no more pain, but as we entered the room for the final farewell, she was struggling for breath…her tongue was extended in desperation and she fought such a fucking battle for each breath. It was classic Buster. She was defiant right to the end until finally she stopped—but we stopped her. Otherwise she would have gone on right down to the end. She did not look at rest after she was dead. Her eyes open. Her tongue flopped out of her mouth. The eyes haunt me. They were just empty. In a way they weren’t unlike how they’d been for much of the day. If I could just erase those last six hours it wouldn’t be so hard. But nothing was ever easy for Buster. Buster had so much love, so much of a desire to leave, breath and be. It just had to be the way she went. She had to fight right to the end. Going out gracefully or peacefully just wouldn’t have been our Buster.
That being said Buster also kept a lot of pain to herself. I think she was making it easier for us. She didn’t let on how bad her condition was
In her death though, she also brought our family so close together. We hugged and cried and laughed. We went to the beach. We escape the house and just spent time together, being together. Her death made us embrace life even tighter..reminded us to get on with it before IT wasn’t on anymore.
The flood of regrets.
Did we neglect her. There were fewer walks. Did we spend enough time? I yelled at her too much. I pushed her sometimes and smacked her. If I had done any of these things to a human, I’d never have been forgiven. Buster, like most dogs, let it slide.
God = Dog?
Was Buster a god? Are dogs gods? Isnt her indestructible love the essence of Christ, of God’s love, a completely selfless love that never stops giving.
We joked today that the thunder signaled Buster’s arrival in dog heaven. Her bark really was as startling as thunder.
Re-inventing
Today I completely rearranged our living room. I thought it would help me get rid of Buster’s ghost a little. Having spent so much time in this house with her…her presense is all over this house. Even though it wasn’t usually conscious, we see now how strongly connected with us she was. She remains in movements, sounds, words. It’s so eerily quiet in this house now. When I wake up I still walk to go and let her out. When we arrive home it is hardest because there is no annoying high pitched bark to greet us. Today Kelly and I hugged. It’s the first time we’ve been able to hug without Buster barking and jumping at us. Yes, Buster was the master of our house.
Moving the furniture hasn’t helped. But chance I am sitting now starting straight towards the big window. I moved Buster’s seat but now there’s are two chairs on the borders of where her chair was. So now this empty space sits there staring back at me. Another ghost. Another reminder. This time more potent than the empty seat. Maybe I wanted to sit this way, to replace Buster. I’d stare out the window now for her. I’d scare off the squirrels.
October 30th, 2007 at 11:38 am e
Thank you…………