I had this awesome post all planned out about my new computer and all the cool things I was going to do with the photography thing. I was on cloud nine from our trip this weekend and picking up my shiny new iMac Monday morning, but then I received a phone call that devastated me. It was a phone call I was expecting, but was not prepared for.
Three years ago we made what, at the time, was not really a tough decision for us. We gave our yellow lab to some friends from church, sent him "to the farm", per say. Emmy was for whatever reason hysterically frightened of dogs at that time(not because of anything he did), and he was just too big for our situation. It wasn't fair for him to be locked in the garage or in the backyard all the time, and we just weren't giving him the attention he needed. We had him for his whole life, picking him out from his litter when he was no bigger than the size of our palms. He looked like a little pig. But we knew he was going somewhere better, after all, he would have five acres, a creek, and three kids to keep him busy.
Angela called me yesterday, and my heart sank. My mom had spoke to her the day before about how she wasn't sure Hunter was doing so well. He made a turn for the worse, and the vet told them there was nothing more they could do. His belly and lungs were filling with fluid, and his heart and kidneys were failing. They were going to put him to sleep at 6:00 that evening. I got off the phone and started crying. I went downstairs and told Russ what had happened. He was at the vet clinic just down the street, and we opted to go see him one last time. He looked awful, like one of those cows you see in India who were malnourished. He is naturally a thin, tall breed of lab, but he had stopped eating two days before, and all the fluid in his belly just drug his skin around his bones to make him look even worse. We had not seen him for three years, but in spite of all that had transpired the past few days, he still had that crazy, puppy gleam in his eyes. He never knew his age, and up until his last month, anyone with a stick would have to look out! I cried through our whole visit with him. The hardest thing I ever had to do was tell our 8-year-old daughter that he was gone. She was so mad at us for giving him away, and even more mad that we had not taken her to see him again before he died as we had promised to do.
I layed in bed last night and just cried remembering all the crazy things that dog did when he was little (and even when he was not-so-little). I had read the book "Marley, a dog like no other" about a year ago and cried through the whole thing. We watched the movie "Marley and Me", the movie based off that book, and my whole family cried in the living room like babies. We kept commenting on how much like that Hunter that dog was. He was a such a crazy dog!
*I remember getting the phone call that Hunter's litter was born. We were on our way to Arizona to visit my grandma, and we were being stealth about the whole thing since it was Russ's birthday present.
*I remember taking a blindfolded Russ on his birthday to see the litter of pups and pick one out. They looked like little pigs.
*I remember how we picked his name. Russ was coming up with all these crazy "firefighter-themed" names. We had already bought him a leash and collar. They were Hunter green. His official AKC registered name was "Blindfaith's Fire-Hunter".
*The first night we got him, no one warned us that it would be like having a newborn baby with them being up all hours of the night. It only took two hours for us to give in and let him sleep with us. He peed the bed that night.
*I would come home from work every night to a very clean smelling puppy. Russ would be exhausted in the recliner. He came home from work every night to a "chocolate lab". Also, no one told us puppies bladders and bowels were the size of cherry tomatoes.
*I remember coming home late one evening and having this overwhelming feeling we would be greeted at the door. We were. Hunter Houdinid himself out of his crate and tore the place up. Literally.
*I remember taking him swimming for the first time at Homer Lake. He loved swimming. My mom was so scared he would drown or go too far out in the lake, she made us keep him on one of those long 20-foot tie-out chains so we could pull him in if he got too far out.
*We bought him all these fancy toys and his favorite thing was an old log Russ gave him from the yard that he chewed all the bark off of.
*I thought we would never be able to teach that dog the proper way to fetch. He fetched great, it was the bringing it back he wasn't so good at. He finally got the hang of it, and would fetch any time, day or night.
*I will never forget that last fetch Russ played with him and his slobbery tennis ball in the yard the night he went to live with his new family.
*Our old house was on the parade route in Tolono. Some friends came to watch the parade. Their kids wanted to play with Hunter in the backyard. Hunter had this habit of walking through your legs when he greeted you (Russ would knock him around with his knees playing with him), so that carried over with everyone. He walked through the 8-year-old boys legs just as his sister through a stick. I laughed hysterically watching that kid ride Hunter like a horse down the porch steps and through the back yard.
*I remember how angry Russ was when he chewed the leg on his family heirloom, claw-foot table.
*I never worried about Hunter being around kids. I was more worried of what he would do around adults. He was so gentle with Faith when she was little.
*I remember realizing it was no longer fair to him to keep him with us when he could enjoy being with others so much more.
There are so much more I could list, but quite frankly, I'm exhausted. I can't believe I am so sad over a dog we had let go of three years ago. But when you raise a dog from a puppy for eight years of his life, they tend to stick to you, no matter what. I think I can safely say will never again have another lab, at least not until our kids are old enough to care for them themselves or we have five acres, but I am so glad for all the years we did have with him. I'm glad he was a good dog for our friends and their kids, and I'm so sorry for their loss as well. We'll miss you Hunter, you crazy stick-lovin' dog!
Hunter and Shaiyanne, after a hard days work driving us crazy.
Hunter on his first trip to Homer Lake. He loved getting sticks!
Hunter's bed...aka...our bed.....
Eating grass. He would later throw it up all over the carpet.
What ball?
One of his favorite things to do, chase Russ, and give Jake a run for his money.
Testing his boundaries. He wasn't allowed in the living room on the living room carpet due to his overwhelming habit it being naughty.
