For Our Beloved Ben
The awkward puppy who’s only inappropriate chewing was teething on the 150-year old pine floorboard.
The gentlest boy who’d take a piece of popcorn from my mouth and I’d barely feel his whiskers brush my face.
The pup who’d never flinch when getting shots or blood drawn at the vet. Not even once.
The rare dog who’d drool for cucumbers.
The best friend who’d sit by my side, head on my armrest, as I cried and cried over my divorce, never leaving until petting him got me up and moving again.
The boy who’d play with his ball and, even from the time he was a pup, would come get me if it rolled under a piece of furniture rather than risk knocking anything over… in fact, the only time he ever knocked anything over was accidental with his always-happily-wagging tail.
(And for the special few who were dearest to his heart, he wagged his ‘circle tail’ to express his joy at seeing us walk thru the door.)
The greedy pet-hog who’d walk over the foot of your crossed leg so that you could rub his tummy with your toes.
The goofball who’d jump up and down whenever the word ‘walk’ was even spelled out. Every time. For all of his nearly 13 years.
The protector of the yard from all creatures of squirrel, rabbit, or bird origin.
The webbed-footed pup who ironically hated getting his paws wet.
The copious shedder who left ‘dust-Bennies’ all over the house on a daily basis.
The little guy who always snuggled in to be the little spoon with his momma on the bed each night, allowing me to stroke his floppy ears and pet his super soft fur until we both lulled to sleep.
The doggie I wondered if I did enough for, yet he always made me feel like I did more than enough.
The boy who never complained when he didn’t feel well.
The sweetheart who only showed us on his very last day that things were not going to get better.
The newest angel who has left his pawprints on my soul and his thumping, wagging tail in my heart.
My snuggle hound. My noble steed. My best buddy.
“Ben was a wonderful dog and I can see from his memorial page, a true companion to his Mom, Maria. I will always remember his sweet nature and those beautiful multicolored eyes! I feel fortunate to have known him and will remember him as the happy go lucky gentle giant that he was.” —Dr. Schepis
“So sorry for your loss, Ben was such an amazing dog.” –Holly
“I’m sorry. Words cannot describe my deepest sympathy for you.” –Friend
“I know the joy of raising a dog just like Ben. A gentle giant. Please accept my sympathy on your loss. It is a very rough time when they pass. My prayers are sent your way.” -Debbie
“My thoughts and prayers are with you. I am so very sorry for your painful loss.” –Brenda Sauka
“I’m very sorry for your loss. Sending hugs to all of Bens family. Xoxo” –Jen