The Passing of a "Friend*"
* "A dog is a man's best friend" anonymous --How true it is.
Well kids, here I go with another of my rambling essays. Oh well. You don’t have to read it if you don’t want to.
This was a rather sad week for all of us. We had to make a sober decision to end the life of a special part of our family, putting down our first family dog—Babe Pup. On Wednesday, September 24, 2007 at about 11:10 a.m., Babe was given a shot that put her to sleep, and then a few moments later she was given an overdose of barbiturates that stopped her heart. She was a happy dog to the very end. She just went to sleep.
I would be lying if I said that I didn’t bawl like a baby as I said goodbye to our old friend. I think that I can honestly say that at least for the past few years, I had become closer to Babe than most of you, just because I had to take care of her so much of the time. Yes, she was “Katie’s dog” officially, though I think she voluntarily rescinded that ownership, at least in a practical sense, a few years ago. I also would be lying if I didn’t say that in spite of some of her disgusting habits like her grunting, snorting, licking, getting into the trash for something to eat, licking herself, scratching and digging for things on her body especially around her smelly disgusting wax-filled ears and butt, licking everywhere (did I say that one yet), etc., she was a very happy and joyful part of my life.
We always loved to talk about how “stupid” she was. And she really was in many ways.
But Babe was also a very smart animal too. Mom always talks with friends and family about how she actually figured out that not being able to be on the couch in Frankfort was a crock. When the pups were born and started growing, we allowed them to be on the couch. One day, Babe stood there on the floor watching as we let the puppies play and frolic on the couch. You could see her “reasoning” through the incident and thinking, “Hey! What’s the deal here? A double standard if I ever saw one. I’m not allowed on there . . . why are my babies getting special privileges. No way!” And up she jumped right in front of us, looked around to see if anyone was going to contest the injustice that she had uncovered, and laid down in victory that she had finally proven, once again, that she was right. And how can we forget before that change of rules occurred, when we would go somewhere in the van and come home along Higby Road to see Babe watching out the window for any sight of us, and then would jump off the couch so that she wouldn’t be in trouble with us, thinking all along that she had gotten away with something? She wasn’t that dumb, was she?
I remember her mostly as a frolicking, limber dog who would love to just prance around the place, always wanting to be near someone; always wanting to sleep with one of us. Never wanting to be in another room from where the action was at in the family. She loved for us to rub her belly. And she loved to lick our hand, arm, face, or wherever over and over again, letting us know that she loved us. Just this past week, even when she wasn’t able to see me, she licked my arm over and over and over for a number of minutes because that was her way of expressing her love for her master. She loved to lick. I will never forget how she always dropped her head when you went to pet her. Then she would look up affectionately at you.
She was an affectionate and loyal friend to us all. She protected us to her best ability. I know that if ever there would have been a time when one of us was in true danger, Babe would unhesitantly have defended us to her death. We saw this exhibited several times in our life in the crazy incidents of Katie’s “Get away! Get away!” episodes with the boys in their younger years. Babe also protected the property, especially in Frankfort, when anyone attempted to walk by the place along Higby Road. Off she would go to bark out a warning to not come any closer, as if she would do anything except maybe lick that person to death! Or when a car pulled in the driveway in Frankfort, Liverpool, or even Arcadia, she would be yapping in her silly high pitched bark until we either threatened to whack her or that person would present himself or herself to Babe for a sniff to verify that they were friend and not foe.
Babe was careless about what we thought about her too. Did she care that we thought she was uncouth? No. Did it bother her that she would do something dumb like bark out the window at 3 a.m. as if some stranger was prowling about, only to learn that there was nothing there? No. Did Babe ever think about our feelings when she lay on the floor licking her butt and snorting vociferously as she attacked whatever it was that was causing her discomfort? Of course not. She was Babe and that is what Babe did. It was a matter of fact.
Babe was more like an old lady than an old dog. She didn’t want to be bothered with the pups after they were born, as you may recall. The puppies were a nuisance to her. If we had left her to herself, it is possible that Chunky, Pudgie, Sadie, and Chloe would never have been born. (I wonder if Chloe is still alive. You may recall that we sold her to the Johnston family in Bainbridge, NY, near Oneonta. They had lost their English Springer days before to a truck accident and were so thrilled to get a beautiful replacement from Babe’s litter. See, Babe did give joy to others besides herself, even if she didn’t know she was doing it.)
She had a personality that was stubborn, self-centered, and even obnoxious at times. If she wanted something her way, unless you physically stopped her, she would go for it until she got it. That was just the way Babe was.
My favorite memory of Babe was when we lived on the old farm in Wadsworth. Do you remember that place, after the Bob House, and before Frankfort. I had a tiny office upstairs that I made my phone calls out of. Babe would come upstairs no matter what you kids were doing and crawl under the desk and lie on my feet. She would lay there for hours while I did my work. If you were all gone somewhere when I was at home working, Babe would be right there with me. She always wanted to be around us. She loved us all so much because that is what Babe did.
As I used to always say, she was “a precious puppy!” She was from the day that we brought her home from Naples, New York after driving two hours from Honeoye Falls to pick her out of the litter until this past Wednesday when we took her on her last R-I-D-E in the C-A-R to the vet, where she always hated to go to. (Perhaps she somehow knew that one day that ride would be her last. Probably not, she was too dumb.)
Mom mentioned that we bought her a bag of Twizzlers to eat the night before she died. She loved to eat Twizzlers, didn’t she? She was so happy Thursday night, lying on our bed, unable to see anything, but comfortable and relaxed. She was in pain. But when we put a Twizzler by her nose, nothing else mattered! In those moments of eating those completely non-nutritious candies, Babe was already in doggie heaven! Her pain went away. I was afraid she would get sick from eating so many of them that night. But of course, that was ridiculous. Babe lived to eat. Her life was just like she loved it to be, full of romping in the fields, chasing a cat in the yard, barking at a neighbor driving up to the house, lying on the couch or chair or bed with one of us that she loved so much as only a pup can do, eating the leftovers or a candy or anything. Even on the way to the vet to be put to sleep, she was so happy just eating Twizzlers, as if life would go on like this forever. Oh, that it could! Maybe in the end, it does. (More on that in a moment.)
I am going to miss that stupid old dog so much. you know. You kids probably don’t realize this, but Babe was really my first dog too. Yes, our family had a dog when I was a kid, but she wasn’t really MY dog. I was the youngest in my home and had a twin brother too. Pansy was my older brothers’ dog much more than she was mine. And we only had her about a year, so I really didn’t know her too well. But Babe, she was definitely my dog as much as she was all of ours. She would always come romping to see me when I came home. She would love to be petted and hugged and scratched on the belly by me at any time, anywhere, and as often as I would do it. Up until her final day, she was a loving dog to me, and I know to all of you too!
Let me talk in a poetic sense for a moment. Please don’t take this part literally. I’m just trying to make a point about how Babe’s life might have affected us more than we had thought she could. I think an argument could be made that Babe is proof that there is a God and a heaven at the end of this life. Take a moment and think about her life and the memories that you have of her in your experiences. Those memories make you happy, don’t they? They make you feel like very little else matters in comparison, don’t they? You gain a glimpse of the contentedness, peacefulness, warmth, happiness, joy, kindness, loyalty of friendship, and companionship that God intended to exist in this space-time reality, don’t you? He created pups. If we are right that this existence is not random, arbitrary, or nonsensical events driven by unintelligent and impersonal matter or force, then Babe is a proof that God is good. Her existence reflected the satisfaction of a loyal dog to his master. That is a concept of goodness in a small way.
If God is good then He certainly has included in His infinite plans that one day in the not-too-distant future, we might just see Babe again. She may once again be our happy Babe dog. But the next time we see her, she won’t be covered with tumors, growling lowly with her pain, or having to bump into the walls and chairs, slipping on the floor because her legs are too frail to hold her up. Babe will be rumbling across a field, her ears flopping in the breeze as she “springs” along chasing a bird or buffing at the people in the distance. She will be following one of us around wanting to be petted, held, at our side, giving us a lick and making sure we know that she is there. I don’t think that concept is that far-fetched.
Even in this life, she will always be there from now on, in our memories. A remnant in our minds of the happiness of a dumb old dog in a family that has struggled at times, had difficulties and pains, but one that to this day is full of love and hope because of what Christ does to unite us in our times of disconnections.
Our loss of Babe is symbolic and real at the same time. It is symbolic of the fact that “life is rude.” Yeah, I know, you’re sick of hearing that one. Paul told us that the creation groans continuously as it waits for the redemption of the sons of God. Babe’s groaning and whining when she didn’t get her way will always be there in my mind. I still hear her little yap when she is left outside or in another room and can’t get to us. That was her way of reminding us of the rudeness she felt too. The last couple of days she was here, she would once in a while growl in a very low tone because of her pain. That is why I decided it was time. The fact that this loving animal had to be put down illustrates it as well in reality. She’s gone now from this life. We will never see her again on Earth. Life is rude. But it’s also symbolic of the fact that there is a God of grace and mercy who does intersect the rudeness in that He promises that one day there will be no more crying, or tears, or rudeness. There will be a resurrection one day. I’m looking forward to that day. Christ will be there to govern us. He will give us all responsibilities to oversee in His Kingdom. And there will be Babe, and Chunky, and Pudgie, and Serif, and McKinsey and Chai, and everyone we love in this family all together at the marriage supper of the Lamb. I can see the dogs eating the crumbs under the table. Jesus even found this analogy appropriate to leave in perpetuity. It wouldn’t surprise me if they turned out to be our dogs. And Babe will be right there, I’m sure. I know it because where there was food, there was Babe! Am I right? She has got to be there! I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she’s there to get the stuff that falls on the floor.
So be at peace that we will get to see that old stupid dog again some day. Maybe she won’t be quite so stupid the next time. Or maybe she will, because that is why she was such a perfect dog. She didn’t listen well to commands. She did what she wanted to do most of her life. And that was what made her so great. She was “The Babe.” And we loved her for being that, didn’t we?
I used to have a couple of silly songs about Babe. Let me share them once more with you:
(This first one I would sing as I was patting her on the head)
It’s a Babe; it’s a boob; it’s a mabe; it’s a moob;
It’s a beep-bape-bope-boop-bupp;
It’s a puppy, such a puppy; yeseree-yeseroo-yeserup!
And I love her, stand above her;
And I bleetty, blatty, bloaty, blooty, blup!
. . . Babe Pup!
(She loved that song! Here’s the other one . . .)
Oh Babe, you are such a precious puppy!
Oh Babe, you are such a Babe pup.
Oh Babe, I love you, yeserruppy;
Oh Babe, I love you, yes I dup!
I can remember so many times just scratching her ears as I sang that song to her. She would be so happy that she would groan while I scratched her ears.
Thanks for letting me share all of this. I need the catharsis. I didn’t realize how much her loss would affect me. I know that theologically I am probably way out of line. Biblically we know dogs don’t have a soul like we have. They have no spirit like Man does. Or at least that is what theologians say. But I still believe that God is greater than all of this. That dog loved. She loved the David and Laurie Callihan family. She was OUR dog. In the eternal scheme of things, I don’t think it is unreasonable that Jesus Christ will make sure we are able to enjoy that Truth forever. The reason that I believe it is because my Christ is a personal Messiah. He cares for me and you infinitely; and He gave us Babe and the other dogs in our lives, not by accident or unintentionally, but in reality and actually. If the lion will lie down with the lamb some day, why would it be far fetched to think that Babe will lie down next to us again? Huh? That is what faith is all about. God is good. Babe was a good dog. I just think that it once again points to His character that the story isn’t over yet; Heaven will one day write the final chapter. I just think it is reasonable to see Babe in that Heaven, that’s all.
What’s the point? Even a dumb dog is significant in the grand scheme of things. Earlier this year I was reading a book written by a priest in the Eastern Orthodox Church. This is one of the oldest Christian faiths in history. Their position is that we shouldn’t have pets believe it or not. They think that because pets don’t have souls, we shouldn’t become attached to them because we will get a false impression of spirituality in some way. I say, “Nonsense.” God did not make man for animals, but animals for man, to slightly adjust a phrase. These animals have personalities because it is part of His intention to allow us to enjoy the Creation He made. Babe pointed us to our Maker. That is what He planned all along. We enjoyed having Babe because she was made to be enjoyed by one small family in the billions on Earth. And that we certainly did, didn’t we? Once again, it all makes us worship the Lord and thank Him for the good things He has made, even Babe. She was a great dog! That’s the point.
And I really miss her already, don’t you? Things won’t be the same without her.
I love you all. See you again soon, Babe!
Pops
Well kids, here I go with another of my rambling essays. Oh well. You don’t have to read it if you don’t want to.
This was a rather sad week for all of us. We had to make a sober decision to end the life of a special part of our family, putting down our first family dog—Babe Pup. On Wednesday, September 24, 2007 at about 11:10 a.m., Babe was given a shot that put her to sleep, and then a few moments later she was given an overdose of barbiturates that stopped her heart. She was a happy dog to the very end. She just went to sleep.
I would be lying if I said that I didn’t bawl like a baby as I said goodbye to our old friend. I think that I can honestly say that at least for the past few years, I had become closer to Babe than most of you, just because I had to take care of her so much of the time. Yes, she was “Katie’s dog” officially, though I think she voluntarily rescinded that ownership, at least in a practical sense, a few years ago. I also would be lying if I didn’t say that in spite of some of her disgusting habits like her grunting, snorting, licking, getting into the trash for something to eat, licking herself, scratching and digging for things on her body especially around her smelly disgusting wax-filled ears and butt, licking everywhere (did I say that one yet), etc., she was a very happy and joyful part of my life.
We always loved to talk about how “stupid” she was. And she really was in many ways.
But Babe was also a very smart animal too. Mom always talks with friends and family about how she actually figured out that not being able to be on the couch in Frankfort was a crock. When the pups were born and started growing, we allowed them to be on the couch. One day, Babe stood there on the floor watching as we let the puppies play and frolic on the couch. You could see her “reasoning” through the incident and thinking, “Hey! What’s the deal here? A double standard if I ever saw one. I’m not allowed on there . . . why are my babies getting special privileges. No way!” And up she jumped right in front of us, looked around to see if anyone was going to contest the injustice that she had uncovered, and laid down in victory that she had finally proven, once again, that she was right. And how can we forget before that change of rules occurred, when we would go somewhere in the van and come home along Higby Road to see Babe watching out the window for any sight of us, and then would jump off the couch so that she wouldn’t be in trouble with us, thinking all along that she had gotten away with something? She wasn’t that dumb, was she?
I remember her mostly as a frolicking, limber dog who would love to just prance around the place, always wanting to be near someone; always wanting to sleep with one of us. Never wanting to be in another room from where the action was at in the family. She loved for us to rub her belly. And she loved to lick our hand, arm, face, or wherever over and over again, letting us know that she loved us. Just this past week, even when she wasn’t able to see me, she licked my arm over and over and over for a number of minutes because that was her way of expressing her love for her master. She loved to lick. I will never forget how she always dropped her head when you went to pet her. Then she would look up affectionately at you.
She was an affectionate and loyal friend to us all. She protected us to her best ability. I know that if ever there would have been a time when one of us was in true danger, Babe would unhesitantly have defended us to her death. We saw this exhibited several times in our life in the crazy incidents of Katie’s “Get away! Get away!” episodes with the boys in their younger years. Babe also protected the property, especially in Frankfort, when anyone attempted to walk by the place along Higby Road. Off she would go to bark out a warning to not come any closer, as if she would do anything except maybe lick that person to death! Or when a car pulled in the driveway in Frankfort, Liverpool, or even Arcadia, she would be yapping in her silly high pitched bark until we either threatened to whack her or that person would present himself or herself to Babe for a sniff to verify that they were friend and not foe.
Babe was careless about what we thought about her too. Did she care that we thought she was uncouth? No. Did it bother her that she would do something dumb like bark out the window at 3 a.m. as if some stranger was prowling about, only to learn that there was nothing there? No. Did Babe ever think about our feelings when she lay on the floor licking her butt and snorting vociferously as she attacked whatever it was that was causing her discomfort? Of course not. She was Babe and that is what Babe did. It was a matter of fact.
Babe was more like an old lady than an old dog. She didn’t want to be bothered with the pups after they were born, as you may recall. The puppies were a nuisance to her. If we had left her to herself, it is possible that Chunky, Pudgie, Sadie, and Chloe would never have been born. (I wonder if Chloe is still alive. You may recall that we sold her to the Johnston family in Bainbridge, NY, near Oneonta. They had lost their English Springer days before to a truck accident and were so thrilled to get a beautiful replacement from Babe’s litter. See, Babe did give joy to others besides herself, even if she didn’t know she was doing it.)
She had a personality that was stubborn, self-centered, and even obnoxious at times. If she wanted something her way, unless you physically stopped her, she would go for it until she got it. That was just the way Babe was.
My favorite memory of Babe was when we lived on the old farm in Wadsworth. Do you remember that place, after the Bob House, and before Frankfort. I had a tiny office upstairs that I made my phone calls out of. Babe would come upstairs no matter what you kids were doing and crawl under the desk and lie on my feet. She would lay there for hours while I did my work. If you were all gone somewhere when I was at home working, Babe would be right there with me. She always wanted to be around us. She loved us all so much because that is what Babe did.
As I used to always say, she was “a precious puppy!” She was from the day that we brought her home from Naples, New York after driving two hours from Honeoye Falls to pick her out of the litter until this past Wednesday when we took her on her last R-I-D-E in the C-A-R to the vet, where she always hated to go to. (Perhaps she somehow knew that one day that ride would be her last. Probably not, she was too dumb.)
Mom mentioned that we bought her a bag of Twizzlers to eat the night before she died. She loved to eat Twizzlers, didn’t she? She was so happy Thursday night, lying on our bed, unable to see anything, but comfortable and relaxed. She was in pain. But when we put a Twizzler by her nose, nothing else mattered! In those moments of eating those completely non-nutritious candies, Babe was already in doggie heaven! Her pain went away. I was afraid she would get sick from eating so many of them that night. But of course, that was ridiculous. Babe lived to eat. Her life was just like she loved it to be, full of romping in the fields, chasing a cat in the yard, barking at a neighbor driving up to the house, lying on the couch or chair or bed with one of us that she loved so much as only a pup can do, eating the leftovers or a candy or anything. Even on the way to the vet to be put to sleep, she was so happy just eating Twizzlers, as if life would go on like this forever. Oh, that it could! Maybe in the end, it does. (More on that in a moment.)
I am going to miss that stupid old dog so much. you know. You kids probably don’t realize this, but Babe was really my first dog too. Yes, our family had a dog when I was a kid, but she wasn’t really MY dog. I was the youngest in my home and had a twin brother too. Pansy was my older brothers’ dog much more than she was mine. And we only had her about a year, so I really didn’t know her too well. But Babe, she was definitely my dog as much as she was all of ours. She would always come romping to see me when I came home. She would love to be petted and hugged and scratched on the belly by me at any time, anywhere, and as often as I would do it. Up until her final day, she was a loving dog to me, and I know to all of you too!
Let me talk in a poetic sense for a moment. Please don’t take this part literally. I’m just trying to make a point about how Babe’s life might have affected us more than we had thought she could. I think an argument could be made that Babe is proof that there is a God and a heaven at the end of this life. Take a moment and think about her life and the memories that you have of her in your experiences. Those memories make you happy, don’t they? They make you feel like very little else matters in comparison, don’t they? You gain a glimpse of the contentedness, peacefulness, warmth, happiness, joy, kindness, loyalty of friendship, and companionship that God intended to exist in this space-time reality, don’t you? He created pups. If we are right that this existence is not random, arbitrary, or nonsensical events driven by unintelligent and impersonal matter or force, then Babe is a proof that God is good. Her existence reflected the satisfaction of a loyal dog to his master. That is a concept of goodness in a small way.
If God is good then He certainly has included in His infinite plans that one day in the not-too-distant future, we might just see Babe again. She may once again be our happy Babe dog. But the next time we see her, she won’t be covered with tumors, growling lowly with her pain, or having to bump into the walls and chairs, slipping on the floor because her legs are too frail to hold her up. Babe will be rumbling across a field, her ears flopping in the breeze as she “springs” along chasing a bird or buffing at the people in the distance. She will be following one of us around wanting to be petted, held, at our side, giving us a lick and making sure we know that she is there. I don’t think that concept is that far-fetched.
Even in this life, she will always be there from now on, in our memories. A remnant in our minds of the happiness of a dumb old dog in a family that has struggled at times, had difficulties and pains, but one that to this day is full of love and hope because of what Christ does to unite us in our times of disconnections.
Our loss of Babe is symbolic and real at the same time. It is symbolic of the fact that “life is rude.” Yeah, I know, you’re sick of hearing that one. Paul told us that the creation groans continuously as it waits for the redemption of the sons of God. Babe’s groaning and whining when she didn’t get her way will always be there in my mind. I still hear her little yap when she is left outside or in another room and can’t get to us. That was her way of reminding us of the rudeness she felt too. The last couple of days she was here, she would once in a while growl in a very low tone because of her pain. That is why I decided it was time. The fact that this loving animal had to be put down illustrates it as well in reality. She’s gone now from this life. We will never see her again on Earth. Life is rude. But it’s also symbolic of the fact that there is a God of grace and mercy who does intersect the rudeness in that He promises that one day there will be no more crying, or tears, or rudeness. There will be a resurrection one day. I’m looking forward to that day. Christ will be there to govern us. He will give us all responsibilities to oversee in His Kingdom. And there will be Babe, and Chunky, and Pudgie, and Serif, and McKinsey and Chai, and everyone we love in this family all together at the marriage supper of the Lamb. I can see the dogs eating the crumbs under the table. Jesus even found this analogy appropriate to leave in perpetuity. It wouldn’t surprise me if they turned out to be our dogs. And Babe will be right there, I’m sure. I know it because where there was food, there was Babe! Am I right? She has got to be there! I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she’s there to get the stuff that falls on the floor.
So be at peace that we will get to see that old stupid dog again some day. Maybe she won’t be quite so stupid the next time. Or maybe she will, because that is why she was such a perfect dog. She didn’t listen well to commands. She did what she wanted to do most of her life. And that was what made her so great. She was “The Babe.” And we loved her for being that, didn’t we?
I used to have a couple of silly songs about Babe. Let me share them once more with you:
(This first one I would sing as I was patting her on the head)
It’s a Babe; it’s a boob; it’s a mabe; it’s a moob;
It’s a beep-bape-bope-boop-bupp;
It’s a puppy, such a puppy; yeseree-yeseroo-yeserup!
And I love her, stand above her;
And I bleetty, blatty, bloaty, blooty, blup!
. . . Babe Pup!
(She loved that song! Here’s the other one . . .)
Oh Babe, you are such a precious puppy!
Oh Babe, you are such a Babe pup.
Oh Babe, I love you, yeserruppy;
Oh Babe, I love you, yes I dup!
I can remember so many times just scratching her ears as I sang that song to her. She would be so happy that she would groan while I scratched her ears.
Thanks for letting me share all of this. I need the catharsis. I didn’t realize how much her loss would affect me. I know that theologically I am probably way out of line. Biblically we know dogs don’t have a soul like we have. They have no spirit like Man does. Or at least that is what theologians say. But I still believe that God is greater than all of this. That dog loved. She loved the David and Laurie Callihan family. She was OUR dog. In the eternal scheme of things, I don’t think it is unreasonable that Jesus Christ will make sure we are able to enjoy that Truth forever. The reason that I believe it is because my Christ is a personal Messiah. He cares for me and you infinitely; and He gave us Babe and the other dogs in our lives, not by accident or unintentionally, but in reality and actually. If the lion will lie down with the lamb some day, why would it be far fetched to think that Babe will lie down next to us again? Huh? That is what faith is all about. God is good. Babe was a good dog. I just think that it once again points to His character that the story isn’t over yet; Heaven will one day write the final chapter. I just think it is reasonable to see Babe in that Heaven, that’s all.
What’s the point? Even a dumb dog is significant in the grand scheme of things. Earlier this year I was reading a book written by a priest in the Eastern Orthodox Church. This is one of the oldest Christian faiths in history. Their position is that we shouldn’t have pets believe it or not. They think that because pets don’t have souls, we shouldn’t become attached to them because we will get a false impression of spirituality in some way. I say, “Nonsense.” God did not make man for animals, but animals for man, to slightly adjust a phrase. These animals have personalities because it is part of His intention to allow us to enjoy the Creation He made. Babe pointed us to our Maker. That is what He planned all along. We enjoyed having Babe because she was made to be enjoyed by one small family in the billions on Earth. And that we certainly did, didn’t we? Once again, it all makes us worship the Lord and thank Him for the good things He has made, even Babe. She was a great dog! That’s the point.
And I really miss her already, don’t you? Things won’t be the same without her.
I love you all. See you again soon, Babe!
Pops
posted by David at 11:46 AM
1 comments
