The last 24 hours have been, in a word, devastating. My wife and I were crushed on Sunday morning when we discovered our dog, Brewer, had passed away overnight.
The only way I’ve ever known how to begin the process of accepting and grieving is to write things down. So I’m going to do that now.
My wife often referred to Brewer as ‘sweet,’ and I honestly don’t think there’s a better word to describe him. He was the sweetest boy. I’ve never met another dog like him. He quite literally approached every single being he ever encountered as if that person/dog/cat was going to be his friend. He was never aggressive, rarely barked (unless he was trying to get us off our butts to walk him), just generally had an optimistic viewpoint of the world. What a beautiful way to go through life.
The first picture I attached at the top of this blog is the first picture we ever took of him. That was on his ‘gotcha’ day. It was June of 2011, I think the 26th, a Sunday. We were on our way to a Brewer game and had some extra time, so we decided to stop by the Wisconsin Humane Society, very close to Miller Park. We had been discussing MAYBE getting a dog, so we figured, ‘let’s just take a look.’ We met a dog named Derrick who seemed very chill, and was obsessed with chasing a green tennis ball. We met a few others as well, but he stuck out. In all honesty we were set to leave, and go on with our day, go to the game, and go home. But as we looked back, you could see a line outside of his crate. I don’t remember if I said it or she did, but it became apparent that if we didn’t adopt him, someone else was going to that day. A good looking 10 month old lab wasn’t going to have a long shelf life there.
So we made the best decision we ever made: We cancelled our trip to the game and basically ran to the front desk to say we’d take him. Keep in mind we were in NO way prepared to have a dog, so we had to buy EVERYTHING that day. Crate, leash, toys, all of it. We tried to put him in the trunk of my wife’s SUV, and as we were driving home on the interstate, he started to climb out of the trunk and onto the back seat where all of his stuff was sitting. We learned in that moment that this was a dog who was going to do things his way.
And so our journey as a family started. It was clear after a day or two that he was going to need a LOT of exercise. Two walks a day, sometimes three. Plenty of ball throwing sessions, and later in life as his legs and hips betrayed him, a ton of swim classes and pool time. But all of those exercise routines set the metronome of our lives. His walk times, his nap times, his ball times, his bed time, those set our day. And this guy was the epitome of German. He did his Shepherd legacy proud. You could set a clock to all of those daily activities.
Let me tell you something else about this dog: He was a tough son of bitch. He tore his knee ligament in 2019, had surgery in early 2020 at 10 years old, and rehabbed his way back to his daily walks and ball throwing. We found out on his first post-op trip to the vet that he actually sustained a small fracture in the repaired leg. We have no idea when it happened, but he didn’t make a peep, and it healed on its own. We did the best we could to manage him late in life. Carprofen, CBD, gluco, swim classes all of it. His walks got shorter, but he stuck to his daily regiment fiercely.
The second picture I posted at the start of this blog is one of the last pictures I took of him. It was about two weeks ago. He had just gone on one of his longer walks in a quite some time, and was doing another one of his favorite activities, observing his backyard kingdom on a cool fall day. It is absolutely impossible to fathom that I won’t seem him out there anymore.
I know at some point we’ll make it to the other side of this initial grief and shock. We’ll remember him fondly, and laugh once in a while. Today is not that day, and it won’t be tomorrow or next week or next month. Ultimately this is the kind of dog you mourn for a lifetime, but as I’ve learned in life, the mourning changes in nature and tone. I pray it will come sooner rather than later because this is absolute hell, but time will help scar over these deep wounds.
Rest easy, our boy, Brewer. You gave us the BEST life, and we did our best to give it right back to you.
PS: When I blogged about losing my dad in 2020, I noted that his last day with us was his perfect day. A day with great news, family, friends, good food and old fashions. Well we hosted Thanksgiving this year, and then had a few friends and their kids over on Friday night into Saturday. Those friends brought Brewer’s oldest friend in the world, their dog Frank, with them. He saw so many people that he cared about in life just before he left us. Life is odd in a special way sometimes.
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