Friday, July 14, 2023

A Sad Anniversary

Today is the 6th(?) anniversary of losing my Best Friend.
When you spend 13 years with someone and see them literally every day, their sudden loss is one of the most painful things you can imagine.

Marshall the cocker left us, due to cancer. He far outlived the expectations.
He never suffered.
He also never suffered for attention or cookies.

He had an international following online, with a Canadian wanting to visit just to walk him.
He came to work, where my boss took him around to introduce him to everyone. It was absolutely surreal.
I even put together an 'ad' for Marshall amplifiers that compared my Marshall with theirs.

Marshall became particularly adept at removing the lids from Dunkin Donuts styrofoam coffee cups.  Mrs. lefty would be driving down the road, coffee in its holder, and the next thing she knew, the cover would be missing and Marshall was nose-down in the coffee. After she replaced the lid, he'd just remove it again. He never broke anything, just took off the lid. He loved coffee. All 4 rescue cockers loved coffee. Like the rest, he also loved the couch and the bed. He had so many talents and weird habits, it endeared him even more to us. When he was sick, Wife would drive him around at strange hours, which calmed him down. The police stopped her one night, and she explained what she was doing. Within days, most of the local force knew him and would ask how he was doing. He was a force.

Marshall was huge for a cocker - about 42 lbs, none of it fat. He had his own cat, Ren, who would torture him, but you'd find them both sleeping next to each other on the couch. Marshall grieved when Ren passed.

When we first brought him home, he launched into the house and jumped right up on the couch. He was Home. While all of our dogs gravitated to The Cocker Whisperer, Mrs. lefty, Marshal and I shared a special bond. He also made friends wherever he went. When he found a really good person, like my father or BFF, he was all over them. The only thing he didn't like was high-pitched women. We figured he was abused by one.

The vet loved him, but the feeling wasn't mutual. When he passed, the vet made a donation to the large animal university hospital locally, and we got a card, signed by the entire staff of the vet. They said he was like a little human with fur. 

When he got his diagnosis, he saw the vet, as well as an acupuncturist and holistic practitioner. We feel this extended his life considerably. But the most important thing he taught me was to consciously love and appreciate. I did this during his last months. Every night in bed, he'd walk up to me and I'd scratch his ears for a bit, then he'd pick his spot and go to sleep. It was our time.

Marshall passed quietly one night and now sits in a special place, where he can watch over his people.
I will miss him forever.


Dogs (and people) shouldn't get cancer.

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