This time of year causes most of us to reflect on our blessings, as well as our sorrows. For me, this time of year will forever be connected to Moose Chop. I wrote the following, almost a year ago, when we lost Moose. It is his story and a huge part of my life.
The Story of Moose Chop
Written January 14, 2007
Sometimes, the best things happen when you’re not looking for them or trying to make them happen. Sometimes, you and your (then) boyfriend are just driving down a South Jersey road talking about your best friends’ baby (whom you had just visited for the first time in the hospital) and you’re talking about life and friendship and…
Jay: “Oh my God!”
Me: “Is that a bunny rabbit?”
Jay: “I don’t know – I think it’s a dog!”
Me: “Really? Okay – I’m turning around!”
Jay: “Hey there, little girl, come here!”
It was December and Moose had been walking in the rain on a dark country road when we came along. No collar. Only a few teeth. Very skinny. HUGE tesitcles – definitely not a girl!
When Jay opened the door to my car, Moose jumped right in his lap like he had been waiting for us. We took him to my parents’ house, where my mom quickly fell in love. I remember the conversations.
Mom: “Oh – he looks so much like Pickles!”
The truth was that he looked nothing like Pickles (my childhood dog), but my mom had gotten so accustomed to seeing me with big dogs (Charlie and Aardvark), that Moose seemed to resemble all little dogs at that point.
Me: “I really don’t have any business adopting another dog”
Jay: “I don’t know… maybe he could stay with me. I’d have to talk to Bo and Gideon (roommates), but…”
Moose spent the weekend with us (at Jay’s), but on Monday, we did the responsible thing and called all of the shelters in South Jersey. Nobody had called looking for the little guy and given his health and age, they probably weren’t going to call. Secretly, we were hoping this was the case.
This is how Moose became part of the family. We took him to the vet, where Jay got his first chart as a “pet parent”. He was presumed to be about 10 years old. He had Lyme’s Disease, bad teeth and those huge testicles. We took care of him.
He lived with Jay in Highland Park, where he kindly slept on all of Jay’s papers as he studied for his qualifying exam. He stole salads and cheeseburgers off of his desk. He peed on me in dog parks, barked at the alarm clock and chased little red balls through the backyard.
He moved to the new house, where he was definitely King of the Castle. He rode around in the big truck like he was a God. He had poise and personality and a “tough guy” demeanor. He was our Moose Chop.
Through the years, things changed, the family grew. At one time, it was just Jay and Moose living in our house. Then came Jeter. Then came the Mama and Charlie and Aardvark. The changes didn’t seem to bother Moose.
He tried to get in my suitcase when I left for business trips. He became best friends with the Ass (a small, ceramic donkey statue in our yard c/o Grandma’ Marie and Grandpop George). He suffered through some bad hair cuts. Jay took him “swimming”. He slept on the couch, the chair, the bed, his bed(s), Charlie’s bed, etc. He ruled the roost.
When you love someone, you take care of them. Sometimes, you don’t even see or realize all you’ve done for them – it’s not really a conscious decision because it’s instinctual. Moose is having digestive problems? Okay, let’s get that low residue prescription food from the vet. Moose is having eye problems? We need more Optimune. Moose is drinking a lot – let’s put out two water bowls. Moose is having kidney problems? Pick up some of that other prescription food from the vet. “Oh – and pick up some more paper towels from the supermarket, we’re gonna’ have our fair share of pee to clean up!”
I appreciate all of the people who say that we are great parents. It feels wonderful to be recognized as such, but the reality is that our dogs are our children. If my child had allergies, I would treat them. If she had kidney disease, I would treat it. Our dogs are no different. When I take them into my house and assure them that they will be cared for, there is no limit to that. The deal does not say, “I will care for you until you become too big of an inconvenience, or you cost too much money”. The commitment is as strong as my love – endless.
So… when you have an old dog, you continue to follow-through with that commitment. When you get home from work, you will probably have to clean up a mess. You may have 5 different kinds of prescription food around to meet his appetite and prescriptive needs at any given time. You feed him with a syringe; you help him get out of corners and your rearrange your house, your life, to meet his new needs.
The difficulty comes in knowing, or understanding, when you have done all you can do. The bargaining begins, “If you eat this piece of pizza, I will buy you an entire pizza every day for the rest of your life”. The questions, “Doesn’t he know how much we love him?” The fear, “What if he is in pain?” The reality, “It’s his time”.
Moose left us yesterday. He left with strength, and courage and dignity. He was in our arms, surrounded by love.
Our house is empty without the pitter-patter of his tiny little Moose-feet. Our hearts are heavy. Aardvark knew when we left in the morning. He cried and cried when we were leaving. When we returned home, he went straight to Moose’s bed. He searched the whole house for his little buddy. It broke my heart.
We are all heartbroken. Moose’s empty beds. His food bowls. His collar. His smell. The empty spot between Jay and I in the bed, where Moose used to get on the Cuddle Train. Right now, these things are painful reminders of our loss. In time, they will serve to help us dive deep into memories and stories of Moose – the stories that will keep his spirit alive for the rest of our days.
Jay has said this many times, and he is right, “Four years just isn’t enough”. Finding Moose was one of the best things that happened to us. We just wish we had more time to spend together. More time for kisses, and cuddles, family vacations, etc. Just more time.
I know that Charlie is with him, showing him the ropes at the Rainbow Bridge, where Moose is running and playing – full of a youth that we never experienced with him. He can see, and hear and play! It comforts me to think of this.
