How do I begin this? How do I even begin writing this farewell letter to you my dear boy? As part of my grieving and part of the healing, I need to write these thoughts.
Beans – since you have been gone, we could not stop ourselves from crying. You left a gaping hole in my heart that would not cease from pining for you. Everyday is a struggle, and every recollection I have of you during the last few days, had to be categorized with a painful operative word….”last…”
This meant last car ride, last newspaper change, last vitamin, last medicine, last gulp of water… what a painful word…. LAST. How do we recover from what was taken from us? It gives us comfort knowing that you did not suffer as much. Yet when we recall the events, pain would eventually grip through our hearts.
You came into my life as a birthday gift in 2005. I never had my own dog before ( but growing up, we had several dogs in the family)…much more a Labrador so it was a mixture of trepidation and excitement that we took you and drove all the way to Laguna. I could still remember the L300 cab started smelling bad because you pooped as we were passing through the Ayala tunnel toward Magallanes.
Beans I will never forget how you ferociously ate your food as if you were afraid that there wont be any left for you. I coaxed you and told you that you do not need to eat like someone who was deprived, and you slowly realized that there was no need for such behavior, and you became gentle and more mannerly when you eat.
I will never forget how you would not give up in retrieving the ABSOLUTE water gallon which at that time was way bigger than you. What a retriever spirit! You wanted to work hard and that was what you did. Clanging and banging, you pulled that big bottle even though it was bigger than your body.
Beans do you remember how challenging it was to teach you to go to your house? You just wanted to sleep by our door and it took several days of pulling and tugging… until one night, as if the stars aligned themselves, you just immediately went to your house.
And how you chewed the doors, hinges, plants, rocks and almost anything your powerful teeth could hold on to. Your teeth were growing and you basically chewed up everything.
So many memories of FETCH. And how you would drop anything and everything just to retrieve a tennis ball. When we lived in Laguna and I would throw and bounce off the ball on the wall, and how you would catch the ball and it would make a big snapping sound as it landed straight inside your mouth. How we would play for more than 30 mins and my arms would be tired from throwing those tennis balls that were already soaked with your saliva… and you would be huffing and puffing and would try to rest and have a drink for a little while before you give me your “let’s go again!” look.
How can we move on Beans?
How can we move on when I will always remember…
1. How you would sneak inside the house and try to be as quiet as possible. Always waiting for Toepy to get out and then you will sneak right in. You will lay quietly inside but your deep breathing would always give you away.
2. How you would lean outside our window as if begging for us to let you in… and you would run right away toward the door when you sensed that I was going to let you in.
3. Beans you were so good natured that I could just really disturb you while you eat. Ask you to raise your legs, scratch your tummy and you would not mind at all. I can even touch your food and hand them to you…. you were such a good natured dog.
4. In 2007 on our way to the summer camp, Mom had to drive so I could settle you at the back of the car. You gave me hell. You stepped on all possible areas of my body and would not settle down at all. I was already covered in your black fur. In my desperation I said ‘God please tell Beans to relax… so we could have a peaceful drive..” Lo and behold, you stopped and just settled down. You listened to God… and since then we had no problem driving with you inside the car.
5. For 4 years you were with us the summer camps. Your barks and your running and playing fetch had become all familiar fixtures at camp. I did not worry about you at all because you were kind and had a tender heart. Last saturday night, I got an sms from someone who used to be so afraid of big dogs… but you gently coaxed her and you let her approach you.. and she said you were the very first big dog that she was able to touch.
6. I remember how some of the staff would want to have their pictures with you – and I would give them your leash and you would just patiently stand next to them for a picture.
7. During the hot summer days and nights, you would always jump into your bath tub and you loved it there. I will always remember your look of awesome labrador contentment as you settle in with the water reaching almost to your chin.
8. There was a time when you howled for help when I got locked inside the bathroom. You sensed from the outside that I was trapped and could not get out. I called out to you and just like in the movies said “Get help Beans, get help..” and you howled and howled…. I was so amazed at how well we can communicate with you.
9. I still see your muscular body running through the soccer field of LBA. When we would go for evening walks and when we would take a breather by the benches, how you would climb up and would want to sit not right next to me, but on me.
10. In LBA one afternoon, there were a dozen Korean young people who wanted to pet you… and they started walking toward you, excitedly talking in Korean. You gave this loud bark that stopped them in their tracks.. and I said “sorry, my labrador is not feeling friendly today…”
11. Beans the image of you playing with Peanut is indelibly etched in my mind. How you would be playing a tug of war with the small feisty one and at times, Peanut would be off her feet because you were shaking your head left and right , sending Peanut flying to the air.
12. Beans – you loved life. You always were in a good mood. A better mood when we were around. Everyday is a fetch day. Everyday is always a good day to chew at the bone, to walk in the park, to pee on somebody else’s tires and everyday is a good day to bark and chase the cat.
13. I remember taking you the vet for your surgery because of your aural hematoma. How you hated the Elizabethan collar and because of the surgery, it limited your movement. You would collide just about against everything. And we would come home to see your collar ripped off in different directions and I had no alternative but to use duct tape to secure your collar. I remember how you would yield everytime I look at your ears and use the betadine to clean it up. I remember how many times I would ice your ear and I would instruct you to lay on one side so I can just put the pack of ice on your ear. You would stay just like that for more than 30 minutes. You somehow understood that it was for your ear and you had to be still.
14. Beans thank you for listening to me as I poured out my heart to you in grief during Christmas of 2008. I climbed in your dog house and just sat there with you and you just let me stay there until 2 am.
15. Beans I remember how you would press your body parallel to the door of your house so I could pet you goodnight.
16. I miss calling you by your special name… Beanchie-boy… and how I would add Beanchie-kukuy ne… and you would put your head on my hand for another pat or stroke.
17. Beans I miss those short car rides with you. You learned to put your front paws on the elbow rest… so your big head is almost directly next to my shoulder. You would at times lean toward my shoulder.. and I would always tell wifey that you would always do that in the car. I would put my right hand up and arch my hand and that was your signal to approach so you could put your big head under that arched hand…. I miss those times Beans.
18. I miss those times when you would be sleeping underneath the car and as soon as I open the door, you would squirm your way out to come near me. Instead of just going around… you would rather squirm forward so that I could caress your tummy or give you an ear rub.
19. Beans you made us feel secure. Your loud and strong barks are enough to warn off strangers. Even the two dogs of the neighbors are still afraid when I open the gate because we sure did teach those two mongrels not to mess with you.
20. Wifey would always tell me that whenever you ere inside the house, you would always look at me because I was your “person”. I did not notice this until only recently. We were in San Mateo because you were going to do a stud-service… and the family wanted to see you first. After the initial introduction, you were such a show-off and did some of those tricks like sit, down, get chains and all that. They were very impressed with you…. BUT, one thing that impressed them the most was when the lady said “Your dog has not taken his eyes off you…” and I looked, you were obediently sitting.. but your eyes never left me. There we were surrounded by strangers and you were telling them who owns you. You were telling them that you belong to me. I could not have been prouder!
21. My only REGRET in this whole ordeal was sending you back to the vet that did the surgery on you. I took you there in good faith.. for observation… for 3 days. I could only imagine how miserable you were. When I saw you on Friday evening… you were hardly showing any signs of improvement and your eyes were getting covered with discharge. You did not look good. I did not have any sleep that night as I was searching online. Wifey woke up to see my distressed look and I told her that I was so worried about you.
Beans you were feeling really weak, yet you knew I was taking you home. You stood up and let me guide you to the car and you hopped in…
We took you to UP VET MED TRAINING HOSPITAL and you were very weak. You got out of the car and let me guide you into the building but you peed, pooed and then you vomitted. Very critical signs.
Beans a couple of hours later and we had a more complete picture. You were dying. Your creatinine levels were at 5.6 The doctors hinted that the prognosis was not good. I was crying. Mom was crying… it broke our heart to see our playful, active and fun-loving labrador reduced to just laying on the floor.
I made arrangements for your confinement on Tuesday because they could only do confinements from tuesday to Saturday. How I wished I had heard about UP VET MED TRAINING HOSPITAL. I should have brought you there after your surgery. I am so sorry.
As we were about to take you home, your head started to shake… and one of the vet students started crying… because her father who passed away a couple of months ago from renal failure also exhibited the same thing. Seizure was a guaranteed warning that we are heading towards the end.
We took you home. Seated at the back seat, we smelled death. You were dying right next to us. When we got home we could not take you in right away because we had to figure out how to take you out. I let you stay in the car for awhile so you could get rested some more. I kept on checking on you.. and noticed how you were urinating more frequently… after awhile we started to move you and as I was getting ready to pick you up, you hopped out of the car… your legs were wobbly.. and I knew you did it for me…. You took care of business first and then we went inside. We could really see the change in your expression. You were happy to be home. I coaxed to get down so you could rest some more and you did.. and in minutes, your head started to shake feverishly. We started to cry because it seemed like you will not make it anymore. Toxins are spreading faster than we initially thought.
In our tears, we made that most difficult decision to put you to sleep the following day. No, we wanted to end your misery that night so I made some phone calls as we looked at the directory for veterinarians. NONE. We could not get anyone.
I tearfully drove away and felt led to this veterinary clinic. It was already closed for that day but the light was still on. I approached the sliding glass door and motioned to the person inside that I just wanted to ask something.
With the arrangements done, I headed home – driving through the rain and through the tears. There you were inside the house – very still and very quiet.
I watched over you through the night. Changed the newspapers, wiped your face, body and legs every time you peed on the floor and assured you that it was okay for you to do that. It was the most terrible night in recent months. I kept on calling your name and asking you those questions using my baby-talk tone with you. At about 3 am, you had a long seizure… and at one point, you looked up to me as if asking what was happening.
I cradled your head and just whispered words to you until the shaking ended. It was horrifying….
Beans… the picture of your head on my left knee will always be with me. Riding in the car on our way to the vet was a very painful thing to go through. Even LM could not contain the tears.
Beans you have been loved. I said my goodbyes to you and the vets started crying too. I was there when they injected the medicine that put you to sleep. I asked for another vial to make sure that you are sleeping much deeply. I touched your head for the last time and whispered thank you….
Buddy, I could not bear to see the needle piercing your heart so I stepped out of the room. We were crying. And in a moment, we smelled the burning of incense…. you were gone. The vets burned incense and I took that to mean, an acknowledgment that someone who was loved so much had passed.
They called us in and there you were… sleeping deeply.
Lifelessly.
The grave was already dugged up when we arrived there. LM and Henry gently took you out of the bags and laid you inside the rectangular hole. I quietly took the spade and mustered the courage to move the soil to cover you.
Gently I covered your legs, then you body and lastly your head. Part of me was screaming inside because of utter shock and disbelief. This beautiful dog, my Sgt Beans, my Beanchie-boy is gone. We put the white roses on top of the soil that covered you and I struggled to pray through the tears.
In my prayer I thanked God for you. I thanked God for the privilege of taking care of you. For the many moments by which you showed us what unconditional love was all about. For your loyalty and your desire to just be with us and to please us. Thank you for your love.
We have been crying since we buried you.
I know it will be better but I am not in a hurry to be in that place.
We miss you terribly and there are many things that remind us of you.
I open the gate with a bent key because of that time when you pulled me so hard while I was inserting the key into the keyhole.
I clean the garage floor now and there’s hardly any black fur left.
I have not cleaned the dirt marks you left on the wall.
Instinctively every morning, I would look underneath the car - but now all I see is an empty space where you had lain before…. no more Sgt Beans squirming his way toward me for a morning hug or tummy rub.
The toys you had left, the unused medical supplies, medicines and other things used to help you heal from your surgical wounds….
It will be awhile my dear boy.
So for the last time, let me ask you the questions I had done a million times with you…
“Who is my Beanchie koy-koy ne?”
Who is the best big boy?
Who’s my boy? Who’s my boy that I love so much?”
It is you…. It is you……
My dear Sgt Beans , it was you.
Thank you for everything.
Thank you for the privilege of loving you.
Thank you for the privilege of being loved by you.
See you soon.
I love you my big boy.
Wait for me and we’ll cross the Rainbow Bridge.
Together….
