Nov. 1985 —– April 7 2000
German Shepherd
In December of 1985 my grandfather lost his battle with lung cancer.
Just a few weeks later my younger brother came home with a
German Shepherd puppy. At first the family really didn’t want a dog
but it wasn’t too long before we decided we’d keep this little guy.
All you had to do was to look in his brown eyes to know that he would be a
good pet to have around.
The next step was to figure out a name for him. Naming a pet is
important in several ways:
you hope to pick a name that fits his or her personality; you also want
something that is meaningful to you; and if you’re lucky is something fun.
Being influenced by my high school French classes I somehow
convinced the family to choose the name “Faux Pas.”
In one way we were concerned he might be a “mistake,” we weren’t
sure if we were up to taking care of a puppy just at the moment.
But it was also a play on words – after all he had four paws…
Over his 15-years Faux Pas became a friend a protector a companion.
He was with us through good times and bad always ready to go for a ride to
the drive-in to get vanilla ice cream or to share popcorn with us.
Even when our family was no longer an unit he was still our family dog.
My brother and I grew up…our parents divorced…we graduated from
college… we started careers…we got married.. we had our own families.
But still Faux Pas was our dog.
In 1995 as my father became ill we re-adopted Faux Pas.
I’m still not sure how he felt about my husband and I’s Black Lab “Boston.”
Or how Boston felt about suddenly losing “alpha” status…
But after a few months they must’ve come to some arrangement and any
appearance of sibling rivalry ended.
The last few months Faux Pas had trouble eating and with incontinence.
A trip to the vet gave the not-so-good prognosis. I knew what we would have to do
but I didn’t want to. After all he had been with us for a long time and he still
seemed to be able to move okay.
Unfortunately he grew worse and my brother convinced me it was time.
“There is no need for him to suffer,” he told me. I agreed.
On Friday April 7 2000 we said good-bye to our faithful friend.
My brother and I took him to the vet to be put to sleep.
I knew I had made the right choice when I lifted him up into the car.
His fur and frame had hidden much of his weight loss and I was stunned
at how easily I could lift him. Before when he was at 80 pounds if he
didn’t want to do something – you couldn’t make him do it!
This was a difficult heart-wrenching decision to make.
I know that anyone out there who has had to make such a decision
understands the complexity and the sadness of losing your friend.
But in the end the dog we thought might have been a mistake – wasn’t.
He was the best part of our lives.
Cezanne
| Faux Pas |