Thoughts, Feelings And Heartbreak

 Where do I begin?  Twelve years ago, the most incredible, crazy, sweet, loving, stubborn, brilliant dog came into our lives.  He had a hard start.  I don't want to go into the details, because he almost had no beginning.  He was small, the runt of the litter, undernourished, sickly.  But I knew the second I saw him, we had to save him and give him the best life a dog could ever want.  Because he was so small and skinny, he was always cold, so he would hug the baseboard radiators, standing with his little front paws on top and warming his belly.  He was too small to even fit into the smallest of dog sweaters, so I made him one out of a cozy sock.  He wore it all the time.  We wrapped him in a baby blue blanket that had pictures of bull terriers on it and carried him around all the time.  He loved blankets, being covered in them, laying his head on them, surrounding himself with them.  Something that he never outgrew.  In the beginning, he was timid and afraid of the big, scary world outside.  We used to take him for what we called a "carry walk".  Carry him to the end of the street and let him walk home.  Because he wanted to be home.

As he grew, so did his confidence.  Any bull terrier family will tell you that a baby bull is like a baby T-Rex, mouthy, crazy and with a head like a brick.  In his exuberance, he had scratched up our arms and hands with his needle teeth, given me a fat lip, a black eye and bruised our shins with his zoomies and shenanigans.   He always felt badly afterwards, giving kisses and tail wags, asking for forgiveness.  And we always gave it.  

His expressive face and eyes always told us what he was thinking.  He loved the camera and the camera loved him.  Some dogs won't sit still for a photo, but as soon as Rex saw the phone come out of my pocket, he struck a pose.  It was impossible to get a candid shot of him unless you did it from a distance.  I even disabled the shutter noise from my camera, but he still always knew when I was taking his picture.  Of course, he got a treat for every picture and I'm sure that was some motivation.  But he even took direction well. ("look up" "look down" "Sit here" "down").  I was his official photographer/videographer.

His photogenic qualities were what made me decide to start social media accounts for him.  I thought that if I found him so entertaining and beautiful, others might too.  And they certainly did.

Over the years, he found things that he loved doing and we indulged him every time, because we loved him so very much and wanted him to be happy as much as we possibly could.  Stick walks, boat rides, excursions to the store, sunbathing in his box or at the lake in Maine, his floaty boat in Grandma's pool.  The list is endless.  We spent a small fortune on doggie ice cream, which he had to have every night at 6:45 pm precisely, or we would hear nothing but grumbling and complaining until we complied.  He ruled the roost.

His personality was huge and so was his heart.  He loved to cuddle with us on the couch.  Although the many pictures I posted were of Rex and his Dad, he also loved his Mom cuddles, although there aren't many photos of that, since I couldn't take them.  Every night, he had a bedtime routine, which I started when he was a young pup.  Dad would take him outside one last time for the night and I would tuck him in with his favorite blankets and blanket pillows, kiss him and say the same words every night.  I won't say what they were, because it pains me to think about.  But he loved being tucked in his entire life and I said those same words to him on his very last day with us.

Rex and his Dad were the best pals.  If Mom was the one who enforced the (few) rules, bathed him, trimmed his nails, took him for vet appointments, made sure he took his medicine, trained him with the basics that he needed to learn, it was Dad who snuck him treats, let the rules slide, pampered him.  They were thick as thieves.

Rex had his favorite people.  He either loved someone, or didn't care for them at all.  I couldn't always figure out what it was about someone that made him love or reject them, but he made that determination very quickly.  And the people he loved, he loved fiercely.  He would cry with excitement and jump as high as my chest whenever he saw them, wag his entire body as well as his tail and give them mountains of love.  When he was younger, before the arthritis made his walks impossible, we would meet many people along the way who would ask "Can I pet him?" and I would say "That's up to him"

Some people he gravitated to, and would approach and love their touch.  If he didn't want that, he would sit and stay away.  He sensed something in each of them and I always trusted his instincts.  But I do know that on the rare occasions that I walked him by myself because my husband wasn't home at his usual walking time, he was fiercely protective of me.  If a strange man approached and even said hello, he would keep them at a distance.  Nobody was going to harm his Mom.

Our love of animals and the people who love them lead us to start the charity in Rex's name.  I thought that having so many people who loved Rex and followed him could be a way to help others who loved their animals and turn something fun and silly into something meaningful.  People overwhelmingly supported this venture.  Some donating small amounts, because it was all they could afford, which was so incredibly generous and touching, others being incredibly generous and allowing us to help so many.  My grandmother always said "Many hands make light work" and it was the many hands that allowed us to run this charity and continue to do so.  We intend to continue this charity as Rex's legacy.  We do plan to make some changes in the beginning of 2025, which we will further outline in the coming months.  But our mission remains the same.  The money that comes in, goes out to directly help pet families in need.  All of the members of our board, including myself are volunteers, take no compensation and donate our time and effort to help others.  We know that personally we are very fortunate to have been able to pay for all of Rex's many needs, but there are some who can't even afford basic necessities and a little help goes a long way.

I could go on for days about all the things that were special and amazing about Rex.  I'm sure I've left out a lot, but it's also so painful to talk about at the same time.  We can't bring ourselves to put his bed away or his leash or his toys.  All of his favorite things that are both comforting to see and painful at the same time.  I miss his snoring at night.  His laying by my feet as I prepared things in the kitchen.  Knowing I could peek out the window and see him lying in the sun as I did things around the house.  His presence on the couch is sorely missed.

Anyone who has ever loved a dog or a cat or an animal of any kind knows this heartbreak and it's not unique to us.  Many have expressed that.  The many, many comments of love, kindness, empathy and compassion have been overwhelming.  I can not begin to thank you all for loving our boy so much and giving your love to us.  My husband and I have read them all, albeit in small doses, because we found ourselves moved to tears and simply could not take more than a few at a time.  Know that if I didn't comment on your kind words, it was only because I wasn't able to emotionally.  I hit the like button a lot because it was all I could manage.  The tears still come when someone tells me they saw a stick today and thought of Rex.  Or they had some fruit that Rex had given them the incentive to try and they loved it.  And all of the people who say Rex touched their lives in some way, either through kindness and support through a difficult period, helping them with their sick pet and raising funds for them, or just making them feel like everything would be okay, because he encouraged people to "Dream of a better world" every night, with his peaceful, beautiful face and remind people that Kindness Matters.

Though many people don't know this and because they always saw my husband as the face of Rex's online presence, it was I who wrote all of his social media posts and run his charity.  What started out as a fun way to critique television shows turned into "Stick of the Day", "Suns Out Buns Out" and all of the things people loved so much.  I always took my direction from Rex.  His expressive eyes and body language guided me to what I would think he would say.  So in that way, there was Rex the bull terrier, and Rex The TV Terrier, who was a combination of Rex and myself.  The two of us inextricably tied together by his personality and my words.  Which brings me to ask "What now?" 

How do I continue without Rex telling me what to say, or pictures of his day?  I've made so many real and genuine friends over the years through him.  But I spoke as him.  Not as myself, but as "us".  If you ever spoke to Rex, you spoke to me (us).

It is a genuine question that I am hoping you can help me solve.  I don't want Rex to fade away to everyone who knew him online.  I want to continue our charitable work, I want to continue to comfort the people who need someone to care about them, be a friend, encourage people to be kind in a world that is increasingly lacking in kindness. but I don't want to be disingenuous.  I am asking you to guide me.  I only ask that you please do not suggest we rescue another dog at this time.  We need to grieve, to process that heartbreak before we could even think about that possibility.  Rex can never be replaced.  He was one in a million.  Some day we may be ready to open our home and our hearts to another dog and be open to discovering their unique personality.  But now is not that time.

I don't want to talk about Rex's final days.  I want to remember his happiest times.  But there are some things that will never leave our minds.  Rex became ill exactly 12 years from the day we brought him home as a puppy.  He passed on the same date that my father passed 9 years ago.  And as he took his final breath, the bells in our town rang, as they do every evening at 6 pm.  We will never hear the 6:00 bell and not think of that ever again. 

A Life Well Loved Is A Life Well Lived.  And Rex had so much love.  Of that I have no doubt.