Bentley.

Thoughts on a Good Dog.

I remember that first day. The day when he became ours. I’ll never forget the pained expressions on the faces of the two college students who stood inside the doorway of a rundown pet shop and asked if we could take their puppy to be sold. Their only other option was the animal shelter. I could tell that they loved him, however short their time with him may have been. He was an 8-week-old mix, Border collie and black lab. The couple was well-prepared with shot records and explained that the puppy had already been seen by a veterinarian for his first round of shots. As I listened to their plea and took in the sight of this adorable dog, I made a decision. I knew the pet shop owner would not agree to accept a random, mixed-breed puppy, so I did. As the couple handed the puppy over to me, they hesitated. “We named him Bentley, if you want to call him that.” Bentley – I liked the sound of it. And as quickly as they came, they were gone, and I was left holding a furry life-changer in my arms. Looking back, I’d like to step in on that very moment, smile at that 20-year-old girl and her new puppy, and tell her she has no idea what she just did for herself and her future family, but it is going to be good.

My manager kind of rolled his eyes at this whole scenario, but agreed to place Bentley in a doggie gate in the back room of the store for the remainder of my shift. Within 30 seconds, my little guy discovered an escape route.  I will never forget turning around from the front counter to see him sprinting toward us. After about the third attempt at keeping my pup in the back, my manager grabbed a leash and allowed him to stay at the front, with me. I remember feeling so much excitement and pride when I told curious customers that Bentley was not for sale, he was mine. Unfortunately, I was living on a college campus at the time, but knew deep within my heart that Bentley was meant to be ours. So, I bought all of the necessary puppy gear and headed to Sean’s apartment, where we waited anxiously for him to return from a late shift at work.

I was absolutely giddy waiting for that door knob to turn. And when Sean finally did walk through the door, I’ll never forget the first words he spoke. “What is that?”  Surprise! As I turned to look at what our new baby boy was doing, I saw him squatting and peeing on Sean’s carpet. It was an introduction to be remembered. In no time, Bentley was asleep in Sean’s arms, finally resting after what must have been an exhausting day. This was the beginning of an incredible bond that would grow steadily over the years into a friendship like no other.

Those first weeks, we felt like new parents. We held Bentley like a newborn baby, wrapped in a blanket. We took him with us wherever we could. I loved holding him as he fell asleep, just like a baby, to the gentle sounds and movements of the car. We even snuck him along for a weekend beach trip that included elevator rides within the no-dogs-allowed hotel. He stayed tucked inside my over-sized beach bag until we reached the safety of the sand. And when we moved back home from college, Sean’s mom was kind enough to give him a place to live. He quickly became an important part of our families’ lives as well, and we loved him dearly.

Those first few weeks turned to months, and those months gave way to major puppy growth. Bentley was soon weighing in at around 60 pounds, and shedding what seemed to be about that weight in black fur. Eventually, we moved from our parents’ homes into our own and began yet another chapter of our story. Bentley had an amazing temperament and a joyful doggie personality. He loved us so much. There was never a day in over a decade that we didn’t feel unconditionally loved by our boy.

He was there by my side as I addressed wedding invitations, and was waiting when we returned from our honeymoon.

He was there as my body grew a tiny human being – twice – and welcomed both little ones with curiosity and gentleness when we brought them home from the hospital.

The biggest and most important events of our lives include him. The most devastating and painful moments of our lives include him. The most exciting and the most confusing, the good and the bad, the new houses and the new jobs… We always had a safe, furry place to wrap our arms.

Bentley just was. Even on those days when I barely had the energy or the time to pat his head, he was there loving me. When we took him for granted, when we forgot to feed him breakfast, when we got so wrapped up in the busyness and exhaustion that parenting brings, there he was, loving us. To simply say he was a special dog just won’t do. He was much, much more than that. He was, and will always be, a piece of my heart. Bentley is woven into who we are as a family.

He was gentle eyes and a fluffy, curled tail; lover of ball-throwing, bubble-popping, and a good, long brushing. Even in his senior years, he would become puppy-like at the sight of snow falling in the winter and a water hose spraying in the summer. He enjoyed rolling on his back in the thick, grassy patches of the backyard and turned into a bouncy, happy boy when we said the word “walk”.

He smiled. He hugged. He nuzzled his face into our necks. He was patient, tolerant of small hands yanking fur, and couldn’t stand for us to cry. After a difficult surgery to remove a large tumor from his elbow, and an equally difficult recovery, we cherished him more than ever before. We began to realize how fragile he was in his old age, but still believed there were years of memory-making and neck-nuzzling ahead. This was not to be. Just a few months after his surgery, in mid-September, Bentley fractured his shoulder jumping off of the couch, and the rest feels like a cruel, blurry nightmare.

Bone cancer. Chemotherapy. 6 months. Amputation. Cancer. Cancer. Cancer.

These were not words I ever wanted to hear while discussing our boy. These were words that shook us and ripped at our hearts. He had already overcome the removal of a cancerous tumor. We had just seen x-rays and had the blood tests done. We saved him, didn’t we?  How, so shortly after all of that, could this be?

Over the past few months, as fall becomes winter and a new year begins, I’ve tried to process my grief and talk myself into accepting the ending of Bentley’s story. I take time to relive that day sometimes, but those final hours break me and I feel heartache that seizes my entire being. We chose to let him go and a part of me wants to go back to that moment and say NO. I want to take my dog home and love him more and feel his warmth and lay my head on his chest so I can listen to his heartbeat for just a little longer.

It was the hardest decision Sean and I have ever made, but I believe with all my heart that letting him go was the greatest act of love we could have shown him in the end. He didn’t deserve any more pain. He deserved freedom. And his story doesn’t end where he took his final breath.

Our angel boy fell asleep as we whispered that we loved him through our tears. He then lifted away from his earthly existence and returned to a heavenly one. He was no doubt welcomed home with open arms, having greatly succeeded in making our part of the world a better, brighter, more beautiful place. The secret of his existence is this: it may appear to an outsider that he was just another dog who needed a home, but the truth of the matter is that we, his people, needed him more. He was a gift, one that will never stop giving as we look back at our journey together. And he will live on in those pieces of our hearts that he stole on that very first day.

Bentley "BB" Vaughan

March 18, 2004 - September 14, 2015