It was his spot. The vantage point from where he observed the comings and goings of the house was a worn corner of a throw rug in the living room nestled up against the couch. Sitting there, he watched meals being made in the kitchen and greeted visitors with a wag cut short by his tail hitting the floor in rhythm. It was the only carpeted area in the center of the house large enough to accommodate his oversized Golden Retriever frame. Once spry and agile, in his final days Beau had come to experience life mostly from his spot and had adapted his life to fit his physical limitations. He could no longer get up when prompted to wrestle, so instead he would leave his hindquarters planted and pivot on his front legs much like an army tank rotates its gun in combat. He would bark and play bite during these WWF-like sessions as if he were 12 weeks old, not 12 years old. He was a guard dog to a fault, warning his masters of impending visitors with his raspy bark. But, seeing that there aren't many dangers to protect against in the country, Beau's warnings were mostly met with "Shut up, Beau!" from those tired of listening to incessent barking. I have a feeling his barks will be missed. Beau died today. It was a humane end to a life filled with long walks, swims in Arkabutla lake, racoon chasing and countless rubs down his long, golden coat. His masters, my in-laws, had their vet put him down in a peaceful manner. Beau knew right up until the end how much he was loved. And, what a loyal dog! Beau and I bonded when I lived with my in-laws for a short period right before getting married and moving to St. Louis. Beau felt it was his protective duty to come sit in front of my bedroom door despite the fact that it was upstairs at the other end of the house. Even if I was going upstairs to quickly grab something I needed, Beau was right behind me making the climb. I'm convinced his will to protect others and serve as constant companion overrode any age-related pain he experienced. Beau wanted you to know he was there in case you needed anything. His house was his domain and one in which he was King. From the well-worn spot on his favorite rug, to the dog hair that will linger for months, Beau will be impossible to forget. The feel of his curly blonde hair and hot breath on your leg (which was sometimes stinky too) and having to say "Excuse me, Beau" anytime you tried to sit on the couch are all Beau-isms that we'll remember and cherish forever. May he rest in peace knowing he'll live on in our hearts.
