We said goodbye to our dear friend and best pal Tuesday, the one and only buddy Blair. He is also known as Baba in our house. A name given to him by my oldest daughter when she was a baby throwing food from her high chair for him, laughing and saying, “Baba, Baba.” The tradition continued with the next two girls and the name stuck.
He was our first baby. In April of 1999 while we planned our wedding we decided to go ahead and visit the animal shelter to just “look around.”
First of all, people like me who grew up rescuing birds, rabbits and stray cats from the woods don’t go home empty handed when there are furry lives to adopt. So naturally, it didn’t take long for this bushy haired blond dog with floppy ears to catch our eye. When he did, his soft brown eyes looked at us, he put his paw up on the fence door and politely wined, “Take me home please. You look very nice.”
How could we say no? He had been severely abused, with pellet gun wounds to his chest. In the adoption office he scurried under the chair at the snapping sound of a clipboard. Someone saw something in this dog that would make him a good pet, and chose to give him a second chance a life. They were so right about him.
He was the best dog a family could have. He was our first baby. He got decorated with Christmas lights our first year married, took beach vacations with us, loved his rollerblade runs at my side through downtown Atlanta and walked many of miles with me pregnant with my first baby. Then he graduated to getting thrown table scrapes and being invited to tea parties where he tolerated feather boas and tiaras. He wore light up antlers at Christmas and always let the babies crawl right over the top of him.
He could have been almost 15 years old, based on his estimated age when we adopted him. He predated Y2K, digital cameras and the flu shot for dogs.
He would never have left us on his own choosing. He just would not have done it. But we’ve seen him struggle more than a soul should have to in the past days, weeks, months and years during his slow decline.
He was resilient, forgiving and had an enduring heart that anyone could have been inspired by. In the end, as I sat up with him during his last night at home, trying to comfort him, I knew in my own heart that he was “ready.” It was time for him to have peace. The process was all handled with grace. From me riding with him in the back of the SUV to the vet to laying him to rest in our yard – we were with him every step of the way. Just as he has been for us.
Photos in order from the early days to his last.
