This is Ike. We let go of Ike this week. For these last few years, this was his happy place, on the couch, “watching” tv with his people nearby.

He was a sweet-natured little dog. We had Ike in our family for almost 17 years. Early on he was a runner and a rambler. When we got him, he taught our other little dog how to do the same. He was pretty sneaky at getting out and going on an adventure before we would notice he was gone. I found him once at the neighborhood pool happily getting his ears rubbed by the teenagers working at the pool. Everyone seemed fine with it. Another time, we got a call from someone a couple blocks away. “Yeah, we’re getting in the car to go on vacation, and it there’s a little white dog trying to come with us.” the caller said. “I’ll be right there.”

One time, Tracy couldn’t find him and after searching for a while she heard this strange kind of moaning sound coming from behind the garage. There he was jammed headfirst into the live trap we had set out to try and get the squirrels tearing apart our garage. He got some peanut butter out of the deal. He never barked, except in his early years at the door, and sometimes when encountering a much larger, strange dog. So, sometimes, he’d just stand at the door and wait to have it opened for him. A bark to get our attention would’ve been handy.

He had this funny habit of letting his tongue slip out when his mouth was closed. Awake or asleep.

He lived his best life when we lived outside of Bemidji. He’d mellowed quite a bit and lost most of his rambling bone by that time, so he pretty much had freedom to go in and out as he pleased. We had enough space for him to explore a bit, but stay close to the safety of home. He did tangle with a momma deer. She chased him into the back yard, and then kept an eye out for him for much of that summer. He’d see her and growl a bit and retreat (smartly) inside for a bit. He was curious, but not very brave. Later that same summer, at the cabin, he was growling (more a sad moan than a growl) looking out the front door of the cabin. There was a big doe standing in view of the front door. I can imagine his little brain thinking, “Damn, she found me again.”

Since we moved back to Northfield, it’s been tough for Ike. He developed some allergies we could never figure out, He had some trouble at times with his bladder. We’ll be getting some new carpeting soon I think. And he just got old and so he slept a lot and grumbled during the winter.

He could be stubborn. See above sleeping in front of his bed instead of in it…just because. He was definitely Tracy and Linnea’s dog. Even though I mostly fed him and did much of the caretaking for him. Let me tell you, he became quite a picky eater. Food he ate happily for a few days got a turned up nose by day five. So, I’d try something new. Nope. Okay, how about this. Nope. Maybe a scrambled egg? Nope. How about some ground beef and rice? Well okay. But only for three days. Then we start again. Despite this, at the end of the evening when he’d finally get his couch time, he’d curl up next to…Tracy. Maybe because I also clipped his toenails as part of the caretaking. He acted like I was cutting off a toe. See above about bravery.

Since I started working from home, we spent all day together. Every. Day. And this last year or two that meant also dealing with an old man bladder and prostate (his not mine). Every hour or so, gotta remember to let Ike out. Ike got a new carpet shampooer a couple Christmas’s ago. He wasn’t amused. So, it’s been a strained relationship at times between me and him.

These last few months have been especially tough, though he just plugged along, eating some days, and not others, but kinda steady, even though old and slow. And then this last week things just kinda shut down. Nothing going in and nasty coming out. It’d be easy for us humans if he would have a stroke or heart attack or simply pass in his sleep. Unfortunately, that isn’t the case usually and their body will hang on, and on, and on. So, we decide it’s time, and then we second guess.

But that’s the thing when you bring a pet into your family. You take the bad with the good, hoping there’s more good than bad. That also means dealing with the end of the life for them, finding the right moment to let them go even though they can’t really tell you how they are feeling and you have to rely on careful observation of body language (and fluids) to estimate the level of distress and discomfort. And then it’s over and that’s it for them. They’ve had their time, running and rambling, exploring the woods around the cabin, tangling with a deer, getting caught in a trap, meeting teenage girls at the pool, and most importantly spending time curled up next to their people. We move on hopefully somehow, a little more human for spending time caring for this funny little animal we brought into our home.

I’d like to also share this song with you about letting go, or more accurately not wanting to let go of grief in order to hang on to happy memories of a lost one. I wrote this thinking of a good friend who unexpectedly lost a beloved family dog at a time when already dealing with other stressors in life. One might think a serious song about losing a pet? Really? But, grief is grief and everyone moves through it differently, and everyone’s grief is valid however they experience it. He’s made it through as we usually do and I’m thankful for that.