Gustopher P Jones (Pimpmaster G)
My heart had shattered into a million pieces.
Osteo has taken so many of our precious hounds from all of us and it has taken one more. With this theft it has robbed me of my heart, shattering it during the taking, leaving me with the many pieces to put back where they belong.
How did I say goodbye to my big man. How could I ever say goodbye to this big white cow upholstered man hound who had so dominated my life with his gentle presence for so long? I didn’t know how…..
He came to us on the wings of loss and sadness, hand-picked, or should I say paw picked, by my heart hound Ryce. The loss of Ryces two companion hounds, Bo and Jim, within four weeks had devastated Ryce. He needed another hound with him so we let him pick his own new couch mate immediately. He chose the biggest hound in the kennel, a big beautiful marathon racer who was known by everyone at the track. Gustopher P and Ryce were joined at the hip from the beginning. They always seemed to have each other’s back from the moment they met. He came home with us that very day and settled into his new home like he had always been here and quietly took over the duties of “man of the house”, sharing the responsibility with Ryce.
He became the protector of his area of operation and guardian of his girlie hounds. He welcomed the new hounds into the house without even a twitch of the tail and made room for the newcomer with the poise and grace of a diplomat. He protected his home and territory from intruders with his intensely fierce and powerful growling bark. In the dead of night, he hunted for interlopers in his “hood” and took them to task, verbally and physically, dispatching them from his presence without a second look back. We knew that we were completely safe from the neighborhood cats, dogs, door to door people, bugs, leaves, miscreants and terrorists that lurked nearby. He protected us all, his women, who were not to be molested in any way, shape or form on his watch.
He was completely at ease with his feminine side, playfully teasing the girlie hounds and tolerating their antics in the backyard. He allowed them first choice of cookies and treats and let them be their pushy little selves in any group activity, with his big goofy smile and an overly happy tail. He loved them all in his quiet protective way.
But most of all, he loved me. His smile and laugh were a gift to me every time I walked into the house. He had a silly toothy grin that never failed to make me laugh out loud. He loved to put his head in my lap, nose buried, and sitting quietly like that for the longest time. He loved to be scratched, anywhere, any time and any way that he could get it. He would stare at me with his big beautiful eyes and my heart would melt into a warm puddle of love. He had always asked for so little and had generously and freely given so much in return.
So how did I say goodbye to my good man? My telling you all of him and his ways showed me how. One day at a time, one piece of my heart put back at a time. Even after all this time, I have given myself permission to think and to breath and to remember and to talk about him with those who loved him too, with those who understand. I have given myself permission to have my good days about it and my bad days and to cry whenever I feel like it. I have given myself permission to be human and wait for the sadness of loss to change slowly into the fondness of memory that makes my heart laugh with all the love he gave me. It will happen as it is supposed to. I have said my goodbyes to his physical self. I will never totally say goodbye to Gus and his life with me because he will always be here in my heart where he belongs. He is forever intricately woven into the fabric of my heart, my memories and my life with my hounds.
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