R.I.P. Mike Dog Bunn – 12/5/2001 to 4/28/2013
Today was a very bad day for me. When I woke up this morning, I did not think I would end my Sunday without my boy Mikey.
Mike has not always been well. He has had epilepsy for 9 years. That has not been easy but we made it through. And he had hypothyroidism and the hair fell out of his back. It wasn’t always very pretty. And he took meds to counteract the liver damage he was getting from taking phenobarbital since 2004. He had seizures still but he was OK as soon as they were over. So we carried on.
Tonight before he left me, I reviewed with him all the things he had done over the years. He ate about 12 pairs of shoes, an antique Victorian brocade love seat, the leg of my dining room chair, part of a lighted loupe and the plastic case surrounding it which lodged in his intestine and had to be surgically removed. He had of late, taken up removing dirty laundry from the basket and eating that. He also ate the single most expensive piece of clothing I had ever bought – a black sweater from Chico. Last winter, he ate a whole batch of oatmeal cookies that my mother had just baked for my father. He left about 5. My father said he thought Mike might have licked them but he ate them anyway. He got in a fight with my sister’s dog through a window, managed to break the glass and it jabbed into Scooter’s nose and created copious blood loss. I did love my trouble-maker. I like bad boys. Ask anyone who knows me.
Mike was a drinker. He hasn’t had much of a chance to do that lately since I’ve been on the wagon, but Mike had a past. He was very sneaky. He loved beer. One time when he was a pup, he drank a whole Black Russian. He was not a rowdy drunk. The night of the Black Russian thievery, he hopped up on the bed and went to sleep. I checked to see if he had a hangover in the morning and it appeared he did not.
Mike loved to go fishing. We throw our fish in a bucket on the boat. He stuck his head in the bucket and stared at the fish. We called that “Dog Television”.
Mike took a long road-trip with me in 2005. We drove from here to Baltimore, on to Tennessee, Austin, New Orleans, Florida and back home again. He was a good traveler – loved the car. He understood the word and started bouncing when I said it. He was with me for endless trips to Maine. I loved having him in the back seat – my constant companion.
I feel like I’m having a bad dream from which I need to wake up. But I know that is not true.
No one will steal my coffee anymore.
I have spent over 11 years with Mike and I didn’t want to be the one to leave him. Tonight, when it was his time, we lay down on a blanket. He was weak. I wrapped my arms around him. And I whispered in his ear. I loved him and he loved me and I wanted the last thing he heard to be my voice.
Mikey. You are the best boy anyone could ever have. You are my very good boy. Mama loves you. Good Boy. Good Boy. There you go. Easy my good boy. Mama loves.
And he was gone. Just like that. But he will never be gone from my heart. Never.