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?
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.
*I wrote this to my wife when she lost her family dog and best friend of the previous 12 years.*
You sent a dog to save a girl. I have never gotten a full story. I’ve never heard a full account. I have seen the love in her eyes. I’ve seen her hug and care for and love a creature with so much love. It’s love I know she’ll one day pour out upon a child tenfold. It’s maybe what drew me to her in the first place. Her obvious ability to love and care for others. She will be an amazing mother partly due to a dog.
I’ve only known that dog to be old. I’ve only known the whines and the cries. The confusion. From my eyes he has been ready for a long while. But he wouldn’t let her go. He knew she still needed him. I saw a puppy in pictures. I saw a puppy in her eyes every time she laid with him and pet his curly black fur. I saw love for a dog that never left her. I saw my wife, with so much capacity to love, unable to stop loving a dog that couldn’t stop loving her.
I never heard of every night. I know they existed. The nights that she cried. The nights she felt so alone. The nights that she thought, “why did I upend my life, to what end?” I know there were many tear-filled nights. I had to go through the same. I had a roommate and a best friend some of those nights, so I know. I know what comfort is in those moments. I know that on every tear-filled night there was a furry, black, kind creature that wouldn’t leave her side. I know this because I’ve seen the love she holds for an animal that saved her life.
I will never understand the full extent of the bond between my wife and this dog. I’ve only seen an animal that can hardly see or move, let alone play. I see the love in her eyes, and I know he used to play. He always comforted. He was always there for her.
Now his time has come. I know this will be one of the hardest things my wife ever goes through. Maybe the hardest thing since she changed her whole life to come back home. He was there for her then. He can’t be there for her anymore. I know he’s been waiting. He’s been waiting for me. I now must replace the perfect, never ending, never ceasing, never decreasing love and devotion of your creature. He wouldn’t leave her. Now he must. I’ll love her and care for her to the best of my ability. I hope to come close to the love of a dog for his girl.
I don’t know where my wife would be without a fluffy, black dog. I don’t know if I ever would have met her. In a million ways we would have never crossed paths. If not for a dog, she wouldn’t be in my life. If not for the many nights of comfort when she didn’t know if she could do it. If not for every time he nuzzled her tears and begged for a pat on the head. If not for his love, who knows where my wife would be?
You knew my wife needed a dog. You sent the perfect one.
Now it’s his time to move on. I’m sure it means there’s a child or an individual who needs him more. You sent an angel in a fluffy, black, four-legged body to bring light to a home and to a young girl. Now he’s needed elsewhere. I pray only that I can love her as he loved her. Support her as he supported her. Comfort her as he comforted her.
You are a Father who loves us so much. You send creatures to save our lives. You love us in many ways, including through the loving eyes of a puppy.
No Coincidences 