Here's what I've learned since the death of Tucker.

EVERYONE feels bad when a pet has to be put down. It doesn't matter what race you are. It doesn't matter what, and if, you practice a religion. It doesn't matter who you are sexually attracted to. And it seriously doesn't matter who you voted for.

Grief is an equal opportunity paralyzing force.

Pets offer comfort when nothing else will. They slobber their love on us when we leave from one room to go to the bathroom and come back again. Their tails are an indication of their joy and some of them can take you down with their strength. They are the constant picker upper of the crumbs of food left here and there. They can leap with excitement when they have to go out. They bare witness to our secret hopes and dreams. They don't judge. They love a good treat.

So.

The next time you feel yourself getting all wound up about some political injustice - and honestly, depending on the particular day, that could be more than a few times - go look at pictures of puppies. (Or kittens if they're your thing.)

You will say, "Awwwwwww" at least once.

I try to remember we all basically want the exact same thing: social kindness with fiscal responsibility. 

​xo

Yesterday, throughout the day, each member of this family cried. At times we even sobbed. Other times our eyes were just wet.

I edited the blog many times. I added more pictures. I added a video. I added a few more memories. I cleaned up the typos and the grammar. Finally by the end of the night I could read it through and not be weepy.

This morning I patted the bed beside me to see if Tucker had jumped up when Marco went downstairs as was often his routine. He wasn't in bed with me.

I came downstairs and saw Marco sitting on our stoop. The poor man is gutted. He woke up prepared to take his boy for a walk.

Bella started cleaning up and putting away remnants of Tucker's life as soon as we got home Saturday.

We threw away the a couple of the blankets that had Tucker embedded in them. We threw away the L.L. Bean Bed that was really so gross it should have been tossed years ago. We threw away the now squeaker-less toys he loved so.

It's not that we're "getting rid" of Tucker. It's impossible to get rid of a dog who is as much a part of your fiber as your DNA.

We are mourning for Tucker like we've never mourned anything else.

A friend sent me this excellent article about mourning the loss of a dog yesterday and it really resonated with us.

At one point yesterday Marco said, "Poor Tucker."

I quickly responded with, "It is not poor Tucker. He had a great life. His eyes were sparkly, his tail was wagging, he was smiling, he was eating treats and getting all of our attention. We gave him, a very sick dog, peace and SO. MUCH. LOVE. before his body fully broke down. Poor US is more like it."

Tucker would sleep on, under and next to that pillow. He would often kick it out his way. The red collar is one of his first. The black one is his last. The green thing is a squeaker. When he was a jerk in the backyard, all we had to do was blow it and he would come running to the back door, certain he was getting a new toy and a treat.

I went back to the salon Saturday afternoon a couple of hours after we bid our sweet boy farewell. When I got there they had gotten us a card along with the a rock for each of us that says, "pets leave paw prints on your heart forever." The back side of it is a paw.

As a family we would like to thank you all for your words of support. For your compassion. For sharing your own stories of loss.

Tucker was our first family dog. And were't we all so lucky.

​xo

https://youtu.be/LjoNUNXZTrU
Little Boys Grow Up and Dogs Get Old - Luke Bryan

Thursday, March 30, 2006.
The poster above was all this worn down mama needed to see late that night at DaRo's on a milk run.

Bella had been asking for a dog for at least four years. She's a persistent little angel and when I saw that poster (and apparently took it) I knew I was a goner.

Friday, March 31, 2006.
I had plans with my friend Claire in the morning. I asked her if she would mind making a pit stop to see something. Claire, always up for an adventure said, "Sure!" So, into Bark Avenue we walked and we met the puppies. Tucker peed on Claire. Puppy pee! Now I really knew I was a goner.

Later that night I shared my secret plan with Marco. When he picked his jaw up off the floor he said, "Let's go meet the puppies."

Sunday, April 2, 2006.
​The family piled into the van and unbeknownst to the children we started out on a drive perhaps a half mile from our house. When we got to Bark Avenue there was shock, surprise and sheer joy.

WE WERE GETTING A PUPPY!!
​(finally!)

There was a lot of back and forth. Peter and I were in love with a different dog. Marco and Bella were in love with "Chewdoga" as we were calling him. He went around the place chewing the plastic Easter eggs on display.

We debated taking both. However, Sandy, who had rescued their mama and who had raised them thus far, felt with our complete lack of experience with dogs perhaps we should stick to one.

Bella and Marco's choice became the family choice. The other puppy? He went on to live at my friend Leigh's house.

And so it was on Wednesday, April 5, 2006 we became a dog family.

In an email to friends and family we introduced Tucker, the Wonder Pup. Facebook didn't exist so we couldn't share his adorableness all over creation, but we could pelt you with an email.

​The single best reaction came from my friend Kathy. She wrote back something like, "If there were a million people adopting a puppy, I would have had you at one million and one - as in, never."

I wasn't your usual animal person. I love them from afar. I just didn't want one in the house. I had dogs and cats as a kid. Marco had two cats when I met him. A dog was work and I already had that with two kids.

But then there was that night I needed milk...

We adopted him the week of Spring Break so the kids were home to learn how to take care of him. Our friend Pat hooked us up with the book The Art of Raising a Puppy by the Monks of New Skeet. We signed up for puppy classes at Pet Smart because we were pet dumb.

A puppy is way more work than cuteness.

But my god, he was cute.

He grew rapidly and ended up never weighing more than 45 pounds, which was surprising based on his paw size as a puppy. His litter mate, Dojo, Leigh's dog, is easily 8 inches taller and 20 pounds heavier!

Making the bed was ALWAYS an adventure. He would inevitably jump up on it and refuse to leave. He was precious that way.

Tucker adored the snow. He would run around like a maniac in wild loops and circles. When you shoveled he really loved it when you threw it in his face. (He was a weird like that!)

He was equally enamored of the sun. Aren't all dogs? They do love their sun spots.

He was attached to us all differently. Peter and Marco could be rough and tumble with him. Bella and I were much more gentle. Unless a toy was involved. He could tear your rotator cuff with his pulling prowess.

He had MANY names.
Tucker ~ Fucker (come on, it was so easy) ~ Tucker the Wonder Pup ~ Tucker Boy ~ Tuckee ~ TwoGar ~ GarMan ~ My Sweet Little Boy ~ My Handsome Boy ~ My Favorite Furry Boy ~ TuckTuck ~
     Tucker, Tucker Bo Bucker
     My Sweet Mother Fucker

He could hear a ziplock bag open from any room even when fully conked out asleep. That's a special dog power.

When he joined me in the kitchen (I would walk in and he was right there with me) he would inevitably become a nudge. To the tune of "Go Away Little Girl" I would sing, "Go Away Little Dog," and he would leave! He really could be so smart!

In the past year we had seen a big weight loss in our boy. We brought him to the vet. He had blood work. We changed foods. We changed treats. He gained weight and then he would lose it.

The past two weeks we saw a rapid weight loss and his behavior was really odd. Never a fan of thunder, lightening, fireworks, or the vacuum, the weather these past few weeks made him truly antsy.

He was jumping onto the bed directly onto my head in the middle of the night. What?! He would refuse to get off the bed.

Friday he was absolutely not his normal self. He wouldn't eat at all. He was smacking his lips and jaw together. He was drinking water. He wouldn't even eat a treat.

Bella came home for the weekend and he was happy to see her, but he wasn't excited. He was always excited to see his girl.

At about 8:45 on Friday night Tucker started to hyperventilate. Then he went very still. I laid my hands on him and knew in my gut and my heart something was very wrong.

I broke my own rule and texted a friend who is a vet. Naturally this was after looking up his symptoms. She suggested we get him to an emergency vet to be checked out.

We all piled into Marco's truck and did just that.

We went to a place with a marvelous office staff. The vet and the vet tech didn't have the personalities and empathy we have come to expect after using North Westchester Veterinary Office for 12+ years. After a cursory exam and the suggestion of x-rays and a full blood work up, we brought our boy home.

​I had asked if they thought he would die in the next 12 hours or so and they thought not.

Yesterday morning Marco and I got up. I headed to the salon. Marco and his boy headed to see Dr. Maus.

Here's what you need to know about Dr. Maus. Those puppies way up at the begging of this post? Well, he took care of them for their first six weeks of life free of charge. How could I not stay with him?

He understood Tucker. Like when he had to be put on Prozac after getting neutered and have an overnight stay in the hospital, because as he put it, "Tucker man, you are insane!"

Or the time I threw the Frisbee with my classic bad aim and the poor dog hit the wheel barrow and got a giant gash. He was bleeding. I was crying and he was crying and they saw him even before opening hours.

They knew he hated other dogs so I would call from the car to see if the cost was clear.

And so, when he examined our favorite fur ball yesterday morning and found a large mass that went from side to side of his now tiny self, he knew. And poor Marco, who had to hear this news alone, called me. And I cried. But I knew. And then Marco woke up the kids. And he had to tell them. And they all cried.

Even though the vets office was absolutely fully booked yesterday, they made the time to help us say good bye to our Tucker Boy.

I left the salon and met the family at home. We went back to the vet. And we loved on our boy as much as we could. Peter wanted to give him the full jar of peanut butter. I said perhaps not.

Tucker had a finger full of peanut butter, three treats, and all the love a dog could ever have as he crossed over the rainbow bridge. At 12:48pm his heart beat it's last beat and frankly, ours shattered into a million little pieces in the process. 

It was beautiful and sad and peaceful. I would wish for every death to be so serene.

We promised ourselves we would give him a good life and never let him suffer.

And that, my dear friends, we succeeded at doing.

Tucker Marco Pinque
(Bella gave him a middle name, LOL)
February 14, 2006 - October 6, 2018

We will miss him like crazy.

​xo

We're all just walking each other home.
                                       ~ Ram Das