My grandma called me just a few minutes ago, in a very sad and introspective mood. She told me she had gotten a phone call from out of state, telling her that her dog and its present owner had just died.
Tell you the truth, I never really liked the dog, Boomer. He was a huge Airedale, as dumb as a box of rocks. He was a kind and gentle soul, though, very loving. He was just stupid. But he and my grandmother got along splendidly because all he wanted to do was lay at her side. They travelled together extensively, and he was wonderful with children.
Things in grandma’s life changed, and she decided she no longer could care for Boomer. It broke her heart, but she ended up giving him to an old man she knew. She heard from him frequently. He’d call to let her know how Boomer was doing, and the old man would take Boomer all the time to the pet store my mom manages to buy him treats and toys. He was absolutely delighted with Boomer–said he was the best dog he’d ever had, and constantly thanked grandma for giving him to her. He would even send grandma Christmas and birthday cards from Boomer.
A couple of months after Grandma gave Boomer to the old man, he called her, crying. He said Boomer had saved his life. The old man had gone into diabetic shock, and Boomer had frantically licked and bumped him until the old man woke and took his medicine. After that, Boomer would occasionally smell the old man’s breath and then whine and dance, letting him know another shock was coming on unless he took his medicine.
Boomer lived the life of a king with that old man. He took Boomer to breakfast and supper every evening at a local resturant. (I have a chuckle every time I think of that huge dog sitting in a booth with the old man.) The old man said that Boomer got “whatever he wanted” from the menu-- just how Boomer indicated his preference, I do not know, but enjoy imagining. He had more toys than a rich child, and the old man played with him and took him on very frequent walks.
Then, grandma got the phone call last night. Boomer had died. Of course, the diet he was fed was terrible, and diabetes was an inevitablity. He was immensely obese-- the man who called grandma said Boomer weighed 190 lbs when he died. (He weighed probably about 120 when grandma had him-- a huge, strongly built dog.)
The old man had recently been put into the hospital and his son was caring for Boomer until he was able to leave. When the son called the old man and told him about Boomer’s death, the old man began refusing food. He simply said he didn’t want to live any more. He died only three days after Boomer.
The son, who lives out of state, was kind enough to call grandma and tell her all of this. She’s invited to the funeral tomorrow. They’re burying Boomer and the old man together.
As I said, I was never very fond of Boomer, but I got a little teary when grandma told me all of this. I told her that she should be glad that she brought such joy to the old man’s life, and that Boomer, too, was very happy. I can’t tell you exactly why this story touched me so, but I felt like I had to share it.