Monday, December 17, 2007

Bob Barker, The Venerated Elder of The Chow Nation, is going to go live with Santa. While I am deeply sad about the separation, I know he will have a good life with Santa as his life here has detriorated to joyless interims of wakeful unrest. He can't see, he can't hear, his rear legs don't work anymore and he is rail thin, probably with very brittle bones. Bob has welcomed me home for over 20 years, barking when my car hit the bottom of the driveway saying, Hey! I missed you! You're back! He was there when I came through the door from my mother's funeral and from the hospital where my dad died in my arms. He was there for the pool parties, birthdays, graduations, Thanksgivings, Christmases, Easters and Halloweens. As The Chows played, he would stand by at a close distance and bark, calling the play by play. No matter who came and who left, Bob stayed with me and is the one thing that has remained constant in my life. So he goes now to a better life, a life that he fully and richly deserves. If I live simply and with a pure heart, someday maybe I'll get to go live with Santa, too, but until that time comes, I will cherish our memories together and the good life we had raising those kids of ours. Eugene O'Neill opened my heart and helped me live fully in the pain and joy of saying goodbye with this tribute to his own dog:


The Last Will and Testament of An Extremely Distinguished Dog

I, Silverdene Emblem O'Neill (familiarly known to my family,
friends and acquaintances as Blemie), because the
burden of my years is heavy upon me, and I realize the end of my
life is near, do hereby bury my last will and
testament in the mind of my Master. He will not know it is there
until I am dead. Then, remembering me in his
loneliness, he will suddenly know of this testament, and I ask
him then to inscribe it as a memorial to me.
I have little in the way of material things to leave. Dogs are
wiser than men. They do not set great store upon
things. They do not waste their time hoarding property. They do
not ruin their sleep worrying about objects they
have, and to obtain the objects they have not. There is nothing
of value I have to bequeath except my love and
my faith. These I leave to those who have loved me, to my Master
and Mistress, who I know will mourn me most,
to Freeman who has been so good to me, to Cyn and Roy and Willie
and Naomi and - but if I should list all those
who have loved me it would force my Master to write a book.
Perhaps it is in vain of me to boast when I am so
near death, which returns all beasts and vanities to dust, but I
have always been an extremely lovable dog.
I ask my Master and Mistress to remember me always, but not to
grieve for me too long. In my life I have tried to
be a comfort to them in time of sorrow, and a reason for added
joy in their happiness. It is painful for me to think
that even in death I should cause them pain. Let them remember
that while no dog has ever had a happier life (and
this I owe to their love and care for me), now that I have grown
blind and deaf and lame, and even my sense of
smell fails me so that a rabbit could be right under my nose and
I might not know, my pride has sunk to a sick,
bewildered humiliation. I feel life is taunting me with having
over lingered my welcome. It is time I said good-by,
before I become too sick a burden on myself and on those who love
me.

It will be sorrow to leave them, but not a
sorrow to die. Dogs do not fear death as men do. We accept it as
part of life, not as something alien and terrible
which destroys life. What may come after death, who knows? I
would like to believe with those of my fellow
Dalmatians who are devout Mohammedans, that there is a Paradise
where one is always young and
full-bladdered; here all the day one dillies and dallies with an
amorous multitude of houris, beautifully spotted;
where jack-rabbits that run fast but not too fast (like the
houris) are as the sands of the desert; where each blissful
hour is mealtime; where in long evenings there are a million
fireplaces with logs forever burning and one curls
oneself up and blinks into the flames and nods and dreams,
remembering the old brave days on earth, and the
love of one's Master and Mistress.
I am afraid this is too much for even such a dog as I am to
expect. But peace, at least, is certain. Peace and long
rest for weary old heart and head and limbs, and eternal sleeps
in the earth I have loved so well. Perhaps, after all,this is best.
One last request I earnestly make. I have heard my Mistress say,
'When Blemie dies we must never have another
dog. I love him so much I could never love another one.' Now I
would ask her, for love of me, to have another. It
would be a poor tribute to my memory never to have a dog again.
What I would like to feel is that, having once
had me in the family, now she cannot live without a dog! I have
never had a narrow jealous spirit. I have always
held that most dogs are good (and one cat, the black one I have
permitted to share the living-room rug during the
evenings, whose affection I have tolerated in a kindly spirit,
and in rare sentimental moods, even reciprocated a
trifle). Some dogs, of course, are better than others.
Dalmatians, naturally, as everyone knows, are best.
So I suggest a Dalmatian as my successor. He can hardly be as
well bred, or as well mannered or as distinguished
and handsome as I was in my prime. My Master and Mistress must
not ask the impossible. But he will do his
best, I am sure, and even his inevitable defects will help by
comparison to keep my memory green. To him I
bequeath my collar and leash and my overcoat and raincoat, made
to order in 1929 at Hermes in Paris. He can
never wear them with the distinction I did, walking around the
Place Vendome, or later along Park Avenue, all
eyes fixed on me in admiration; but again I am sure he will do
his utmost not to appear a mere gauche provincial
dog. Here on the ranch, he may prove himself quite worthy of
comparison, in some respects. He will, I presume,
come closer to jackrabbits than I have been able to in recent
years. And, for all his faults, I hereby wish him the
happiness I know will be his in my old home.
One last word of farewell, Dear Master and Mistress. Whenever you
visit my grave, say to yourselves with regret
but also with happiness in your hearts at the remembrance of my
long happy life with you: 'here lies one who
loved us and whom we loved.' No matter how deep my sleep I shall
hear you, and not all the power of death can
keep my spirit from wagging a grateful
tail.
JBelle
Bellemaison
The 'Kan EWA

11 comments:

toadman said...

Sadness at the loss of a friend, yet happiness at a good life long-lived, I send you.

Gail said...

Condolences on the loss of your adorable chow. We're getting close to that with our Sami. She can't see or hear, but at least she can walk and smell ham.

the psycho therapist said...

Wow, I've never come across that amazing tribute by O'Neill. I love his work--he is a master craftsman sculpting the clay of human emotion. Thank you for printing this piece.

Think of me what you will but in my Tao you and Bob will be together again. I sense our Beloved animal friends' souls travel the same frequencies as our own and are as loving and loyal disincarnate as they were while incarnate.

How lucky you were to have had years of love and companionship--presence--with this being. He has been a wonderful friend and I am certain his passing will be deeply felt.

I Know he will always love you and I Know this is mutual.

Pass in peace, Bob Barker. Your "Mistress" deems it so.

*hugs to you, Schmeebs

--

ThomG said...

Through the tears I type, my heart breaking for you, for your loss. Through the tears I smile at the thought of your memories and joy. I Celebrate Bob this day. I grieve for you.

Julie said...

I feel your loss and know that in time, the memories will outweigh and Bob Barker will be remembered with the fondness you always felt for him, only deeper.

JeanC said...

It is so sad when we lose one of our furbabies. They always give such love and joy and they always leave a hole shaped like them when it is time for them to leave. But they know we loved them and they know we will always do the best for them when the time comes.

Bob Barker knows he was loved.

Rainbow Bridge

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

Author unknown...

Kerri Thoreson said...

Ms. JBelle, I feel your pain. I still think of my sweet Miss Scarlett every day although it's been almost two months since she went to doggy heaven (which I think is pretty close to where Santa lives, too) Please ask Bob to look her up. She's the one in the rhinestone collar, with a pretty pink blanket, a Taco Bell dog toy and plenty of biscuits to share with new friends.
Hugs, Kerri

Word Tosser said...

Losing our furry babies is hard for us mere humans. So as Bob's tail lifts high, with ears perk, as he recognizes some who have passed, he is free to run.
So hugs as you know he is doing well now, and some times we wonder, do we take care of them, or do they take care of us.

MarmiteToasty said...

(((JBelle and Bob)))) x

Inland Empire Girl said...

My heart hurts for you as you say good-bye to Bob Barker. What a good life he has had. You will have such memories to reflect on.

The Fool said...

My heart goes out to you, Cheech. Dog's certainly have soul, and your tribute to Bob's soul is most touching. He certainly touched you.

Many blessings to you, Cheech. Take care.