Seamus Epilogue
Dogs teach us to go all in. Head first. Throw your big vulnerable heart to the wind. There’s no turning back when you love a dog.
Dogs don’t hurt you like people do. They don’t hurl words that can’t be unheard. They don’t wield evil power, just the power of love. Seamus was the kind of best friend who never judged. He’d rest his head in your lap, as if his mission was to supplant all your stresses of the day with pure unfettered compassion. No judgment, no questioning your accountability, no second-guessing decisions.
Seamus was a rescue dog, but there’s no question in my mind as to who rescued whom. He was abandoned in the wilderness, and when his former owner was located, he casually relinquished him to the county dog catcher. Unsurprisingly, he came to me needy and emotionally shattered. Every time we went hiking, he’d be the first to make it back to the car as if to say, “No siree, you are not going to leave me here.” It was a scar that never healed, the damage done long ago.
One man’s giveaway is another one’s treasure, and that he was to everyone who ever met him. Seamus was a sugar cube on four legs, and when he lost a leg to cancer, he almost seemed to get sweeter. If dogs could live in gratitude, our Seamus did. He taught us so much. First, he would never abandon anyone like someone had abandoned him. When I fell in my driveway on ice and was knocked out with a concussion in 17 degrees, I opened my eyes and there he was curled up beside me. That moment, relatively early on in our relationship, cemented our mutual loyalty.
He taught me that you just have to pick yourself up and move on. When change or challenge comes your way, you just keep moving forward. We left our old lives behind, moved, and started over together.
I know not how many daddies he had, but the one who mattered loved him as much as I. Seamus blossomed surrounded by so much love and harmony provided by his two humans and four-legged companions. His joie de vivre was infectious.
When he was diagnosed with osteosarcoma in January 2017, all we knew at that time was that we had to remove the evil source of pain. We went into that questioning whether we were doing the right thing, and Seamus gave us the answer one day after surgery as he literally pulled me out of the hospital on three legs. Onward we would go together. Whatever lie ahead, we would face together. But thus began the grieving, knowing the loom of death was closer. It may have been our most special year. There were so many happy days, lounging in the sun, walking with his friends, visiting his Zen place by the pond, surrendering to lots of kitty kisses. The only thing he could no longer do was dance. He loved to dance on his hind legs and was a very forgiving partner. (Tequila may have been involved on more than one occasion, but He never touched the stuff!)
Cancer is greedy, insatiable, ferocious. It would not be tamed, eventually stealing the life of a most beautiful soul. We could watch no more, needing to save him from any further suffering. These are gut-wrenching decisions, the kind that leave your chest torn open, your heart ripped out and bleeding, emotionally broken. They say that putting your friend down is the most altruistic act of love, but it is a heavy decision fraught with responsibility and uncomfortable dominion.
We will never forget you, Seamus, nor would we want to. In a sky full of stars, we know we’ll see you...In a heavenly sea of golden retrievers, we’ll be able to pick you out of the line-up. Charlie, Zuma, Jazzie, and Wally are there to greet you, as are a whole bunch of familial friends with stories of their own about roaming the earth and sharing their short time with those who mourned them as we are mourning you.
Thank you for your love, your loyalty, your courage, your grace, your omnipresent gift of joy. You will forever be our super sweet Seamus the Wonder Dog.
Feel free to share your memories of a special four-legged friend.
