My little Man Hugh Can we have him? That was the question my daughters asked me nineteen years ago, as I pulled up in the car pool line at their school. In the arms of my eldest ,who years later confessed that she thought that he was a baby Rottweiler, was a tiny little Black and Tan puppy (Rat Terrier) with huge pointy ears. We decided that his name would be Hugh. When we brought tiny Hugh home, he could fit in the palms of my two hands. My fierce male tabby and white cat named Honey looked at Hugh quizzically and as if preparing to stalk him. Tiny Hugh hid under a big chair. Eventually Honey realized that Hugh made a most excellent companion and helped Hugh grow up to be a very sweet dog that loved and was loved by cats. Although Hugh grew to be only the size of one of those cats, he quickly developed a very calm and self possessed big dog personality and soon fell deeply in love with a beautiful Chocolate Labrador, Cokie Weaver, who lived just two doors down. Cokie loved Hugh very much too, but in a purely platonic manner, and consistently rejected any romantic overtures from Hugh by simply standing up. Even after being neutered, he seemed to never completely give up on the idea that he and Cokie were meant to be together. Being a very determined little man, Hugh definitely got into his fair share of trouble, among other things, tunneling his way through a couch while I was out of town and Timmy was at work. Timmy came home to what looked like piles of snow everywhere, springs hanging out of the couch, and an angry looking Hugh sporting a serious Santa beard made of white couch fluff. During this same period, Timmy took Hugh on many walks in downtown Asheville. Hugh, being quite the ladies man, never failed to attract attention, affection, and comments from passersby. On one such occasion a six year old girl got excited when she saw Hugh, pointed at him and said Look Mommy, theres a Doberman! and the Mother said No Honey thats a Rottweiler. Fortunately, most of my work allowed me to have Hugh as my almost constant companion, even to the point of having some very understanding clients allow us to bring him along to job sites where he would follow Timmy or me from room to room. Eventually (3 1/2 years ago) we adopted a sweet nine year old poodlington terrier, as Timmy calls him, named Angel who kept our Hugh company and helped with his separation anxiety during our occasional outings without them. Alas, today we are the ones suffering the separation...in saying farewell to our most cherished and beloved Hugh. It was so easy to forget that bringing that funny little puppy into our family meant that we were basically agreeing to have our hearts devastated in the not distant enough future. I do realize that nineteen years is a very long life for a dog and I feel a bit greedy for feeling that it is not enough. It is difficult to express the depth of loss I am feeling for my dear friend and constant companion. Of course we dearly love all of our furry ones, but there are those that bind themselves so firmly to our hearts that we are forever marked, a constant reminder of what it means to love completely and unconditionally, a precious pain at their absence, and the clear knowledge that this little being is utterly irreplaceable. In between all the weeping for my sweet little man, I like to imagine that our Hugh is now happily romping with Cokie and his other big crush, an extremely lovely Rottweiler mix named Star...and...that he is contentedly waiting...for us to come home.
Posted on: Sat, 25 Oct 2014 14:56:56 +0000
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