Pets are family. The dog that we said would be outdoors, ended up as a couch potato. A safe dog for the scared children, a companion for the grandparents. White Sox was the sunshine on a rainy day. She was the dog that made dog haters change their minds.
The one thing many students leave behind is their pets. With that comes the possibility of losing them while we’re off at school, as our childhood pets continue to turn grey with age. The salt-and-pepper faces, white whiskers and slow movements have appeared over the years. A dog that once ran fast and free no longer wants to get off of the floor. They can’t seem to hold their bladder anymore. When you look them in their eyes, it’s not the same dog you knew from a few years ago.
White Sox’s death meant the end of my childhood. My first dog, Skittles, passed away in June. Skittles lived to be 13, and had classic Shih Tzu attitude right until the end. The way Skittles passed was less traumatic than Sox, as his decline appeared to the eye. You could feel his spine and ribs, and he was overly lethargic. It was time to make the right choice and end his suffering. The vet came to the house, and he passed in the arms of someone he loved.
White Sox was our protector. She was all bark, no bite. I always thought she could read the energies of people; she knew whether they were bad news or not. She was the perfect family dog, she belonged with us. When I was a child, we’d dress Sox up in t-shirts, and she never fought us on it. She was the most tolerant creature I had ever met. Y ou could annoy her to the ends of the earth and she would still sit next to you.
Sox was originally my brother’s dog. Though she was for him, Sox ended up being everyone’s dog. Family, friends and strangers all adored her. Sox was a Lab and St. Bernard mix, and she got the very best of both. She was tolerant and friendly like a St. Bernard, yet playful and outgoing like a Lab. For a house that was typically full of people, she was the most well-behaved non-trained dog I’d ever come across. She knew the basics; she knew how to sit and lay down. She wasn’t extraordinary: she couldn’t spin in circles, she couldn’t jump hurdles. But she could silently steal whole sticks of softened butter off of the counter, and sneakily put them in random places around the house. Each family member has found a stick of butter in their blanket or their bed.
I’d never met a dog more full of personality than Sox. Dogs have a range of personality traits that make them who they are: some dogs are more aggressive, some are more outgoing. Some dogs sleep all day and some are bouncing off of the walls. Sox was a perfect mix of everything. She had plenty of energy, but also would sleep for hours if you’d let her. She was this hilarious combination of dramatic and aloof; she would give you a piece of her mind if she was unhappy with you, but she’d also go and lay in a room alone when she needed her quiet time.
A tail wagger for life. From birth to death, there wasn’t a day where she wasn’t happy. It never mattered the weather, the month or the time. She was the epitome of joy: she radiated happiness wherever she went. While dogs can’t talk, they can communicate. Sox was lovely to have a conversation with. She’d listen so intently to whoever was speaking, almost as if she truly understood. She was the dog that would come sit next to you if you were upset about something. As long as she knew you’d pay attention to her, she’d be right next to you.
White Sox had two main flaws as a dog: she liked to whine and she’d do anything to save her people from heartbreak. All day, everyday Sox whined about something. If she wanted to go outside, if she wanted to come inside, if she was hungry or wanted attention. She had a distinct whine that some of us still continue to hear after her death. It simply was the most pathetic whine, she was so spoiled andalways got what she wanted. Her whine reflected that. It was kind of like a spoiled child begging their mom for the latest toy.
Our family collectively knew that when the time came close, Sox would probably run off to pass away. It’s common for dogs that live in the country to wander off to do so. While it may not be entirely true that dogs run away to save their people from being hurt, my family truly believes that Sox did try to protect us from what was coming. We had known it was close to her time, as she had become increasingly disoriented and visibly confused. The weekend before she passed away, she was acting unlike herself. She was laying in odd places, uninterested in food and overly tired. While you see those behaviors, it’s hard to know when the thing will happen. Nobody can predict death; which really is the hardest part about losing a pet.
She did what we thought she’d do. Sox went missing on Monday. She was let outside in the morning and afternoon, and she was last seen laying where she is now buried. It was unlike her to be gone overnight, so the next day a search party was planned for her. After a 15 minute search for Sox, she was found. She was not doing well. Sox had seizures on the way to the vet, where they worked to get her vitals up in hopes of the best. Nothing was working. She continued to have seizures after medications wore off, which is when the decision was made.
I’m lucky that I’m roughly 20 minutes from my hometown, so when I received the call I was able to be there right away. I got to say my goodbyes to one of the best friends I could have ever asked for. I pet her, and told her it was all okay until her last breath. I felt her pain leave her body within seconds of the vet administering medication.
We buried her shortly after. She’s at rest in her favorite spot in our yard, right in front of the house, where she could keep watch of everything and everyone. She was buried with a few of her favorite things. Her blanket, a stick of butter and a bone. A few months ago, my Mom asked Sox to wait until my brother graduated to pass away. He is in his last semester of college.
Not me, though. I have another year to go. Her death impacted me more than I’d like to admit. I’m more of a cat person, but that dog meant the world to me. As much as I hated when she’d barge into my room, I knew that it was just because she loved me. Turning the corner on grief means not sobbing about the loss of her anymore, but looking back on the memories she gave me and feeling sentimental. Undoubtedly it will take a while before I’m able to talk about her without feeling a lump in my throat.
I think something that’s helped me get through this is believing that Sox’s life has only started. A form of heaven, a snowy oasis or a sunlit patch of fresh grass. Wherever Sox is, she’s free again. Her hips don’t ache anymore, and she’s got everything she needs. I keep finding pieces of her fur on my clothes, and it feels like a sign from her. At home, our bird feeders have been taken over by two Blue Jays, who just happened to appear the day after Sox died. She has let us know that she is still around in more ways than one. Well done, good and faithful servant. Well done.
