Bigfoot

My Belgian Shepherd, Bigfoot, was put to sleep yesterday (June 13, 2000) because his back legs would not allow him to get up, he had become incontinent and, although we tried to prevent it, he was developing pressure sores. He looked sad. He would bark and bark because he was frustrated that he couldn't move. His "voice" became hoarse from barking so much. But he still loved to eat, and drink.

We had been watching Bigfoot's legs become more and more weak over the past year or so. But even as I gave him his medicine every day, I was comforted by the fact that he still seemed to enjoy his life. He loved his yard, he loved to nap in the sun on the grass, he loved to roll around on his back and groan as the grass scratched his back. He enjoyed it when we were in the backyard with him. He'd lie on the grass and watch as the kids played near him, and occasionally come up to us and lick our hands, then find another place to rest and watch us.

Occasionally, he would "shake hands" with us by placing his left paw heavily on our arms. Even though he wasn't an "indoor" dog, he would always try to sneak in, then sneak out as we would say, "Footie, outside!" He loved bones. He would bark at the sliding glass door just to get some more bones. And at night he would lie against that door, always close to his family. In his younger years, he enjoyed running around the yard, in the exact same pattern every time. He usually would do several laps, then stop, panting with that big pink tongue. It was hard to watch him lose his mobility, slowly but surely.

We figured Bigfoot was about eleven or twelve when he died yesterday. We got him when he was approximately two from one of my husband's real estate clients that would no longer have the space to keep a big dog. My husband brought him home, and it was my husband that watched him go. Bigfoot was given his name by his previous owner. Even though he was the runt of his litter, he had gigantic paws, and thus the name. We loved his name. He grew into those paws, and my husband often said he looked like a "mean, junkyard dog." But he was far from it. He was big and friendly and gentle. He was smart and obedient and all-knowing, almost human. He always had the most beautiful big brown eyes and a funny, floppy right ear. He was such a great dog!

Since he has been gone, we have grieved a lot. I have cried a lot. We continue to talk about him as a family, remembering all the things he used to do. I keep looking in the backyard, thinking I see him. I am afraid for the time to go by so fast, because I don't want to move away from the day that I last saw him, talked to him and pet his head and ears. As I felt his warm, furry ears for the last time, I tried very hard to remember just what they felt like, because I didn't want to forget. I still can't believe he is gone.

I hope that we did the right thing by him. I miss him immensely, as does my family. I am wondering how long the pain will last, and at the same time, I never want that pain to go too far away, because that will mean I am moving on. I don't want to move on yet. It helps to share all these feelings--I had no idea that they would be so powerful.

This memorial and star are for you, Bigfoot Baker. We know you are at peace now. We still feel your presence, only now it is in our hearts. We love you so much.

Christine, James, Christian and Kelly Baker