The Week That Was

Oof.

Last Thursday (nine days ago) my sweet Boxer, Beasley Ralph, had a stroke and then a seizure. I thought he was a goner, but folks at the emergency vet clinic pulled him back from the jaws of death, stabilized him, put him on blood pressure meds, and he is home now, acting like nothing happened at all. Meanwhile, I am still a bit of a blubbering mess.

He is my boo. He is my buddy and my travel companion. That dog has logged about 20,000 miles with me over the past four years, and he is so patient about it. I've made him live in a van, for criyi, and moved him away from his pack out here where it is so dry his paws crack. Of course, we figured out coconut oil helps that (and is a yummy treat to lick) and he found a new pack, a bunch of adorable chihuahuas that he was terrified of at first and then suddenly became fiercely protective of.

The bill for doggy ICU and tests was thousands. Thousands. But, as I told a friend, I owed him that, and if for no other reason than because he lets me glue blue silicone covers over his toenails and doesn't even hate me for it. That boy is the epitome of patience.

I've been a dog person all my life. My mom tells me when I was a baby and we lived in Atlanta, I liked to crawl over to our Boxer Herkimer's dish and try to steal his kibbles. She even gave me dog biscuits to teethe on. (Okay, that also tells you something about my mom...)

Our Boxer Moose went with me everywhere on our farm up in northeastern Ohio. We tromped all over those eighty acres, into the woods, through the fields, over streams, up hills. He had a head like a lion and weighed over a hundred pounds, but he was as soft as room temperature butter on the inside.

And don't get me started with Emily and Connor. I tear up just thinking about those two loves.

I know you all have stories, too, of the dogs that were your BFFs. How do they do that? Worm their way into our hearts and make us flat-out crazy about them? There is just so much goodness in a good dog, isn't there? They own us, heart and soul.

Anyway, that was the week that was, and good riddance to it. Yesterday Beasley had his blood pressure checked, and it is within normal range, which means the dosage of meds prescribed are working just fine.

I know this boy won't live forever. I'm just so very glad he is with me now, and I hope he sticks around for a long, long while.

Stay, Beasley. Stay. Good boy.