Fluffy White Pork Chops

Mom was tired this morning. My coughing has kept us up for a few nights in a row. Every time she heard me gagging, she would bolt up and run to me, usually impaling herself on a discarded chew bone or bonking her shin on a chair before getting to me. On October 9th of this year, I received a diagnosis of spleen cancer, which has spread rapidly through my lymph nodes during the past two months. The nodes along my neck are swelling so large that I am having a hard time eating and sometimes when I cough too hard, I barf up what little I ate. In the last two months, I have been eating whatever I want. Even cat food! This morning Mom fixed me some hot dogs (my favorite) and sat with me, feeding me little pieces at a time until my tummy was about to explode. I waddled around the yard while Mom got her shit together. We loaded up in the car and headed down the road. As long as I can come along, I never care where we were going. I love the open road, the smell of the air, the wind flapping through my ears! I curled up on my squishy bed in the back, and dreamed of fluffy white pork chops that tasted like turkeys smell. Trust me, it’s a dog thing. I peeked my eyes open when I felt the car slow beneath me. I sighed an enormous sigh when I saw the big red letters that spelled _The lady that puts her finger in your butt, squirts you with cologne and makes you like it. _Guess it’s that time of year again. I saw a creepy guy come up to the car, and I growled, but Mom said the creeper was just Dad and she was right. The creeper who slid into the passenger seat smelled just like Dad. They talked and looked at me and I looked at them, wondering if I would get a cheeseburger after this visit. Mom opened the back door and bent over to leash me up. She didn’t look like she did a wonderful job of getting her shit together, but she smiled at me and led me out of the car. I made sure, as always, to pee on every single plant, bush, rock and tire on the way into the clinic. It is my mission to put a wee bit of pee on everything I see. See what I did there? Once inside, I sniffed around but didn’t pee on anything. I am fourteen years old and I have learned not to pee inside, at least not when the humans are watching. It freaks them out something terrible. “Dexter,” the upbeat nurse announced, and my mom’s eyes welled with tears as she escorted me to the scale. 39 pounds! Only I wasn’t surprised that I hadn’t lost any more weight. Hot dogs are the best! We all went into the room and the upbeat lady talked with Mom and Dad and then left. A not so upbeat lady came in and talked to Mom and then took my leash. I looked at Mom and she said it was okay, so away we went. I knew the pokey finger lady in an instant by her white coat. She looked in my eyes and mouth and felt around my neck while she talked to another lady who was moving a stick across the paper. I wondered what that stick tasted like. White coat lady pushed on my belly and I told her that hurt, so she stopped and said she was sorry. Stick lady put something on my nose that made a click sound behind my ears while the white coat lady stabbed me in the butt. It all happened lightening fast and before I knew it, the stick lady was leading me back to my Mom who was sitting on the floor waiting for me. I climbed up onto her lap and gave her snuggles. I looked up at her and was glad to see that it looked like she had finally got her shit together. She gently stroked my head and sang our “Who’s that sexy Dexy Oh!” (patent pending) song in my ear. I was so sleepy that I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Mom told me it was okay to close my eyes and get some rest. I woke up a little as Dad scooped me up into his arms and held me while Mom took off her light blue sweater and laid it on the table for me to lie on. She knows I don’t like to be cold. Dad laid me down on the table and Mom kept smoothing my dark brown fur and singing our song. The white coat lady came in and I tried to squish in my butt cheeks together, realizing she came to do what she forgot to do earlier but she just wanted to talk to Mom and Dad so I relaxed and drifted off once again to the land of fluffy white pork chops that taste like turkeys smell.

I have been owned by several dogs in my lifetime, but none have ever had my heart like Dexter did. I was applying for an animal control officer position at a shelter in Morristown, Tennessee; he was in their kill pen. I left jobless, but the proud owner of a 4-year-old mixed breed dog who was ecstatic to be leaving. Dexter was known to bite kids and had a deep-seated hatred of the UPS man. I once helplessly watched him attack a UPS truck head on and roll out the back end, only to right himself and chase after the same truck that had just ran him over. From there on out, I had to keep him away from those trucks for the safety of all involved. Dexter and I hiked thousands of miles together. My favorite was Cold Mountain. It took us forever to get back down and Dennis, who was worried, contacted the sheriff to check on us. We never saw the sheriff but man, were we glad to see the car after hiking for over 14 hours. He never complained once, but I sure did. Dexter mellowed with age enough to where I could take him to work with me. He was a staff favorite and a whore for belly rubs. He would pee on everything inside the shelter, much to the dismay of everyone who had to clean up after him. Dexter knew what I was going to do before I knew I was going to do it and he was always by my side. I am going to miss him and the way he would look at me with those eyebrows wagging, asking me if I’m ever going to get my shit together. I hoped his last day was as stress free as I have written because a peaceful death and freedom from the pain of cancer is the only way I could repay him for all that he gave to me. Farewell, my friend. I will see you on the flip side.