It was almost eight years ago when I was awakened one morning at my house on Upper Bear Lake by the yapping of puppies.
The only problem was I didn’t own a dog.
I walked outside to find eight young puppies gleefully barreling out from under the safe confines of my front deck.
As I learned was often the case, someone had callously dumped the pups and left them homeless, alone and to fend for themselves.
I had plans to get a female chocolate Labrador retriever puppy. My previous dog, Hershey, lived 16 years and was not just a pet. She was my shadow. So it was my natural inclination to get another lab. Those plans changed that June morning, as one of the eight puppies caught my eye.
When my father came over to the house, he immediately pointed out the same small brown puppy as the ‘leader of the pack.’
“If you’re going to keep one of these, he’s the one you want. He’s the leader,” my dad said.
So I followed my father’s advice, kept the Alpha male and named him Brady. I put a photo of the other seven puppies in the Franklin Free Press and found homes for them as well.
Saturday morning, I carried my best friend and companion to be put down after watching him suffer through a week of paralysis.
We don’t know how he injured his back. It could have been trauma-related or a degenerative condition that finally manifested itself. Either way, he lost control of his back legs and was incontinent.
We tried treating him with an injection, carrying desperate hopes it would help him regain movement. Sadly, it didn’t.
I have four other rescue dogs at home, each with their own unique personalities. I love them, but it won’t be the same without Brady.
It’s the unconditional love a dog offers that binds us to them. They innately know how we’re feeling and when to offer that extra love at times we need it most.
Brady was my sidekick. He went everywhere with me, sitting on his favorite spot on the console between the front seats of my car.
He spent thousands of hours at the office with me, always alert to let me know when someone came in. If it was a man, he’d let out a muffled growl, just to remind the visitor who was boss. If it was a female, he’d schmooze his way over to her and wait to be petted.
He was the namesake for our weekly football picks contest in the FFP for six years, although his picks were remarkably similar to those of sports editor Mike Self.
It’s heartbreaking to lose a pet. If you’re an ‘animal person,’ you know how strong the connection is with them. I’ll always remember Brady and can take comfort knowing he had a good life.
Much like his ‘person,’ Brady loved food. He was especially fond of cheese. If I ate cheese, we ate cheese. He’d quickly wolf down his piece and look at me, letting out a whimper to advise me he was ready for more.
I wish he was still with me. I’d let him have a whole block.
Rest in peace buddy. You’re not in pain anymore. And your time on this earth made me a better, happier person. I love you and miss you already.
