Bennigan

This post has taken me almost 8 months to get the nerve to write.  I still don't want to do it, but I owe it to our family.

Benni was our first wedding anniversary present to each other.  We went to a boxer breeder and picked him out of the litter, and not too patiently waited until he was 8 weeks old.  Benni was as lively as any puppy and somehow climbed on top of his crate and broke his leg when he was only 9 weeks old.  Right out of the shoot, he cost us thousands of dollars in surgery and was quite the lesson for a young married couple.  We loved him so much though, just as our little baby.  When he was a year old we thought he was lonely given that we both worked full time so we got another boxer named Dook (or Duke if you so prefer).  Benni and Dook lasted about 2 years until their inability to get along was too much and we decided to find another home for Dook.  This nearly killed me because I loved them both, but there was a sense of Benni being our first baby and having an obligation to him.  Sure enough, as soon as Dook (who has a fantastic rest-of-his-life story for another day) was safe in another home, the Benni we'd come to know and love came back.

Benni was many things, most of which we enjoyed...the excessive drool, not so much.  Physically, Benni had gigantic ears he never really grew in to.  We never cropped them for several reasons, but particularly so he could use them for his expressions which he often did.  He had scars on his leg from where he broke it and the resulting surgery, and he walked and ran with a "kickstand" limp of this back leg.  He was always lean, if not skinny no matter what we fed him...bacon grease, canned food, specialty froo froo food.  Emotionally, Benni was exceptionally skittish which was hilarious coming from a 75lb boxer.  He was definitely silly, playful and loved to take off on the hardwood floors without traction.  Several times he would randomly come flying through the house, slide and hit a wall accidentally, or fly on the carpet hallway and jump on a bed like he knew he wasn't supposed to.  We'd try to fuss at him to get down or slow down, but it was half-hearted as we giggled at his goofiness.

Benni was 3 when Olivia was born.  It was like he instantly knew his place had changed, but he fully accepted it.  He loved Olivia, protected her when I'd take them both on a stroller walk, was gentle with her and fretted when she cried.  He defended our house, barking at any stranger, and once charged a suspicious handyman in the backyard.  Benni knew us as well.  I remember my darkest days of PPD when he laid with me for hours and just let me rub his soft ears.  Ok, I'm definitely crying now.  When Olivia was older, he would sit and let her read books to him, or wait patiently beside her chair for tidbits that might hit the floor.  I have no doubt in my mind that Benni loved Olivia.  She loved him right back, although showed it by chasing him around and taking full advantage of his skittishness. I know that we weren't able to treat him like a king with daily walks, dog park trips, game playing or cuddling all the time.  But he had a good life, and knew what home was.

The hardest part of this story is the end, and I'm not going to expand on it too much.  I don't have a problem talking about it to anyone who is interested, but it's just not how I choose to remember Benni.

In the weeks before and after Harris was born, Benni had been acting a little strange.  Little things like unusual nervousness, lack of appetite, etc.  We talked about it, took him to the vet, but everything seemed to check out.  When Harris was 5 weeks old, Benni attacked Olivia unprompted.  I'd like to say we had an easy decision to make, but it was anything but.  Benni was our baby too, and what happened shook me to my core, throwing off my equilibrium of what was right versus what I wanted to believe.  To say I agonized is an understatement.  We still aren't sure if it was a fluke, if his cancer had come back to his brain (he had a tumor removed in 2011), or if it was a blatant act of aggression.  Ultimately, we knew we could no longer trust Benni with our family, or anyone else's.

There are many things I am thankful for in this situation but one of the major ones is that Olivia harbors no animosity towards Benni.  In her mind he had a moment of "bad manners" and she misses him terribly.  We all do.  Neil and I have said time and time again that no matter how the ending of his story went, Benni was a good dog.  He was a loyal, loving, silly, wild, cuddly, slobbery, wiggly, and goofy part of our family for 8 years.  We have his ashes in our living room and I'm not sure if we'll ever do anything with them.  It kind of feels right for him to be here.  A constant in the heart of our chaotic home; just like he always was.