When Grandma was around, Bengie would run to her. It may have been due to Grandma having a weak spot for sneaking him food from the kitchen. Bengie remembered his first companion.
When Laura no longer needed Bengie and Beth had a hole to fill, Bengie stepped in with honor.
Bengie took care of a lot of people while he was here.
If we believe there is a plan in this life, which I do, then Bengie was here for many important reasons. Few dogs get to accomplish so much.
I’m having a difficult time writing this because I’ve tried not to think about how he’s gone. I couldn’t be there when it happened. I asked Beth to do it because Beth is tougher than me.
Bengie was struggling for a long time.
Before he left for the last time with Beth, I took him on one last walk. He hadn’t been going on walks with us for a long time. That last walk confirmed to me the right decision was being made. He could hardly navigate even the open space, stumbling from bush to bush.
It had been so long since Bengie had been himself, I’d almost forgotten. Beth showed me some videos that reminded me of all the fun we used to have. Before kids I played with him everyday. Now I play with my girls everyday.
We used to take Bengie on long bike rides. Bengie would run alongside us. Sometimes I would take him off the leash and I was amazed at how he could fly. When we’d go on bike trips, inevitably an old Scottsdale woman would show concern about the little dog running alongside a bike in the heat. Little did they know when we got home he’d run around nonstop until we finally went to bed. Bengie could run forever.
Bengie used to cuddle with anyone that would sit still. He loved laying with Ivy before she started walking.
He was a great dog.
You know that movie All Dogs go to Heaven?
I believe all dogs do go to heaven. There is a special place reserved for the companions sent here to comfort us.
Death isn’t the end, even for pets. That’s awesome. I’m glad I’ll be able to see Bengie again. Next time I see him, maybe he’ll even be able to talk, who knows?
The first 48 hours, it turns out, is not just a homicide drama on television or the most important time after a homicide, it’s also an important time after the birth of a newborn.
The first 24 hours in the hospital went amazing. There’s no better word than amazing. Ivy slept the whole time. Beth would have to wake her to eat. She would eat and immediately go back to sleep. We were warned of the calm before the storm.
Nurses would come in and do this test or that. She cried once when I was holding her for like 5 seconds. She didn’t cry at all during her first bath. She looked like she was enjoying a spa day.
When another nurse pricked her foot for blood I asked if babies usually cried during that. She said, “well, I gave her sugar water.” I don’t know what that means but maybe we should be keeping sugar water on hand. What I do know is there was no crying while at the hospital after her initial couple hours coming into the world.
We brought her home around 4:30pm 12/5/20. Becky (mother-in-law) and Jane (new aunt) were at the condo. Apparently Bengie was disturbed by how we left the previous morning. He had been acting strange while we were away and licked us even crazier than usual when we got home. He didn’t seem to notice the new addition. Yet.
Becky made dinner. Jane held Ivy. Keith (father-in law) came over after his shift at the hospital. Everyone expressed joy at a newborn.
The first night was interesting. While I think she was still pretty well behaved, it’s crazy how small interruptions to sleep can be completely disorienting.
We went to sleep around midnight. Mistake number one. I’ve been told this by many people, but I think I’ll have to learn firsthand. Really – take sleep whenever it’s available. Ivy and I were watching ASU football until 11:30pm. Beth fed her and put her down to sleep around that time.
At 2:00am Ivy started crying. I’ll do my best to replay the events of the night, but Beth and I had great difficulty piecing events together in the morning.
I believe Beth tried to feed her, but she wasn’t really eating. Cluster-feeding? I don’t know.
*Beth update when reading this – she did feed her before I woke up at 2:00am, we think?
Things that happened, order unknown:
Beth made a bottle. Beth passed a blood clot. She was upset and scared and talked to her mom. Determined it was ok unless other symptoms/things happened. Beth was upset and having a hard time. I swapped spots with her and laid by Ivy’s bed, which for the first couple months (I think?) will be lying next to our bed. I fed Ivy half of the bottle Beth prepared.
Ivy was somewhat fussy and always on the verge of crying. Between 2am and 4am I realized she had a very messy diaper. Explained the fussy. I changed Ivy in the other room and laid her back down in her bed. She was much better. I’m not sure if Beth was completely sleeping during this time. I think she was kind of in and out of it. She was exhausted.
I laid with my hand on Ivy or helping to keep her pacifier in which seemed to settle her down. I think I slept around 4am. Again, not sure how things transpired, but at some point I woke up because Ivy was fussing. Looked like she was hungry. I talked to Beth around 5am (maybe?) about Ivy being hungry. I think at some point Beth turned the hot air on in the room. It had gotten cold in the room. I could have sworn I passed Ivy to Beth around 5am to feed but in the morning neither of us could recall if that actually happened. Funny, but being serious.
At some point I was really hot, and Ivy was fine. She was sleeping like a, you guessed it, baby. Really, she was sleeping well. Interesting we use that phrase to indicate deep sleep when in reality sleeping like a baby is more like up every 90 minutes wanting some attention. The living room was cooler, so I curled up on the couch and slept there. Again, at some point (8am?) I woke up to the loud carbon monoxide alarm. It beeped loud, 3 times. I saw Beth coming from the kitchen. I couldn’t fathom why she would make 3 loud beeps happen. She seemed in a haze. She ignored the loud beeping. That confused me more. I learned Bengie was sleeping on my legs. His number one fear is loud beeps. He jumped and ran to the bedroom, under the bed, tried to jump on the bed but Ivy’s bassinette was in the way. He ran back and jumped on me. He repeated this 3 times. I held and pet him and he was shaking like crazy. When I stopped petting, he ran to the bedroom, found his way onto the bed, and burrowed into the blankets.
The new addition was proving to be a major interruption to his routine, peace, and quiet.
**Beth addition number two – “you must have been in a haze too, when the beep went off, I yelled ‘oh –.’” (followed by a bad word).
I am not denying any sort of hazy phase. I was a cloud of confusion.
I guess the morning had started.
Ivy was peaceful as could be, as far as I could tell. She’s been an angel ever since. While writing this she was curled up on my legs/lap in front of me. Already learning to multi-task. Her pacifier just fell out. She likes her pacifier.
I still got to meditate that first day. That was big.
Becky came by and made some food. I decided to fast in gratitude to Heavenly Father for all this.
Beth proofread this and told me to insert “I was a Rockstar” talking about myself. That’s a bit much. Beth’s done all the hard work and is completely exhausted. I’ve gotten to sleep next to Ivy and take care of the most important person in the world. And she’s so cute. And when I sleep, I get to put my hand on her and be with her.
Good deal. I’ll take it.
Ivy may be the “Coo Monster.” She’s constantly coo-ing. It’s heart-melting. The cutest little hums and noises. I love her very much. It’s amazing how much I like caring for her. It’s crazy how exhausted I can be already and yet how happy.
Ivy went on a short walk in her stroller today.
She loves her swing.
She loves if I gently tickle her head or face with my fingers. Her eyes will instantly flutter closed.
I was 21 years old. I’d been couch surfing for a full year and starting to ask the serious questions. What was next? Was this me? Was there more for me to do? What do I do?
Sensing the end of my ‘no attachment to anything’ days I decided I needed to take advantage of my freedom while I still possessed it. No serious girlfriend, no serious job, no prospects for a serious job.
I decided to take a trip to the homeland. I packed up my teal ’98 Pontiac Sunfire and drove to Utah. I stayed with various family members, intending to be there a week tops. Weeks went by. I stayed with a cousin to party, I stayed with an aunt for movies and dinner, I stayed with grandparents for home cooked meals. Everything back then was tinted with selfish motivations.
Eventually I ended up at the home of my Aunt Laura, Uncle Jon, and cousin Sydney.
They had a dog named Bengie. He had been around a while. At this point he must have been around 4 years old. A little puppy-like dog, full of energy.
I stayed in the guest bedroom in the basement. I still don’t know if this was normal for Bengie, but every night I was there, when it came time to go downstairs for bed, he’d saunter down with me. I’d get in bed and he’d lay at my feet. Every night.
This was a soul-searching trip. One of the most spiritual experiences of my life happened in that basement. There were many tears. A lot of growing up and change happened there. Things were thought about that hadn’t been thought about for a long time. Options considered. Prayers said to God that had been avoided for so long. So many feelings and emotions. A post later this week called “Jonah and the Whale” will elaborate on these prayers.
Through all those emotional moments, I remember a dog. Sitting on the bed. Keeping me company. It was like God was saying, in a way my spiritually dimmed and simple brain could understand, “See him. He’s here for you. I brought him here for you.” Multiple times Bengie was hugged, talked to. You know, those weird, talk-to-the-dog-like-he’s-a-person moments. “What am I going to do Bengie? I’m scared.” He would look at me and it was like he knew; it was like he understood.
If ever there was a dog that understood…
I had a lot of comfort from that dog those few days.
So, when the time came that Bengie needed a home; Sydney was going to college and Uncle Jon wasn’t able to keep up with the day to day care of a still energetic, 11-year-old puppy, I jumped at the opportunity. My mom was talking to Jon about taking Bengie in. I asked and was prepared to beg. Let us take Bengie! Beth and I had just gotten married, I had just started coaching so Beth was home for hours and hours on her own.
It felt like the second time God sent just the right person, a dog, to answer not yet uttered prayers.
Today, I tell Beth that Bengie is my best friend, she can take second. Everyone else has fallen behind. Just like those days in that basement bedroom, seemingly alone, I’m never alone long. Any dog lover knows, especially with a velcro dog, he’s always there.
It was only a couple months in to having Bengie. We were at a dog park. As soon as we walked in a playful pit bull took an extreme interest in Bengie. It seemed playful. A small amount of concern set in when the owner of the pit bull quickly intervened, pulling her dog by its harness and dragging it, kicking and screaming, to the other end of the park. Beth and I continued to walk through the park. We were dog-sitting a giant golden doodle that day. So, Archie-the-golden-doodle ran bounding around the perimeter of the park. Bengie did his normal perusing, checking out the hot spots of the area.
Bengie was walking on his own, near no other animals or people. I didn’t go to the dog parks with Beth too often. It wasn’t in my nature to hover protectively over a dog when I did. Maybe something did feel off when we came in with the pit bull and the other dogs, being playful, I thought.
I saw the pit bull sprint right by me. It ran at Bengie. I continued walking towards them. I was maybe 15 feet away. I thought they were going to play. Bengie, not appreciating the sudden surprise charge of a bigger dog immediately got defensive.
It happened really fast. The pit bull bit Bengie around the neck and started swinging him around. I ran and grabbed the harness of the pit bull and yanked him back. Bengie fell out of his mouth. I pulled the pit away as he kept trying to get back to Bengie who was laying on the ground. The owner showed up and was trying to calm her dog. Beth showed up and scooped Bengie off the ground. I didn’t see it happen; all I saw was the blood pouring from the pit owner’s hand. I was lucky I got behind the pit bull. She made the mistake of getting in between a dog and what it now, apparently, deemed prey.
I’ll jump ahead, I don’t want to leave you in too much suspense. Bengie survived. By some miracle the pit bull didn’t get a full grip on his neck. Only one side of him was punctured, the other side of his neck was just grazed. If the pit got a proper grip, there’s no chance Bengie would have survived.
Puncture Wound
The next day was really difficult. Bengie wouldn’t eat or drink. He couldn’t walk, though he tried to. You know, because he couldn’t let us be anywhere in our home alone, even when he was near dying. I don’t know if you’re supposed to bless animals. I don’t think you’re supposed to. I didn’t anoint him with oil. But I held him, and I prayed, and I prayed, and I prayed.
I know this will be silly to many. Once upon a time it may have been silly to me. But I love that dog so much. In that moment I felt a tiny glimpse into what it’s like to see a child suffer. I know, I know, he wasn’t a child, I get it. I’m still saying it. I love him like a child, and it was really, really hard to see him so hurt and in so much pain.
I can’t begin to understand, even consider the pain of losing a child. I can’t. I won’t let my mind go there and hope I never have to. I learned a tiny, infinitesimal bit of that pain that day.
Now, as my first daughter makes her way to my life, I realize how much Bengie has taught me.
I like to think I’ve progressed more from a boy to man in these past 9 years. Since those first days with Bengie, when he comforted me. He stayed by my side and slept at my feet. He watched me pray. He was there to look at me, with (I swear it) care in his eyes as I cried questions I had to ask.
One day I’ll write about my Aunt Laura and why she was so special. Bengie was her special companion and comforter through her last years. Beth said something interesting recently. She said, “Sometimes I look at him and think about all the comforting he’s done.” For Laura, for me, for Beth. Aren’t we lucky God has sent us such special friends?
You sent a puppy to comfort a boy. You sent a dog to teach a man.
No Coincidences 