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In Memoriam
Brigid
A dog’s devotion.
Let me tell you about my Brigid, who entered immortality yesterday at about 9 PM, PDT, lying on a dark green chaise next to our pool in Beverly Hills. I know I wrote about her recently as if she were already about to die. But she rallied and lived longer.
About two weeks ago though, she weakened dramatically. She could barely walk — except when she really wanted to. She lost control of her bowels, which was a considerable problem for a dog who slept next to her mother (my wife) and (rarely) her husband (me). She could not go up and down steps except that when she really wanted to see me in my upstairs bedroom, she would drag her crippled, hunched over German Shorthaired Pointer body up the stairs painfully, walk crab like down the long hall on the second floor, and lean heavily against my door until I fetched her and put her up on the bed (sometimes a bit of a problem, see above).
She touched me so much when she went to so much painful trouble to see me that I was overwhelmed.
But then she always overwhelmed me with her devotion. For more than ten years, from when we first took her in as a rescue, she slept next to me night after night, usually on her back with her four paws up in the air.
She kept me company when I made my solitary trips to Malibu. We have a wood fireplace there and she loved lying on the ancient couch before the fireplace fast asleep to the sound of the crackling, burning logs. Then she would rouse herself and come into my room and watch the stars in outer space and the airplanes coming into LAX as the waves crashed nearby.
In the desert, she lay on the spotted chaise in front of the gas fireplace all curled up and fast sleep, again, until the middle of the night when she would get up and lie next to me, upside down, again.
Brigid was my constant companion. No matter what kind of day it was-bad stock market day, bad behavior by humans day, slander by TV personalities day — my Brigid was devoted and available.
I traveled too much and was away from her too much, and she missed me and I missed her. My wife reported that Brigid was often sad when I traveled. She would always stand waiting at the door as I came with my heavy, Willy Loman type suitcases, and her step would become far bolder and stronger as I settled in.
We (wifey and I) took her for walks around the neighborhood along with our other dogs, especially Susie, who entered immortality a few years ago (Dalmatian mix). Brigid pulled and sniffed and was happy.
Time passed. Her brown fur turned gray and then white in places. Brigid’s gait became unsteady. She could not climb stairs. When she tried to descend stairs, she often slid painfully down them, but always pulled herself together, gathered her pride, and walked on about the house, the unquestioned Alpha Dog of the Garden of the Finzi Steins.
More time passed. She became weaker. The two other German Shorthaired Pointers began to challenge Brigid’s dominance if I were not at home. Her bowel habits became extremely questionable. Starting about a year ago, her bowel habits became uncomfortably predictable at night. Only my wife, a COMPLETE SAINT, who also has no sense of smell, could tolerate so much foul smell so my wife wound up sleeping next to Brigid most nights. I slept down the hall. I am not a saint and when I did sleep with Brigid, I did not like being awakened the way she did it.
More time passed. Brigid had to be carried up and down the stairs every time, even when there were only a few stairs. Then she could not walk on wooden floors and then not on tile. Her poor back legs would give out and she would fall in a heap, still with a dignified look on her face.
When Alex fed her anywhere near the other dogs, they would attack her viciously. My wife got in the middle and got bitten badly at least twice.
We debated putting her down over and over. But then I would take her out to the beach house by myself, with no other dogs, no other humans, and she would rally, even walking up and down stairs by herself. I would think she was having a lasting recovery.
But at home in Beverly Hills, she was frail and the object of vicious attack. If you think dogs are always sweet, look at the under dogs as the Alpha Dog fades. (A good lesson about what will happen to the USA if we allow our military to be shrunk.)
About the Author
Ben Stein is a writer, actor, economist, and lawyer living in Beverly Hills and Malibu. He writes “Ben Stein’s Diary” for every issue of The American Spectator.
Letter to the Editor View all comments (46) | Leave a comment
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VAcogito| 7.11.11 @ 6:32AM
I had a dog that developed neuropathy as it sounds like yours did. He always maintained the most normal attitude when visiting the vet but had lost complete bladder and bowel control. The day we had him put down was one of his best hours in months. I question my sanity when I am missing him, but he was suffering. The embarrasment of losing control was too much for him.
I am sorry for your loss. It is a great loss.
The Bishop| 7.11.11 @ 6:54AM
Ben, you know how to evoke tears. May God, Who dearly loves rescues (including we human rescues) watch Brigid for you until you're reunited.
Dave| 7.11.11 @ 10:56AM
What a beautiful comment. Thank you.
masly | 7.12.11 @ 2:05AM
I was sure it was a sign he would be okay, but he was still 17 years old, and there's no reversing that. The next day I drove him to the vet (crying hard enough that I was probably a danger to other drivers), and held him as the vet gave him those same two shots.
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Lawrence Boccardi| 7.11.11 @ 7:07AM
I haven't read this artice, because I don't pay attention to Mr. Stein anymore. I stopped doing so, when he acknowledged that he contributed to the Senatorial campaign of Al Franken. My displeasure with him only increased with his recent support for TAX INCREASES to reduce the deficit/debt. So, I'm sure I can handle it as I wish, but why do you, an alleged conservative organ, continue to feature him?
Melvin| 7.11.11 @ 7:21AM
Blow it out your ass Lawrence. Ben is mourning the loss of his dear, dear four legged friend and if you had a shred of decency in your miserable carcass, you would give the man a break.
Ben is writing about his beloved pet because it helps him and his family cope with Bridgid's passing.
So close your infantile pie-hole.
chuck| 7.11.11 @ 7:37AM
Some people have no sense of decency, at all.
Best just to ignore them.
Lawrence, I feel sorry for your complete lack of understanding; what goes around, comes around.
As a dog-lover, who has had to bury way too many beloved pets, my sympathies, Ben, and may Brigid rest in peace.
Occam's Tool| 7.30.11 @ 2:34PM
He contributed to the Senatorial Campaign of Franken? Stein helped bring us ObamaCare? What a scumbag.
Lawrence Boccardi| 7.11.11 @ 8:49AM
Wonderful Melvin, how articulate. If Ben wants to write about his pet, let him do so in the AKA newsletter. Don't you worry your pretty little head about my degree of decency.
Bob K.| 7.11.11 @ 9:54AM
Lawrence, get some sleep, roll over and get out of bed on the right side. So, you hate Ben Stein! Does Leo Rosten's quote about W. C. Fields apply to you otherwise? "Any one who hates babies and dogs can't be all bad!"
scythe| 7.11.11 @ 10:14AM
Hey, Lawrence. I love dogs. I cannot abide Ben Stein. I thought you made that perfectly clear. Apparently not. Some want to get their rocks off with public moral preening. I think W.C. Fields had a quote about that too. Most of Stein's columns lately have been too cutsey by half. My sympathies on the death of your beloved pooch Mr. Stein, but please..stop writing like all of us are sitting here thinking how cute and precious your musings are.
Lawrence Boccardi| 7.11.11 @ 10:56AM
Thanks, Scythe.
Bob K.| 7.11.11 @ 2:12PM
Can't get by without making a snide, silly remark, eh Scythe!
It's a free country. I've disagreed with lots of the stuff he wrote, but Stein can write what he likes in this publication even if we disagree or dislike it.
As long as his editors allow him to do so.
Now, what other parts of the Bill of Rights offend you and Lawrence the sorehead?
scythe| 7.11.11 @ 4:44PM
"Can't get by without making a snide, silly remark, eh Scythe!" Got one right. At least. LOL
Kathy S| 8.22.11 @ 3:15PM
Did you ever think about just not coming here, if things are that much not to your liking? You're free to do that. Certainly, whatever Ben is or isn't, is pretty much a matter in God's hands. When we need you to be The Judge, we'll send you a telegram.
Thanks for the article, Ben. I have a cat who is twelve now, and starting to look a little threadbare compared to his glory days when he was sixteen pounds, and something like picking up a large pillow. I know he's going in the general direction of GloryLand, and it does make me a little sad, although we have some time, as much as God will allow us. I'm 58 now, and in all my life, I've never had a better friend. He's so tuned in to me that he knows when I'm sick. And, he knows how to get me well too.... large doses of love generally will fix anything.
Are they not a gift from God, our animals? I think God must hand pick them, just for us, because He really loves us so much.
Occam's Tool| 7.11.11 @ 11:33AM
C'mon. It's about his dog. I don't agree with Harlan Ellison politically AT ALL, but he wrote a beautiful bit about his dog in "The Deathbird."
Sorry about the dog, Ben. (1, 2, 3 beats.)
Back to politics: are you crazy saying we're undertaxed? How is taking money away from investors going to help our economy?
See, Larry, that's the way to do it.
Jean| 7.11.11 @ 9:37AM
My condolences. RIP Brigid.
Bob K.| 7.11.11 @ 9:47AM
You probably were not blessed with a dog in your childhood and youth, Ben? I'll bet that is correct.
I grew up in a rural area and we had a number of them. I loved them all and they returned that love exponentially. I remember all of them fondly and could fill up a small book with memories of them. We never allowed them to sleep with us and only a couple of the smaller ones, terriers, shared our house with us. The bigger ones, beagles and hounds, lived outside in the living quarters we made for them in the garage and out buildings and they were very happy there.
I attended college in the Washington DC area about the same time you were growing up in the Silver Spring area. It would have been difficult to keep a dog in any area around DC. At least in the way that I knew a dog should grow up. But those days are gone now in most places and fortunately dogs can adapt to our urban style of living with proper care and maintenance.
Thanks for the reminiscence!
Dan D| 7.11.11 @ 10:10AM
Deepest condolences, Ben, and don't second guess yourself. You did the right thing, and Brigid is no longer suffering. I know the day will come when my own Shorthair will pass from my life, and I can't bear to think of it. These really are very special dogs, and they are blessings in our lives every day. Be thankful for the times you had together.
Oldefarte| 7.11.11 @ 11:18AM
Ben: It is extremely difficult to write this response, as my tears of sadness are blurring my vision. She obviously was a great friend/companion, as is the case with most all of our pets. I have two adopted cats [Boo & Scout, from guess what novel] who live only to be loved and to give theirs in return. The ASCPA's renewed TV commercial concerning same is truly heart warming in its message of the truth of cruelty of dogs/cats that sadly occurs all too frequently. As your previous reporting of her ill health from age had left us wondering as to her current condition, I am again extremely sad to hear of her ending but also am joyed in knowing that her life of care from your family was a great source of happiness for her entire lifetime. Take care!!!!!!!!!
Don| 7.11.11 @ 12:32PM
I feel your pain Mr. Stein - my Black Lab and great friend "Doc" had to be put down too. His last day, I took the after noon off, BBQ'd a 20 oz. T-bone for him, and watched him eat it and then wash it down with Ice Water, then he took a nap on the floor while we waited for the Vet to come put him down - he was 17 yrs old - had a great life but could not get up any more - I kissed him good by as the Vet gave him his shot - he's waiting for me in doggy heaven. It still hurts eight years later.
Chef Schnauzer| 7.11.11 @ 1:02PM
I have met maybe 2 humans who have displayed the innate nobility and sublime qualities of a dog well loved. Most humans have become pointless because they choose to give up on Godly behavior - I rescue Schnauzers because they have to be trained away from God but do come back given half a chance. God bless the Stein family in their loss.
John.in.Georgia| 7.11.11 @ 2:39PM
Mr. Stein, I completely understand the depth of the loss of your faithful companion that you and your wife are experiencing. On Nov. 15 of last year at 2:55 pm, my wife and I lost our beloved 23 1/2 year old cat named HiRise. She was the lone survivor of a litter born under a wood pile at a friend's house. Her littermates more than likely killed by another cat or wild animal. And because of this trauma at the beginning of her life, she was the proverbial scardy cat - only allowing my wife and I to see her. Like you and your wife, my wife and I miss her terribly and I still stop and stoop over at her favorite sleeping spot at the upper corner of the bed and whisper to her that we miss her and still love her and kiss the spot hoping to catch a whiff of her scent. That sweet little girl was with me for almost half my life and I still get tears in my eyes (like right now) when I think of her. Tomorrow is my birthday and, if I was lucky enough to find that magic genie lamp offerring up three wishes, I would ask to see my deceased mother one more time so I could give her a big kiss and hug and tell her how much I love her and my other wish would be to be able to lay there on my back one more time petting our HiRise and looking into her eyes looking back with her motor purring and then laying her head on my chest as we listend to life's noises and napped. And I would give the third wish to you, so you and your wife could have your Brigid back for a little while longer when she was healthy and rambuctious to do the same. Happy trails Mr. and Mrs. Stein.
Dave| 7.12.11 @ 9:28AM
Happy Birthday, John. Many thanks for your beautiful (but heartbreaking) comment.
NotPropagandized| 7.11.11 @ 3:31PM
Ben - Our world would be much better with more people like you. Embarrassingly (late), my first encounter with you was your wonderful article years ago about your father and his passing. You have a remarkable skill to appeal to our emotions and unselfish love for others. I'll remember you always for your sharing that part of your life - I really don't recall the details, but the impression is indelible.
Admittedly, I've been disappointed recently on the political side in our current times of fiscal emergency and your desire to compromise on the strong-medicine-principles that seem necessary in the trashing of the US economy and culture. It seems there has been so much compromise over the years that we're REALLY in trouble and I'd like to start over and have the US government get out of the compassion business. Why do I divert to politics?
Because I remember a world, as much injustice existed at the time, where we were populated by many people with your feeling and care for others that truly made a difference in the lives of others and enriched our communities. Imagine if we had an army of BenSteins scattered throughout our country, then we could withdraw the meddling of the US government and somehow recapture that NormanRockwell existence. Yes, bad things would still happen and there would be injustice and compassion would be lacking in a serious way in a lot of places, but is that not true today that injustice reigns as the US government seems determined to keep people from suffering no matter what the cost, even existential cost?
Suffering, if it does not kill or maim us, incentivizes our natural instinct to survive, somehow. I think BenSteins would inspire people with different names to also care and feel as you do. Thank you for sharing these emotions that have aged and cured over a long time, even with a loved pet. As a man with a wonderful family, it feels good to love you as a complete unknown person with true compassion for his fellow man and creature....
ronald weddle| 7.11.11 @ 3:47PM
Ah Ben, it is so hard. Just put down one of my rescue goldies about a month ago due to cancer. As i type this another 15year old border collie is asleep at my feet. Doesn't smell too good anymore, has trouble with tile and the hind legs, and the questions of what is right for her more frequent. And my other rescue goldie, the one with no rear hip sockets because nobody cared enough, diabetic, and with two bullets in him. Or the youngest one with the physical and emotional scars i recently found out is subject to siezure. Took almost two years of kindness to get him to accept him due to his trauma. I am sure you know Dog is God spelled backwards. They have the traits that saints are made of. Know another understands your doubts and loss. It's my attempt to reach out. I recently watched a small utube video on the porcelin unicorn. Humanity can be found in the depths of despair. God bless.
Ned the Red| 7.11.11 @ 3:53PM
Last week when I read about Ben's dog it prompted me to write about an experience I had the preceding week. Its long for a post, but I felt better for writing it.
Kato
Last Friday afternoon while on the way to feed the cat I was met by an enormous Black Labrador dog. I had no fear; it was obvious he was a friendly dog. It was also evident he was old and plagued with arthritis.
It was a hot day and he had been lying by my, still under construction, drinking fountain. Knowing he needed shade I opened the gate to the backyard which he proceeded to go through as if he had done so all his life. I then borrowed the cat’s water bowl and filled it to the rim with fresh cold water, which he quickly drank. There is a covered deck and tree to provide shade which he immediately found and took advantage of. He seemed content knowing he was safe.
Seeing a large worn leather collar I was hopeful for a good ending, but my hopes were dashed when it carried no tag. I went inside and called the lady at the town office (I live in a very small town) to check if anyone was missing a dog; she knew of no one.
Later I checked with the woman who waters the town’s flowers; she knew someone who owned such a dog. She gave me their number and I hoped soon to see a happy reunion of dog and human. But it wasn’t to be, their dog was home. I checked with the neighbors, but had no luck. He would spend the night with us.
I have three small Pomeranians who were quite interested in this new invader of their kingdom. No doubt the older female took the credit for luring him here with the carefully placed bait she distributes for male dogs on the route of our morning walks.
He spent a quiet evening and a cool summer night on our deck (porch) sleeping against the house. First thing in the morning my dogs all ran to the glass sliding door to see if their new visitor was still present. He was, and in regal fashion arose and looked down on his yapping new acquaintances with benign tolerance.
Later while walking my dogs I spotted our town’s man of all jobs, including dog catcher, Steve. He said someone probably dumped him off from one of the neighboring towns, happens all the time, and he could swing by and pick the dog up in the early afternoon. I hesitated, thinking he could stay for the weekend, but the reality of growing attached to, and of caring for another dog in addition to the three I already have hit me, and I said that would be fine.
I was still having a hard time accepting that he was abandoned; since he was obviously a well cared for dog. It was hard to imagine his owner committing so cruel an act after years of loyal friendship. Then it occurred to me, perhaps his master was elderly, sick, or had died. Then others not so capable of reciprocating that loyalty by dealing with his care or fate left their burden for others to carry.
When I returned from my walk he was stretched out on his side in the morning shade enjoying the cool grass under our tree. Maybe his dreams took him back, or perhaps forward, to a place where he slept beside his loving master; to a place that would never come to an end. I happened to take a closer look at his Collar and noticed some impressions in the leather, this time with my reading glasses on. The name KATO boldly stood out stamped on his collar. Speaking the name he painfully jumped to his feet; I now had a lead.
Quick calls were made to the local veterinarian’s offices. They were asked if they treated any patients named KATO, none did that fit his description. We have a local radio station with a program for selling items on the air which also serves as a lost and found. I called and reported his story along with my phone number to call, no one called.
It was approaching noon and time for our weekly trip to the store, so before leaving I made sure Kato had plenty of water. He was content and seemed to have no desire to be on his way. The night before I gave him dog treats and some of the small sized dry food fed to my little dogs. He looked up at me with a confused and questioning look which said, “This isn’t what I eat,” but the look soon enough changed to appreciation as he struggled to his feet to eat. At the store I would buy him the best canned dog food possible so he could eat when we returned, but as soon as we pulled in the driveway the city’s man of all jobs, Steve, drove in behind us. It was time for Kato to go.
In our area people who have lost dogs almost always call in and listen to the radio program I had called earlier in the day. I was sure if his owner was searching my call would have been heard and by now a message would be waiting on my answering service. Loaded down with grocery sacks I hurried into the house hoping to find a message from Kato’s owner; there was none.
When I had called the veterinarian’s office, which doubles as the county dog pound, they said they keep dogs for ten days if no one claims them, after that time period the animal is put down. Since Kato was old and crippled it was likely his days were now numbered.
Kato knew something was up when he saw all of us heading to the yard, though barely acquainted, he recognized and headed for me when the gate was opened. He then noticed my little granddaughter, who he towered over, and headed for her wearing a huge dog smile. He then received what probably would be his last hug from a loving child. Steve had done this job before and it was plain to see he did not like it, but it was his task to perform which he carried out in an efficient and kind way. He called the dog by name and took over leading him to the truck; he was his new temporary master. When the pickup’s tailgate was dropped Kato knew what to do and with a little help from Steve got into the truck. For safety Steve tied him with a leash hooked in the front of the bed. Then they drove away; I turned my head, something was in my eye.
It has been long enough that I am sure the big black dog has been put down. I tell myself, maybe someone took him home, but I cannot bring myself to call the pound and find out. The folks working there can have one of the hardest jobs around. I console myself by thinking of all the reasons Kato could not find a home here. My actions were meager, but I can find solace in knowing my efforts gave him one more hot summer afternoon to lay in the shade of a tree and dream, one more cool summer night to sleep in peace on the back porch of a masters home (even if temporary master) and one more sunny morning filled with the noise of birds and refreshed life, resting on dew covered grass instead of concrete.
I don’t know if dogs have souls or a place in heaven. I hope, no I pray that they do. I pray that when their service to man on this earth ends the glory of God’s grace shines brightly on them, and He allows that they find a permanent place of earned love. Like a small child I hope and pray there is a doggy heaven.
chuck| 7.11.11 @ 9:17PM
Of course dogs go to heaven. They are a gift from God, and it surely would not be heaven without them.
Cug Smith| 7.13.11 @ 3:40PM
There was a great episode on the old Twilight Zone concerning dogs going to heaven. In the story an old hunter and his dog drown in a lake while hunting racoons. At a gate in the afterlife, the gatekeeper refuses to let the dog accompany the hunter, saying that there is a separate place they will send the dog. The old hunter says that he isn't going in without his dog, and continues down the path. He meets an angel at a second gate, who tells him that he and his dog are welcome to come through. The old hunter tells the angel about his experience at the first gate and that it's a helluva place that wont let dogs in. The angel responds that the hunter is probably more correct than he thinks, because the first gatekeeper wanted to keep the dog out because the dog (unlike a man) would have smelled the brimstone and warned him if they entered the first gate.
Ronald Weddle| 7.11.11 @ 3:53PM
I must add in response to some of the comments that I love Ben Stein's writings, for many years.
I have been an investment professional for about 40years and can relate to his background in that area. I relate more to the humanity he reflects in his articles that help me to aspire to be a better person than i really am. Thank you again for this.
Chris Ruetenik| 7.11.11 @ 4:11PM
What a touching story. I have been following Ben Stein's diary for a while now, and I look forward to every single piece. He is a wonderful writer, a smart fella, and a great human being.
Chris Ruetenik| 7.11.11 @ 4:29PM
A Pet's Prayer
Treat me kindly... my "beloved" master, for no heart in the world is more grateful for kindness than mine.
Do not break my spirit with a stick... for although I should lick your hand between blows your patience...
and understanding will teach me more quickly the things you would have me do.
Speak to me often.. for your voices are the world's sweetest music... as you must know by the fierce wagging of my tail when I hear your step...
When the weather is cold and wet please take me inside.. for I am a domesticated animal... no longer used to bitter elements...
I ask no greater glory than the privilege of sitting at your feet. Keep my pan filled with fresh water... for although I should not reproach you were it dry... I can't tell you when I suffer thirst...
Feed me clean food so that I may stay well, to romp and play and do your bidding, to walk by your side standing ready to protect you with my life... should your life... be in danger.
And master... when I am very old and the Greatest Master... sees fit to deprive me of my health and sight... do not turn me away.
Rather... see that my trusting life is gently taken away... and I shall leave you knowing...
with the last breath I draw, my fate was always safest in your hands.
Amen.
Nancy Kaster| 7.11.11 @ 4:36PM
My husband and I had a beloved GSP named Yogi that we had to let go of about 4 years ago, there is nothing like a GSP, they are the sweetest, most loving dogs ever. Sorry about your loss - I know it's hard, but she'll be there to greet you in heaven some day and with new legs and ready to go! God Bless.
Marshall Akins | 7.11.11 @ 8:24PM
There's just nothing like the love of a man and his dog, and vice-versa. Hug those other dogs and smile about the good times with Brigid. Good dog Brigid.
Dennis Collins| 7.11.11 @ 8:26PM
Bless you and Brigid. there are no finer companions (besides your wife) than a dog who unconditionally loves you. Our shelter dogs are our family and closest friends. Thank you for your writings through the years about your animals. Take care Ben.
Jon| 7.11.11 @ 9:48PM
Ben, a great article, as usual. I've lost a dog to natural causes, and had a dog and a cat put down; there's no need to second-guess yourself, as there's NO good way to lose your friend. My cat was losing his tongue to cancer, yet the day before "the day", he was spry enough to run down a bird in our front yard. I was sure it was a sign he would be okay, but he was still 17 years old, and there's no reversing that. The next day I drove him to the vet (crying hard enough that I was probably a danger to other drivers), and held him as the vet gave him those same two shots. My head knows there was no other way...my heart never wants to agree.
Andrew Branca| 7.11.11 @ 11:09PM
Why did you make this poor animal suffer to this degree? It seems monstrous. Explanation?
RJ| 7.12.11 @ 2:51AM
God was in a most heavenly charitable mood when he created dogs. They truly are man's best friend. We probably can never live up to their devotion, but they love us anyway. A good dog is a joy you feel for the rest of your life. Mine has been gone for 40 years, but returns in my dreams.
I offer my condolences to you, Ben and rest in peace Brigid.
weddingdress | 7.12.11 @ 5:13AM
My husband and I had a beloved GSP named Yogi that we had to let go of about 4 years ago, there is nothing like a GSP, they are the sweetest, most loving dogs ever. Sorry about your loss - I know it's hard, but she'll be there to greet you in heaven some day and with new legs and ready to go! God Bless.
jo blo| 7.12.11 @ 8:33AM
Who knows if the spirit of man rises upward and if the spirit of the animal* goes down into the earth?"
Ecclesiastes 3:21 (NIV)
(Also the wording of the Vulgate, Septuagint and other ancient translations...)
DarrenG| 7.12.11 @ 1:53PM
Ben, my condolences to you and your family. I'm a dog owner myself (female English Mastiff named Bella). She's the world to my wife and I. I'm amazed every day the wonderful gift God has given us with the dog. Life just isn't worth living without them. I hope your family's pain eases with time and that you find another little companion to fill that void and with whom to share the love.
Colleen| 7.12.11 @ 3:33PM
Ben, as I lay next to my crippled dachshund (three back surgeries) I understand and weep for your loss but in turn thank God that He gave us these dear ones to go through life with. You took care of Brigid and she in turn took care of you and gave you wonderful memories. "A righteous man cares for the needs of his animals." Proverbs 12:10.
Joergen Olsen | 7.12.11 @ 4:00PM
Once again thank you Mr. Stein for a wonderful article!
After having read your article I found the CD with Eric Uglum with one of the best 'dog'melodies ever made - 'Old Blue' Find it and you will smile with a tear in the eye.
Joergen - Denmark
Bob Roof| 7.14.11 @ 5:53AM
I understand on a gut level what you're up against, having been in your shoes several times. God bless. By the way, DOG is God spelled backwards..
Scott| 7.16.11 @ 8:33PM
Sorry to hear about your Brigid Ben. Dogs are truly man's best friend. She will remain alive in your heart forever. When my golden retriever died, part of me did too. Brigid gave you all the love her furry heart could. May God bless and keep you Ben!
Terry Ott| 7.20.11 @ 1:57PM
Your essay about Brigid was touching and hit close to home. Much of the same could be said about our oldest pug, whose hind legs barely function at all and who needs to have help with her bowels and bladder. Two surgeries on her spine gave her 4 added years of reasonable mobility, but a third is not doable. What's left is coping, but it is a rewarding kind of coping because of the psychic income she provides.
But I want you and your readers to know that there is a way, in some cases, to make things better for an immobile pet dog. Last December we gave Mona a two-wheeled cart for her hind quarters, and when she is in it she motors around like a proud peacock, sensing the odors in the grass, on the tree trunks, bushes, etc. And she can make her way over to friends, canine and human, and strangers on the urban sidewalks and smile up at them. I think she has a little "hey, look at me, I got it going again" in her eyes.
It's something to be considered, and works better than most people would imagine --- because along with being loyal and loving, dogs are about the most adaptable and determined beings on the planet.
I wish Congresspeople could measure up to Mona. We'd be in a much better place as a society.