Tank (Roonie, Tank-a-roonie, Tink-Tank) my sweet boy was taken from us suddenly yesterday. He had a traumatic seizure in front of Emily and I and then during the subsequent vet visit it was determined his organs were shutting down. We had just gotten positive news about his lab reports so we thought he was going to be with us much longer. Unfortunately, over the last week he lost his appetite and we could tell that he wasn't feeling well, we just didn't know how badly he was hurting.
Eleven years was just not enough time for this little guy that acted like a puppy and went on a walk every day without fail even at the end. I think this makes it much harder on us as he really continued to try to please us and act like he was doing okay. He will forever be the most gentle, kind, sweet dog I have ever known. His eyes, those eyes with so much expression, told a story that most people can not. He loved to give us slow, slow licks while we were petting him just to let us know how much he enjoyed it. And that one ear that cocked to the side in a funny way and made him look so darn cute. He absolutely hated something on his back, even his harness. He would scrunch up and walk like a crab when you first put his harness on for a walk which would always make us laugh. Each night at bedtime no matter how sound asleep he was he would jump up and follow me to the bedroom and then dig around in circles in his beds until he got comfortable and wait for Jeff to give him his nightly rub down. He followed me everywhere I went including to the bathroom room in the mornings when he would dig up the bath mats and find a spot to lay.
My trips to the mailbox will never be the same; he was my buddy without the leash that would run around the front yard and stretch out so his belly covered the warm grass while I checked the mail. These were our special moments together. And his toys, boy did he love his toys. In recent years Marley destroyed most of them or hid them under the bed, but the excitement was there each and every time I would get a toy out and throw it for him. He loved to run from us and show off his toy just until you got close and then he would take off again. If there were enough toys out he would grab every single one and pile them up around himself.
You don't realize just how many little things change when you lose a beloved pet. There are no more long drawn out feedings and frustration when Jack and Marley would try to steal his food, but I would give anything to have those days back. As his caretaker it is so difficult to let go of the routine of giving medications, saving him a bite of my oatmeal, grabbing his leash, petting him one more time after he pawed at our hands for more, wiping up water from his beard, and patting the couch for him to jump into my lap. Greetings at the door have changed dramatically without the tip tap of his little feet running around in circles and then patiently waiting his turn to be petted. I find myself constantly checking under the dining room table or in the corner of our bedroom on one of his three beds (yes, three beds because he had to be comfortable of course) for his sweet face to return. I pray that he is running beside his sisters, Maddie and Dixie, and sitting on my Dad's lap giving him slow, slow licks. They all have a huge piece of my heart which is aching and broken. The only peace I can find is knowing that they are together again.
Tank
October 29, 2006- August 9, 2018
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| So handsome |
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| My boy |
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| Sweet boys |
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| One of his favorite spots |
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| January 2007 after bringing home the puppies! |
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| 11 weeks old |
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| Add caption |
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First hair cut
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