Peppers

We said goodbye recently to our 2021 Alumnus Peppers. His family sent us a beautiful tribute…
 
“This sweet of the sweetest boys came into our life after being lovingly fostered by Sharon and Andy, who we considered his godparents. We were so blessed that they picked us to adopt this special boy.   Peppers was the 6th GSP we’ve had and the third rescue. He was 5 and so very anxious when we got him which showed up in nervous zoomies. He wasn’t scared, just unsure, and like he didn’t want to disappoint his new family. We told him over and over we are your forever mom and dad, don’t worry Peppers, we’re never going to let you go.   
 
Over the years he got used to the routine of my husband and me – and found deep love, stability and predictability in his days. What he gave us is beyond words, but brings loving images – of how he curled up on my lap if I was on the couch, ready to snooze for as long as I’d be there, how he loved to be covered up with his blanket at night and pull his front forepaws to his chin, would sigh, lick his lips, and close his eyes. How he went back to bed in the morning to sleep with my husband and escape his new 10-month-old sister rescue pup who bugged him endlessly. How he’d look in your eyes – directly – with so much love and peace. And how every single day, my husband took Peppers to the dog park to harass the squirrels – he’d run for an hour underneath the trees – and every morning at 11:00 am let my husband know it was time to go to the dog park. He would lay his head on your lap and look up adoringly – pleadingly – politely. He did the same if he wanted to go outside. Always a gentle gesture of connection. He had a very kindly little-old-man energy.   
 
About 6 months ago, the nightly tuck-in ritual had an extra sense coming through me to really really tell him with kisses, petting, sweet talking and tucking in how much I loved him. "I love you sooo much Peppers," I’d say, and he’d sigh and close his eyes. Every night this message came through me with such energy – I just had to tell him. Every night. It felt like my heart would burst with this love for him. At the same time, he was telling me something: Hey mom, I’m going to be leaving soon.   
 
He wasn’t sick, he was only 9. His message to me was not clear until the time came when he had to go. Over a month ago, he had some trouble breathing and we took him to the vet – panting and when he wasn’t hot, and kind of wheezing. Nothing was discovered. Three weeks later I started to get a pressure in my heart area, but along with that I felt this deep opening of love – for Peppers and for life itself. It was noticeable and wonderful.   Then a week later he could not get comfortable and kept wanting to go outside. I must have let him out 6 times in the middle of the night and he would just pace the backyard. He would not or could not lay down. Only stand and look forlorn. 
 
In the morning, we took him to the emergency vet and they discovered cardiac hemangiosarcoma. He had blood pooled all around his heart due to the cancer – thus the breathing problem.   Peppers was so full of energy with his old man playfulness.  We both sensed his beautiful spirit was ready to run free. It was okay to let him go. He was suffering.   The vet brought in a pillow so Peppers could finally lay down once they sedated him and I laid down with him and held his beautiful form as he prepared to leave. I closed my eyes and told him how much I loved him – his heart stopped beating and I had a vision of him at the dog park running along the back fence like he did to find squirrels into a brilliant white light. Of course, we cried all the way home and still the tears come.  All the pain of losing Peppers is worth all the love and joy he brought us. That’s the deal, isn’t it? With great love comes great pain – and dog lovers know this – and we will pay up every time.”
 
 
“The comfort of having a friend may be taken away but not that of having had one.” SENECA