42,038 Memories: Ode to our Beau – Part III of Beau’s journey

To read part 2 of the Beau Series: Sleeping with Darth Vader, click here

Beau was our full-blooded Boxer however, we never had him registered.  We didn’t care about paperwork or someone telling us he was special.  Beau was the king in our castle and in our hearts.  My son (10 years old at the time) dubbed him his full-unregistered name as Beauregard Stormy Doughnut Schnautz.

Beau lived approximately 12.5 years, which equates to almost 91 in human years so he had an exceptionally long and quality life for a boxer. Working through the tears and collecting all the things that were a part of his life invoked hundreds of memories.  My fear is that as time goes on, I would forget so I wanted to document them.  I also wanted to share with others as they may have similar experiences.  I hope you enjoy the following memories of Beau, as many of you have been a part of his life as well.

Having him curled up on the rug in my bathroom through every shower or bath for the past 12.5 years  = 4,563 memories

Sharing my green smoothies every morning.  Sharing my mid morning fruit snack. I’ve not eaten an apple by myself for the past 3 years since I’ve worked from home.  We always shared our food.  Sharing my lunch and sometimes even dinner = 17,520 memories

Running to the laundry room each day that I would leave the house because he trained us to give him a treat before we left.  Happy Hips, hormone/antibiotic free jerky was his favorite. 4,380 memories.

Alvin and I taking him for a walk in one of the parks most every weekend and letting him run leash-free through the grass.  The protocol was to unclip his leash and Alvin/dad would exclaim, “Go on, and get out of here!”  Beau would take off and run like a wild and free dog! Well, it was only a few hundred yards and then he’d stop to turn around to ensure we were still within his view.  Our favorite places were the 4-H Fair grounds where we would play hide and seek.  We would hide behind the trees or equipment and see if he could find us. Of course, he always did and then we would run and hide somewhere else.

Up until the past couple years, he was able to scale the playground slide (yes, he would climb the ladder) and slide down.  The kids and parent’s were just amazed that he could do this and he loved it. He loved the slide and the attention.  624 memories.

Every Sunday after we returned from church he would start crying with anticipation because he knew it was time to go to Grandma’s.  Grandma had two things Beau loved, treats and his “girlfriend” Summer (her Boxer).   624 memories.

Sitting in “his” chair waiting for Alvin to come home from work.  He knew exactly when to start looking out the window to watch for his dad. 3,120 memories.

Beau verbally greeting my clients with his howling, yowling talk that told me he knew these folks and they were considered friends. The new ones would get the standard “I don’t know you and I’m not sure of you yet” bark. 3,120 memories.

During the last year when it was too hard to jump up in our bed, he would cry to see if we would get out of bed and lift him in (all 80 pounds).  Alvin and I would play the “don’t make eye contact” game in hopes that he would give up and just lay on the floor or would try to jump up.  We had enabled him in so many ways; we knew this would be a bad habit to start. Catalina, our Siamese, would also get in on the game by sitting right where he would jump on.  Beau was too much of a gentleman to bowl her over but would cry until she would move or what was more likely to happen is that I would have to physically move her.  1,095 memories.

Having to spell “Walk” when if we mentioned the word, Beau would start crying and almost screaming, jumping up and down to go out.  He ended up learning W-A-L-K and we had to shorten it to “W” then finally put our walking shoes on because he was SO impatient!  Walking him through the neighborhood was always an adventure.  If people were in their yard or sitting on their porch, he wanted to go say hi to everyone.  He couldn’t understand and didn’t like it when people ignored him.  And if he knew someone was watching, he’d pick up the leash and show off by “walking himself.”   1,800 memories.

I remember him sitting on the couch (yes, we condoned bad behavior) between my brother and brother-in-law as they were conversing.  He would turn his head side to side as each of them spoke like he was acknowledging their conversation.  My brother exclaimed, “my gosh, I really think this dog is human and understands what we are saying”.  It really was scary, as he did seem to “speak” to us with his expressions.  Something he only did with Alvin and I was this little head nod.  We were never completely sure what it meant but it almost carried a tone of extreme attitude of “I run this place and I don’t want you to forget it.”  The sad truth was, he did.  Alvin always said if you could go to jail for over indulging your pets, we’d be in prison for life.  1 memory.

One day I had left the house and had a bag of dried beans on the counter.  I questioned if my sister had taken them as she has stopped in while I was out and I knew right where I left them.  Well, I believe Beau was a bit miffed for me leaving and I found them hidden under the cushion of his chair.  1 memory.

Then there was the time I was working with a client and I could see Beau pick up a computer lap station in his mouth and place it on the floor.  It was in his way on his chair.  I had to stop and gasp and I wasn’t sure I believe what I just witnessed!  He usually his big head to move things around but this time he carefully picked it up off the chair and gently placed it on the floor.  Please don’t tell me dogs aren’t intelligent! 1 memory.

Watching Alvin and Beau chase each other around the dining room table and worrying who was most likely to get hurt.  Usually it was Beau, as he would get so excited that he may run into the couch or chair cutting around the corner in attempts to catch his dad.  624 memories.

Beau’s final message when he looked me in the eye and I saw the pain in his.  He spoke to me and I heard him say as clearly as he spoke out loud, “Mom, this is too hard.  I can’t keep doing this.”  I asked God for a sign and he gave it to me.  1 memory.

Last but most important, the unconditional love he gave every day of his life.  4, 563 memories.

Thank you for reading this post, as my hope is that it will help you remember a pet that changed your life forever as Beau did ours. And I’m so glad I know that all dogs do go to heaven.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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