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The family dog, Al, passed away this morning. He'd been suffering for the last few weeks, refusing to eat and barely able to walk. He wasn't the most exciting dog, but he was our dog. And we loved him.
Our family got Al along with his brother Will, another whippet, when I was very young in elementary school. I remember going with my mom and (I think) brother Russell to pick them out. Al was the dark spotted whippet and Will, my dog, was the lighter one. Their original names were Puppy-Puppy and Chomper, but Russell and I renamed them to Al and Will.
Some people thought we chose those names because at the time the President was William Clinton and vice president was Al Gore, but that was just a coincidence. I named my dog Will, because my mom had once remarked she thought William the Whippet had a nice ring to it. And Russell named his dog Al after his own middle name, Allen.
We used to let the dogs run in our field and play with them when we could, but sadly my dog Will passed away when I was still in elementary school. Both dogs had escaped the back yard and Will was struck by a car. That day my mom came to school to pick me up, I noticed her talking to my teacher and then she approached me with a calm kindness and I knew something was up.
"Did the cat die?" I asked her. (We'd recently acquired a stray cat, which happened when I was 10, so I must have been 10 at this time.)
I was wrong about the cat, but a pet had died. And my mom did everything she could to make it easy on me. She even took my to McDonalds for a McFlurry, which I'd been curious about.
That night I remember trying to play basketball with my close friend Brad Clark, and I remarked "I wish my dog were alive!"
He replied gingerly, "So do I."
And, for whatever reason, I got mad and said "No you don't!"
I still feel kind of bad about that.
The years went by and we still had Al, Russell's dog. From the scratch marks on the door to the big kennel in the house, there is a lot to remind us of him. And now, 12 years later, he died of old age, in our house. Russell was with him when he went -- just like he hoped to be.
And I'm proud of you, Russ. For taking it with dignity, compassion, and understanding.
And remember, Al isn't suffering anymore.
