Up to Eleven

Cleetus aka Cleete, Cleetie, Creebs, Creebus, Keeby, Biggins, Biggs, Scraps, and McCreeber (with accompanying song lyrics to the tune of McGruber).   I'm sure none of you want to read about a dog dying, but it's easier to write than it is to speak.

 "We never really own a dog as much as he owns us."

Gene Hill

I've loved Cleetus since he was six weeks old.  He was all chub.

All of his life, he loved to lie in the grass with his head tilted back and nose in the air smelling the breezes.  He went bonkers anytime breakfast or dinner was announced and ate as if he had never enjoyed a meal before.  And when he got excited, he wagged his whole butt.  

 

His favorite activity was smelling and he loved eating popcorn.  Even when getting up out of his chair caused discomfort, he would rally for popcorn.  He loved comfort and was especially fond of pillows.

For most of his life it was just the two of us.  With him, I shared my dinner plates, nap times, car rides (with french fries) and commentaries on everything.  With me, he shared his kisses, wiggles, toys, snuggles, crumb cleanup services ("scraps"), walks, and his whole heart.  

When we moved in with G and Bentley, he seemed reawakened.  I am so grateful for that. 

G and I learned to perfect the process of "Cleetie-proofing" the house before we would leave; otherwise, we would come home to a pair of freshly chewed eyeglasses, an empty trashbag (and its partially eaten remnants scattered about), a missing loaf of bread, and chewable DVD cases.

There were the then-upsetting-now-funny times when he conspired with Bentley to eat the Chinese food sitting on the kitchen counter (the white rice stuck to Bentley's chin was the only clue that it wasn't a one-dog operation) and when his instincts decided it a good idea to eat my chicken sandwich in two bites with the wrapper still on. 

He was the light in the window when we would pull up in the driveway.  Parting the curtains with his head, he would alert Bentley that we were home with his baritone barks. 

Always the protector, he once cornered a worker against the refrigerator because the guy came in through the back door willy nilly, startling Cleetus.  It was the only time I saw him truly aggressive, and it was of great comfort to know he had it in him. 

"One of the breed’s most notable characteristics is its desire for human affection, especially from children. They are patient and spirited with children, but also protective, making them a popular choice for families."

 

I'm so glad he didn't suffer through painful treatments or our selfish desire to prolong his life.  

His last day was a good one.  We spent time in the backyard soaking up the beautiful sunshine and 65-degree weather.  We recently got new furniture, but on Friday afternoon we swapped the new love-seat for his old chair (his chair is much lower and easier for him to get up), so that he could hang out with the family and not be stuck in the corner.   

Cleetus and "his chair" November 2005

G and I were a heap of tears in the waiting room on Friday night.  We knew it was bad.  But, I'm proud of us for pulling ourselves together enough as to not upset or scare Cleetus in his final moments.  I am most proud of the fact that the last words he heard were reminders of our love for him and his "good boy" status.   Our smells were his last.  And when he was gone, I missed him instantly.

I realize by now that most of my grieving isn't over his death -- it truly was time -- but by the loss of enthusiasm and love in our house.  Even Bentley feels grief.  He has been staring at the places he expects to see Cleetus and is just now starting to eat and potty again.  

G and I are trying to make new routines so that the old ones aren't devastating reminders.  Dinnertime and Bedtime are the worst as they were the times Cleetus was most excited.  

We look forward to adopting a new puppy, so that he or she can experience a good life, no matter how long that life is meant to last.  If you don't have a dog, then you're really missing out.  Our loss wouldn't be so painful if he hadn't been so wonderful.

He didn't quite make it chronologically, but in every other aspect, he went "up to eleven". 

2/25/2000 -- 2/18/2011

Cleetus P. Coltrane