Our pal Brodie

Pat Fule
Fule for Thought

 

We had to put our 16 year old dog Brodie to sleep in June. If anyone would have told me how painful it would be, I’d never have believed them. To have a family companion like our brown and white little furball, was a great experience.
He had a patch over one eye, and he was (as the kids say) the most “chill” dog you could ever want. We picked him because the breeder told me she’d call us whenever she had a quiet pup. Quiet?
When all his brothers and sisters were yipping, yapping, and climbing over each other, Brodie crawled back into his kennel, to escape them!
“That’s the dog for us,” we exclaimed, and we took him home. That first night, he whined in his kennel next to our bed, and literally, all Debbie did, was pet him through the door and soothe him. He stopped whining and went to sleep for the whole night!
He never lasted long in the kennel, and he was an easy dog to house train. We put a wind chime on the patio door knob, and every time we took him out, we used his paw to ring the bell. Within no time, he had us trained! He would walk to the chimes, bat them with his paw, look back, and wait. Then he’d do his job (he did not care for being an outdoor dog), and slam against the door, looking to get back inside.
He loved our kids, but in a different way. He seemed to favour Brennen the most, and always went to him. Breanne would try her hardest to win him over, but Brennen was his Alpha, I guess. I told her, that to Brodie, she was another puppy, on his level, so he really was her little brother. Each night the kids alternated with Brodie on their beds. Breanne was always stressed on Sunday nights, as the school week loomed ahead. So … in typical sibling bargaining, she gave Brennen two nights with Brodie, so she could always have him Sunday nights. I can just imagine all the worries, hopes, and dreams that both kids told Brodie at bedtime. Dogs are good listeners.
Anyone who ever came to our house was Brodie’s friend. In no time, he’d hop on the couch, and nestle next to the new person. I don’t know if he thought he was welcoming them, or he just loved people, but he was our “welcome wagon.”
In fact, one of our friends, Sheldon even poured Brode a little beer for him in his dog dish. Brodie was really “one of the boys!”
I always took him for odd jobs like recycling. In the van, he’d ride on the console, and watch the world go by. In my Ranger truck, I’d leave him with the AC on, and he’d sit comfortably on its console. Each time I came out, he’d be in the very back, waiting patiently for my return. It took me a few times to realize that each time he sat there, he’d go too far back, the console would flip up … and launch him into the back!
Speaking of Brodie being launched, once when we were at Deb’s parents’ place, we went to a pub, and they dog sat. When we entered the house, he leaped off the bed to run and meet us at the top of the stairs. He wasn’t counting on my mother-in-law’s bra on the door knob! He hit it like a slingshot and with a “rawr,” the bra flung him back into the room!
In the last couple of years, as he aged, he really came to love Debbie. He’d lie at the bottom of the stairs so he could be with me in the family room, but always know where she was.
Often, he’d leave me to lie next to her in her office. In fact, he liked to be right under her feet on his bed. Then when he was sure she was headed to bed, he’d go up his dog stairs, and wait for her on our bed! He was quite the guy.
Having had a couple of heart attacks in front of us, we took our old friend to the vet each day for a week to try and save him. When he stopped eating, and had to be force fed yogurt, we knew it was time. The family gathered together for last snuggles, last photos, and last “I love yous.”
In fact, there’s a photo with Deb where Brodie is snuggled right into her shoulder. He looks so weak, but it’s like he’s looking for help, that it was all too much. The end was peaceful with everyone around him, and Debbie held his paw ‘til he was gone. To us, he was a family member, and we miss him every day.

 

(“Fule for Thought” is a slice of life humourous column that appears in the Strathmore Times, written by long-time resident, town councillor, high school teacher, coach, husband and father of two – Pat Fule. If you would like to get in touch with Pat, you can send him an e-mail at Pat.fule@shaw.ca)