05/12/99. R.I.P. my friend.

I've been debating doing this one for quite sometime, but upon looking at something the other day, I decided that there was no better time to go ahead and do it than now.  If you look over the contract we have with this blog, you will see that I never promised that every blog I do will be hilarious and carefree.  In fact, there are probably going to be times that I will be down right depressing depending on my mood.  I don't think I've strayed too far from the funny, but this "Puke". . . . I'm doing it for myself. 

Some of you might stop reading when you see that it's not about something funny and some of you might continue to read it and think to yourself, "Self.  Scott is a sissy to even be writing this.   Where is his man card."  If so, so be it, but know that I will "return to my roots" after I get this one out of my head and on to this blog and will give you something to laugh about.  Like I said though, this one is for me, but you are more than welcome to come along with me on this memory.  Maybe some of you will be able to relate and maybe some of you will shed a tear and share your own memory with me.   Let's load up the sad train and head out on this latest journey.

May 5th, 1999 marks one of the saddest days that I have ever had in my 42 years on this planet.  It's a day that has left a mark on me and a day that even now, when looking back, it doesn't take much for me get that lump in my throat.  (This is where I'm going to lose some of you)  That was the day that I took my beloved dog to the vet to have him put to sleep.  Now instead of rushing to the end though, this is going to be like one of those movies that show you the end at the beginning, but then fade back to the beginning to see how we got there. Let me paint the entire picture though on just who that dog was to me.

(Insert fuzzy memory sequence)

Growing up, there were two major goals I had set aside for me as a child.  #1.  Was live in Florida and #2. Own an English Bulldog.  I know, I kind of didn't set the bar very high, but like I said, I was a kid.  So upon making it to Florida in 1992, I realized that I might be able to hit that other goal given the right searching and income tax check.  I didn't realize how expensive those dogs were as a child, so I had to plan that step out a little better once I realized what I was asking for. 

Jump roughly two years later, and I was able to achieve that goal.  On April 6th, 1994, there was a litter of 5 little English Bulldog puppies brought into this world and after a lead given to me, I was on my way up to take a look at them.  I think we all know that the worst thing you can EVER do is say that you are going to just "GO LOOK" at a puppy.  I'm willing to bet that 9 out of 10 times, your butt ends up buying that puppy because who can turn down that puppy smell and cuteness overload?  Well I was no different.  Once I picked up that little white bulldog, I knew that he was going to be mine.  I looked into his eyes and he looked back at me like, "DUDE.  Where have you been all my life?  Can I call you Daddy now?"  $800 later, and he was MINE!!!!

Let me branch off and say right now that I have never had my own children, so this was the closest thing I've ever come to that whole "parent/child" bonding moment.  He was mine and I was his immediately.  The worst part was walking away from him right then because he was only four weeks old at the time and I would still have to wait four more until I could pick him up and bring him home.  That sucked, but we were able to figure out his name and after one call to the breeder,  my child now had a name.    He looked like such a little brute and we all came up with only one name that would fit for him. . . . . . .KONG!!!!  On his AKC papers, he became known as Sir Kong from Sebring.

I waited out the LONG four weeks until we could go back and get him and as luck has it, I wasn't able to go get him on that day because of work, but my girlfriend at the time went up and got him for me.  When she brought him back to me, I couldn't believe how much he had grown in those four weeks.  He fit in one hand when we went and looked at him, but now, I had to use two hands to hold the little turd.  I took him in my arms and snuffled with him.  What is snuffled you might ask?  It the term I call sticking my face up his, forehead to forehead, and just smelling him in.   Sometimes he would bless me with a wet snort, and sometimes he would lick me.   I would snuffle with him all the time because he was my kid and I was his Daddy.  (Wonder how many of you I just lost there)

I had my boy and we were it.  He was pretty much my child from that moment on and we were inseparable.  Kong and me, me and Kong.  The white English Bulldog that I always wanted and he had such a personality.  He was like a big kid running around and I was right there with him.  The term  "Man's Best Friend" couldn't fit him any better and I was "Dog's Best Friend" to him.   For those of you that have ever had a dog that you love like that, you know exactly what I'm talking about.  If you haven't ever felt that bond, then I can't help you with that.  Go buy a dog so you can experience it. 

I could always count on a few things with Kong.  #1.  He was going to sit there while I ate and drool.  #2.  He would follow me around the house just to be around me.  #3.  He loved to wrestle and so did I.  That's the reason I liked his size so much.  He was roughly 70 lbs. of muscle and it was like petting a horse.  I couldn't have a little yipper dog because I would go to play with it and end up throwing it 20 ft. on accident.  #4.  He would snore.  Which that was truly adorable. and #5.  If you were new to my house. . . .you were going to get humped.  More on that later though.

Kong wasn't a barker.  In fact, the first time he barked, he looked at me scared as if to say, "There's a dog in the house Daddy.  I just heard him bark.  Hold ME!!!"  He also did the same thing the first time he farted, but I told him that I wasn't going to hold him and in fact, it was him and not me for a change.  He was becoming just like me.     Sniff. . . .Sniff. . . . They grow up to soon.

I can remember thinking I was going to lose him as a puppy though, because I came home from the store, and he had decided to eat one of my CD's.  That's right.  He used my Kiss CD as a chew toy and devoured most of it.  All I could think was it cutting up his insides and him dying from that, but nothing happened, but I do think his poop had reflective properties for a day or two though.  OUCH!!!!

The only flaw that Kong had was the whole humping thing.  I don't know what was up with the little turd, but if you came over to my house, you were going to get greeted in two ways.  The first was me saying hello to you and the second was Kong trying to say hello to your leg.  This had to be the horniest dog that I ever have been around, and being that he was a big dog, it looked like a prison scene on a couple instances.  My brother-in-law had a "moment" the first time he met Kong, and it became one of my favorites. 

I was visiting my folks and Kong was out on the Lanai (porch).  I told my brother-in-law to come out and meet Kong, so he came out and Kong was very cool about it at first.  Now Kong's toy was there, a rope with a knot in it,  and I told him to throw it so Kong could go get it.  My brother-in-law threw the toy, and Kong took about three steps towards the toy  then realized that he hadn't really "Greeted" my brother-in-law properly yet.  So he spun around in a flash, jumped up, and latched himself on to his leg and began to do the "Red Rocket Shuffle".  My brother-in-law let out a yelp as Kong wrapped his front legs around his and went to town.  My brother-in-law just kept yelling, "WHAT IS HE DOING???  WHAT IS HE DOING???"   Well this led me to bust out laughing, like I am right now, and when I grabbed Kong's collar and pulled him off, the second my brother-in-law turned to get inside, Kong yanked, and being that I was laughing so hard, I couldn't hold him.  What happened next was the icing on the cake.  My brother-in-law was at the glass sliding door to head in, when Kong got him from behind.  This led to my brother-in-law being pinned against the glass doors as Kong did the "Humpty Dance".   To make matters worse, my sister and my two nephews were just inside the doors, so they had a front row view of the action.  All they could see was my brother-in-law pushed against the glass screaming, "GET HIM OFF ME.  GET HIM OFF ME."  I was on my knees just picturing the trauma my nephews were witness too, but I was also laughing so hard that it took all my strength to get him off my brother-in-law.  Once off him, my brother-in-law ran inside looking like a rape victim.  He spun around and looked at me and his attacker and all he could say was, "I feel so violated."  

I could tell you story after story of what a great dog he was and how he just made me smile, but I really just want you to know that he was truly one of those dogs that was human to me.  He was my kid and I hope some of you have had the pleasure of having a pet that fit this description.  There is nothing as great as a dog, or cat, that loves you unconditionally.  They put their trust in you and you are the center of their world.  Sure, they mainly want food, but they also want affection, attention, love, and snuffles.  That's why what comes next is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do in my life.

I had noticed lumps in his neck one day while petting him and they just didn't feel right.  I took him to the vet and after a full check-up,  the vet had me feel all his lymph nodes and pointed out that all of them were swollen which meant only one thing.  My greatest fear materialized and they announced that Kong had Lymphoma and that it was all through his little body.  He was only 5 years old and having to face this with my "kid" was not something I was ready for.   He was too young for this.  They offered a treatment program that would prolong his life by about a year or so, but would make him sick most the time.  It was expensive and I couldn't see spending that much money and not doing much more than just keeping him alive for my sake and not his.  The vet told me that he would progressively get worse and I would know when it was time to "put him down", how I hated those words when it came out of his mouth.  This was my kid he was talking about.

Well I took him home and sure enough, he did progressively get worse.  He began by slowly losing weight and not having an appetite.  It was hard to watch because this was the dog that I came home one day to find out he devoured an entire un-opened bag of Oreo's while I was gone.  All that was left was the plastic and black specks all over the carpet from the party that he had.  He just looked at me like he wanted to know if I had anymore.  LITTLE TURD!!!!  I was looking forward to those Oreo's.

I really can't remember how quick he went down hill, but I was being a selfish person by ignoring what I knew I was going to have to do.  I couldn't face knowing that I was going to have to be the one to take him to a place and not return with him.  I was going to have to say goodbye to him soon and I wasn't ready to say goodbye.   The worse and worse he got, I just kept telling myself that he was still strong and I didn't have to do anything yet.  I would get so angry about it that I wanted to just reach down and snap his neck to make it all stop, but I could never do that.  I wrestled with having someone else take him to "put him down", but I couldn't let anyone but me do it.  After all, I was his Daddy.

The day finally came when I came home and looked at him and he told me through his eyes, "Daddy.  It's time.  I don't feel well.  Please put me out of my misery."  He had lost a ton of weight and his eyes were starting to get cloudy from the white blood cells freaking out in his body.  He didn't look like himself anymore, but he was still my baby, and I still didn't want to do this.  I took a deep breath and loading him in the car for his final car trip.  I just laid my hand on him the whole way to the vet and told him how much I loved him and that it was going to be okay.  The tears were now flowing heavy, but I think he was at peace with it.

I took him inside, and they knew why I was there so they let me walk him right back to the room and the vet came in right away.  Through my tears, I managed to tell her that I wanted to put him out of his misery.  She asked me if I wanted to be in there when they did it, and for a brief second, I wanted to run, but I wasn't about to let him go through this alone.  I told her I would stay and she explained what would happen.  I never understood what they did when they "put a dog to sleep", and she told me that they would give him an overdose that would quietly let him die.  She explained that it was a very peaceful thing and that he would feel no pain.

She let me hold him while she injected him and all I could do was snuffle with him though tears and tell him, "Thank you for being such a good dog and goodbye."  I felt him slowly relax and then I felt him go to sleep.  This was when I knew that he was gone.  She checked his heart and confirmed it.  I laid him down on the table and just stared at his now limp body and all I could do was cry.  My child was gone, but I was so glad I stayed because it was one of the most peaceful things I could imagine and I was there for him.

I slowly walked out of that room and to the front counter where they asked me what I wanted to do with the body.  I decided to have him cremated so I could have his ashes.  They sit in a small little urn on a shelf in my family room with a french fry in it in case he gets hungry.  I drove home and the only thing I could do was listen to Peter Gabriel's song "I Grieve" over and over and wept.  This was truly a day of despair for me.

It was a long, long time ago and I hate to admit it, but I cried while writing this blog because it still hurts and I miss him so much.   He was my kid, my child, my baby, and my friend and I will never forget him.  So when I get to heaven one day and  the pearly gates are opened and Kong comes rushing out to greet me, I can't wait for St. Peter to tell me about the first time he was "greeted" by Kong.  Then me and him will go find the Oreo bar and have a feast.   I love you boy!!!!!  Rest in Peace. 

Smile!!!