Remembering Bernie

      Bernie was born on July 5, 1998 and died February 21, 2011.  He was a cocker spaniel with many of the problems associated with cockers; poor vision, bad teeth, and later on, poor hearing.    He lived his first year and 1/2 with an elderly woman in a wheelchair and when she died, they weren't discovered for awhile, so he was very sick when they were discovered.  He was taken to one shelter which nursed him back to health and then transferred to another shelter when the time the first shelter could keep him had run out.  The second shelter nursed him some more and neutered him.  This shelter contacted the breeder who took him back and then sold him to us.  I was not impressed with the facility of that breeder; I think it qualified as a puppy mill.  When Mike's father first met Bernie, his comment was, "you paid $200 for that?"

      We took Bernie home to our two story home and he was completely puzzled by the stairs.  But he soon learned to bounce up and down the steps at will.  His first afternoon as he was exploring the back yard, he walked right into the fish pond and was quite startled (and embarrassed) as he swam out of the pond.  Poor Bernie.

       Bernie was my constant shadow.  When Mike and I first moved in together, we rented a house (neutral territory) for the first year.  We looked and looked for a rental that would accept a dog as Mike had adopted a dog a few months before we met.  He sacrificed his love of his dog to live with me, and found another good home for the dog.  So, when a year later we bought a house, we got Bernie for Mike.  But Bernie had other ideas.  He was a woman's dog and nothing was going to change that. Don't get me wrong, Mike and Bernie were very close, but if I was home, Bernie was beside me.  Once when we were fishing on a river, Mike had Bernie with him and I went upstream.  Bernie saw me an eighth of a mile upstream and jumped in the water to swim to me.  Luckily, Mike had a firm hold on Bernie's leash and could pull him back as the river took him away.

     We blamed Bernie for everything.  If the food was too hot, Bernie did it.  If something disappeared, Bernie did it.  And he never complained as we gave him responsibility for many wrong things.  If we asked Bernie to do something he didn't want to do, he hung his head like Eeyore and did whatever the unwanted deed required.  Anything just to please us!

     Bernie never went to sleep without making a bed in the grass.  Never mind that he always had a soft bed just for him nearby.  He would go round in round in circles scratching the imaginary grass into the perfect position before laying down. 

    We took Bernie on our boat a few times, but it really wasn't his favorite.  Once, we had Eileen (Mike's sister) and Mike's cousin on the boat.  Eileen had brought homemade muffins for breakfast, and then we docked in the Edmonds Marina and went to get lunch.  We left Bernie in the boat and left an opening in the camping enclosure that closed the decks of the boat on the water side, believing that Bernie would never jump in the water.  Wrong!  He did, right after he ate the remaining muffins.  Someone had found him swimming in the marina and rescued him.  When we returned, we looked everywhere for him and were very panicked.  Then the harbormaster found us.  He had Bernie and he made sure that we knew we were the worst dog owners on the planet.  We felt very bad!  But Bernie forgave us.

     

     Bernie was quite the traveler!  Always ready to get in the truck and go as long as you never made him look out the window.  He just wanted to ride near us.  Where ever we arrived, he was ready  to explore.  Whenever he was on a leash he was ready to protect us.  He would bark viciously at any other dogs while hiding behind our legs.

      We wanted Bernie to live longer for our own selfish desires, but in the end, Bernie couldn't walk and was shaking constantly from the pain he was in. We wanted to get him home, but he couldn't make it past Gulf Shores, Alabama.   We couldn't ask him to continue in that condition.  Bernie died with both Mike and I holding him and I am sure that he was relieved to be free of the pain.  If there is a dog heaven, he deserves to be there.  We will bury his ashes at home and plant a tomato plant on his grave.  He was an artist at stealing ripening tomatoes a day before I was going to pick them.  He can have all he wants!

       Bernie taught me how to love a dog.  He gave me the gift of his love for many years.  I have joked about, "God grant me the ability to be the person my dog thinks I am", however, I do actually mean it.  I don't think I will ever deserve the love Bernie gave me.  I will miss him forever.