Loyal Through The End
Most of us understand the struggles of financial illiteracy, especially at a young age. Some spend money on lavish things or experiences, but for me, it was different. When I was just twenty-one years old, I was earning more than I should have at that time. Being as juvenile as I was, I had no business handling the cash I was bringing in, but that tax season was the greatest financial risk I had ever taken. What would transpire over the duration of the following twelve years would be nothing short of the greatest times of my life.
In 2014, a friend had planted the idea of wanting a dog. The more I thought about it, the more I, too, desired a daily companion. I began looking at breeds and researching all sorts of these little mutts. I had always appreciated the bulldog's demeanor, even though they were unhealthy balls of muscle with inadequate bone structure and sounded like a car engine turning over while they slept; I could not escape their precious faces. In lieu of receiving my tax returns, I jumped on the most unorthodox site (Craigslist) to search for a bulldog. That is when I came across a tiny blue brindled, blue-eyed pup. I knew he was exactly the dog I wanted. I met him that day, and the following day, I brought him home.
I told no one; I just showed up with a puppy. An Olde English Bulldogge I would name Bentley. He was immediately accepted by the family pack. Bentley was soon running around, nipping on everyone’s ankles, and playing as much as any puppy would. He never destroyed a thing and rarely had an accident inside. He always wandered around my feet, following me everywhere, falling asleep underneath me, even as I did the dishes. In just 48 hours, he became my best friend. When I went to bed, he refused to be anywhere else other than curled up next to me or at the top of my pillow just above my head (he would grow out of this as he got bigger).
Bentley was an extraordinary dog. We have seen a large part of the world within the United States, together, going as far as Northwestern Utah and most of the East Coast. We hiked through the mountains, the plains, the beaches, the bogs, and even deserts together. Anytime I left the house, I would ask if he wanted to go with me, and he would perk up. Bentley enjoyed being in the car because he knew we were going somewhere that he loved. Any type of vehicle he could sit in, he would. If the door was open, he was jumping through it. He especially loved going out on boats. Bentley even found himself floating in an innertube hooked to the back of a boat once. As much as I love being outdoors, he appreciated it way more. He even attended parties and gatherings. When I say this dog is loved by many, it does not do him justice.
Bentley was fearless, confident, courageous, alert, loving, extremely strong, and loyal to a fault: a protector without being trained to protect, and those whom he knew I cared about, he extended this behavior to them. He made sure there were no deer, gophers, foxes, or even coyotes in the vicinity; he ran down a few people, but story for another day. When he came camping, my friends and I would cut down wood for the fire, and Bentley would take each branch and carry it to the fire pit. His intuition was remarkable in creating a nest-like structure that was essentially a woodpile. Biting onto branches, carrying or dragging them over, dropping them, and coming back for more. His endurance for work and play was always something to admire. His softest side was when he would stretch his neck out as far as he could while looking up at you with his big beaty eyes, and plop his head on your shoulder while sitting upright, and subsequently fall asleep in that position. When he was excited to see you, his four-inch nub would be wagging as vigorously as it could while belting out this sweet, warm yawn that made anyone keel over if they were lucky enough to hear it. In the mornings when he woke up, he would wait until I moved to get out of bed, but once Bentley had all four paws on the floor, he would bounce around excited to start his day. His loyalty was remarkable.
Over these twelve years, Bentley helped me learn a lot about myself, not just responsibility, but patience, and how to love unconditionally. Over time, I realized that the moment I decided to get him, I was in dire need of companionship I could not find on my own. I was unable to foster the relationships I needed due to my vices and my trauma. Maybe it was a sad excuse to find some semblance of love, but it would be something I would not regret. Ultimately, he taught me grace and how to love myself. I grapple with the realization that he is the catalyst for all the growth I have seen since March of 2014.
To this day, I have wondered what was going through his mind as he sat in a trance on a ledge, watching the sun set into the Grand Canyon. (The exact picture of this moment is available on the website’s home page and at the bottom of this story.) The energy of that area alone is enough to move a human to tears, so I could not imagine the processing of it for any animal. Today, I ponder this thought, and as I dissect it, more things come to light. Some people turn to theism to explain life and the energy that surrounds us; for me, it is more rooted in romanticism. I believe the sublime power of nature supersedes anything that can be explained by a philosophical razor. Sometimes, understanding life is as simple as merely existing and feeling the air pulsating through and around your skin. Nothing needs a complex explanation, as the axiom is always in front of us.
If you are an avid reader here, you know about this cross-country trip I took in 2020, and Bentley was with me. The purpose of this trip was to allow me to grieve and see the very things that made my grandfather happy; to relive his stories and parts of his life in my own variant. That year, my grandfather passed away on January 29, six years ago to this very day. This morning, I lost my best friend. Not long before Bentley took his last breath, I was just waking up and arbitrarily thinking of my grandfather, unbeknownst to me, today was the anniversary of his death. Once I made my way to the vet to say my last goodbyes, I was flooded with memories Bentley and I had shared. I quickly thought back to this morning, the moment I thought about my grandfather just before Bentley had passed. At that time, I realized the cloth I had used to carry Bentley in was my grandfather’s. I then looked at the date on my phone and realized the significance of today. I did not believe myself, so I had to double-check my grandfather’s obituary to confirm my suspicion. It was at this moment that I felt complete peace.
The hardest part of saying goodbye is letting go. The night before my grandfather’s funeral, a snowstorm consumed the town. I recalled walking his casket through the snow to his gravesite and the gut-wrenching feeling of removing my hand from the side rails. Today was no different, as we just had a snowstorm that we are still recovering from, and having to maneuver in the same way to say goodbye. However you may need to explain this to yourself through faith or another way to ease your mind; one thing is for sure: the energies around us exist, and nothing truly perishes. We live seconds at a time that may result in no explanation in that moment, but if you believe it to have a purpose, whatever forces that exist in this world will guide you to its true meaning.
I may not have been worthy of such a friend, but I am thankful to have experienced a friendship I may never share again. Rest easy, you gentle beast.
