Just before my beloved dog Buster died I found out we had mice.
Late in the evening, I was keeping vigil over Buster when I heard a scuttling sound in kitchen. When I looked up a brown mouse shot across the kitchen floor and dove underneath the stove. Just great. Buster had very few teeth left and when he ate lots of his kibble ended up on the floor. The mice were probably having a feast every night. Because I had so much on my emotional plate I decided not to tell my wife. I knew she’d freak. One crisis at a time.
After I put Buster to sleep I was a mess for a couple of weeks. The worst part was coming home after work and not having him amble to the door to greet me. His scent still lingered in the house and I swore I could still hear his nails clattering on the floor. One night I woke up to the sound of him barking. As was my routine those last months, I swung myself out of bed to give him a pain pill and pet him until he went to sleep. But as soon as my feet hit the floor I realized he was gone. Now he’s just some ashes in a wooden box on my china closet. After sixteen years I had become so habituated to Buster’s presence that his absence left a profound silence. His brother dog Felix is still a bit bewildered and my daughter says she misses him. Me too, honey.
When the worst of the emotional storm passed I told my wife about the mice. As I figured, she immediately pulled out the fridge and looked under the stove and found mice droppings. “We have to do something about this,” she said. “This is bad.”
I sighed. I hate killing things. Sure, I like hamburger and don’t usually think about the cow, but I’ve never been keen on snuffing things out. I tell my daughter not to squash bugs. I avoid ants on the ground. If I find a fly in the house I perform catch and release. And I had just put my dog to sleep. I knew it was an act of mercy but I found it very unnatural to walk into the vet’s office with a live, albeit very sick dog, and then leave without him. I just couldn’t bring myself to kill some mice.
But I have a kid and mice can bring all sorts of nasty things into your home. So I went down to the hardware store and bought some old fashioned mouse traps. “Just put peanut butter on them and that’ll get ‘em,” I said to my wife.
“What about those other traps?” she said, looking askance that the devices. “The glue strips? Or poison?”
“A mouse trap will kill them quicker,” I said dispassionately. “If their spine or neck isn’t broken instantly they’ll die from the trauma within a minute.” When Buster died he went peacefully and without distress – but that was in a controlled environment. If I had to kill something I wanted it to be quick.
The next day I found a field mouse dead in the trap. It looked like it died instantly but then again, I could have been kidding myself. Since my five year old girl thinks mice are Cinderella’s friends, I made sure she was out of sight when I fished its corpse from behind the fridge and walked to the garbage cans on the side of my house.
Looking at the dead mouse I remembered a line from the Gospel. “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care.”
“I’m sorry,” I said to the dead mouse. “I’m very sorry.” Then I tossed him, trap and all, into the garbage.
Back in the house my daughter was playing with her toys, unaware of the tiny tragedy that had just occurred. I remembered the first thing Natalie asked me after I told her Buster died. “Is he alone? Does he have food to eat?” I know children her age are very concrete about death, but the question pained me because I didn’t have an answer. When a friend of mine’s brother died young he told me, “I find myself hoping Larry’s all right. That he’s not alone.” Where is Buster now, other than in a box on my china closet? How does it end for all creatures great and small?
I’m a bit of an amateur theologian. I think life, death and what might come after is bound up in the question of what time truly is. But the day I killed the mouse all I wanted was my dog back and all my highfaluting musings suddenly seemed hollow and empty. I don’t know a goddamn thing.
Later that night, after everyone was asleep, I went drink in hand to that box on the china closet and looked at it. Eventually I’ll do something with Buster’s remains. My wife says she’ll buy a little shelf and place him on it with his picture. Maybe I’ll bury him in the backyard he liked to sun himself in – underneath a bed of flowers with a little marker with his name on it. But until I figure it out, he’ll be on the china closet.
“You were a very good dog, Buster,” I said, toasting the box with my bourbon. “A very good dog.”
I downed my drink and went to bed, hoping Buster was in his Father’s care.
Reading this, I re-lived putting my Furever Girl to sleep, and how devastating that was. Her ashes are in a heart-shaped ceramic box with her name on, and it sits on the bottom shelf of a stand next to her Christmas stocking and my favorite picture of her. That was 11 1/2 years ago. Last summer, we adopted a dog who, coincidentally (did NOT seek that out), looks enough like her he could be her son. Every now and again, he stops in front of her shelf, sniffs, and I swear to you he wags his tail.
Our furkids aren’t alone. I don’t know where they are, but I know they’re playing together, having fun, and waiting for us. Oh, and they’re digging through the trash and chewing up random shoes because that’s okay now.
I am so SO sorry about Buster. I’ve loved reading about him over the years, and he was clearly a very special boy.
Please accept my deepest condolences, it is so difficult to lose a pet. We’ve had to put 2 geriatric dogs down last year. My Abby was 17 and my fiancé’s dog Bo was 12. We still miss them to this day even though there are 2 new puppies to keep us busy. They will always stay in our hearts and memories. Hopefully we’ll be reunited with them some day, for now they are out of pain and not suffering anymore. I hope they are chasing squirrels and eating lots of cookies.
Buster was a very good dog and he had a very good home with lots of love.
Beautiful reflection. Thank you for sharing. There is a children’s book by Molly Bang called In My Heart. It’s out of print, but you can usually find used copies on Amazon. It’s a lovely reflection on where kids are when their parents go to work. They’re “In my heart.” in my family, that phrase has taken on deeper meaning. Where is grandma now? In my heart. Where is Ava, our beloved pet? In our hearts. Where is Buster? In your heart.
Dammit… This gutted me… both about Buster and the mouse… My pupper is still under my feet and only going to be 7 soon… But, I’m already dreading that day hopefully far in the future…
But, glad you have an outlet to push these emotions to… Be well…
So sorry about Buster. It’s so difficult. When I had to put my 17 year old cat to sleep, I took the day off work and just mourned him. I hope he’s sleeping in a sunbeam somewhere. I hope we all find our sunbeam someday.
Good boy, Buster. Good dog.
RIP sweet Buster <3 Hugs!
You can rest assured that somewhere Buster is putting his “getting some booty” sense to good use.
My partner lost his cat nearly a year ago. I was heartbroken too and it wasn’t even my cat! The poor bugger was hit by a car at the age of 2… Pets will always hold a place in our hearts. I’m sure they are all running across the rainbow bridge. May the good boy Buster rest in peace <3
So very sorry for the loss of your beloved Buster. As all who have lost a 4-pawed companion know, you will mourn and grieve, and for a while, your subconscious will continue to look for him even though you know he is gone. Although you will always miss him, eventually another furry companion will come into your life and make its own place in your heart and home.
Remember, life is a series of dogs (or cats!).
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has beenespecially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There aremeadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and playtogether. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warmand comfortable.
All theanimals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those whowere hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember themin our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content,except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, whohad to be left behind.
They all run and play together, butthe day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His brighteyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from thegroup, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster andfaster.
You have been spotted, and when youand your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion,never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your handsagain caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes ofyour pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridgetogether….
Author unknown…
https://www.rainbowsbridge.com/Poem.htm