Seven years ago Hilda and I rescued the cutest beagle puppy we had ever seen from an irresponsible breeder who obviously had mistreated her. She was a gift from me to Tommy. Every man needs a dog.
She was very sick and it quickly became obvious to Tom and me that she had been abused, even at that young age. I had taken Hilda with me to help make sure I chose a healthy dog since I am the kind that will melt and bring home the sickest, saddest one of the bunch. Little did I know she was as tender-hearted as I was and so we took her home, the last puppy, but the sickest and saddest nonetheless.
Brandy never was your typical beagle. Yes she was a food hound, and yes, she had those eyes that made you want to give her the world, but she was afraid of guns and storms and hated the car and most anything else most beagles usually love. But we didn’t care. After she outgrew her chewing stage (when she ate a sofa, a chair and a wall) she became part of the family.
Tom and I have been separated for 4 months now and I have only seen brandy a couple of times during those months away. It always astounded me how she seemed to know who I was, even after all that time had passed, and that she seemed to forgive me for leaving her, only wanting to love me and show me how happy she was that I was “home”. I never could say goodbye to her properly when I left again, I could not stand to see her look at me with those questioning eyes, wondering when I would be home again and me not knowing if I ever would.
Brandy started having health problems a couple of months ago and, skipping all the medical stuff, had to be put down today, the cancer having taken over her emaciated shivering body.
She was very sick and in a lot of pain. She could not eat and so it was the only real choice. Tom and Hilda where with her at the vet and me? Well in Typical Diana form, I was not there when someone needed me.
It’s funny how religious we become in times of crisis. No atheists in foxholes, right? I am trying to take comfort thinking that she is with other dogs in a better place, eating nothing but chicken and chasing squirrels…two of her favorite things to do. Oh, and sneaking up on the sofa when she thinks no one is looking.
Brandy, we loved you. I hope you know that. We may have not been the best owners you could have had, but we loved you and cared for you the best we could and I hope wherever you are, you know that. I also hope you know that if it were at all possible I would have been there for you. As for me, I am going to remember you not as I last saw you, but how you were when you were happiest; half way up that tree at our house at the lake, trying once again to catch that darn squirrel.
