Sunday, May 04, 2014

Letters to Marge & Maddie: Chapter 43 (Eulogy for Stolich)

Dear Marge and Maddie,

The label on this latest post could be misleading, because the bulk of it will not be addressed to you guys per se. But this is a letter to Stolich, arguably our family's longest-staying dog and four-legged family member, who left us last April 9, 2014.

And yes, it sucks to have to have two straight posts about deceased dogs. But read on, and let me share with you a few stories and beautiful memories of someone we'll never forget.

Uhm, i must warn you... This might get a little long.

* * * * * * * *

Dear Stolich,

You were always in family photos
Hey, buddy... I'm writing this now in the hopes that with you trotting around somewhere out there across the Rainbow Bridge, you can finally understand the written word. Although everyone who ever met you knows you always seemed to understand what people mean anyways. You always were a smart dog.

So before anything else, here's a confession: you weren't the first "Stolich."

The first "Stolich" was also a poodle, but was owned solely by Malou, a.k.a. your mom, a.k.a. the wifey. Stolich "Sr." as we used to call him eventually, was a rather restless pure black toy poodle. He was fiercely loyal to Malou, acted like a brat to anyone else save her, and seemed eternally uncomfortable whenever his mistress wasn't around. So one day, while we visited Baguio at your grandmother's house, some stupid carpenter left the gate open, and Stolich "Sr." ran out and was run over to his death.

We always took you around
Malou was despondent with grief. Stolich "Sr." then was only three years old, i think. So your grandmother gave me money and told me to find a replacement poodle. And i found you, Balthazar. Yup, your registration papers said "Balthazar." You were born in September of 1998. You were a black poodle, with nice gold frills and a nice golden underbelly. A most handsome chap you were. And in a moment totally lacking in imagination, we named you "Stolich." Not "Stolich Jr." Just "Stolich."

You were promptly introduced to your companion, the beautiful golden apricot colored toy poodle, Soda, who Stolich Sr. stupidly ignored. He was probably gay. Anyways, you did what any guy would do when matched up with a babe. You made babies. You made the babies which filled our then childless household with the joy of a veritable rainbow of happy, playful (and most of all, very intelligent) poodles. Different colors, too! But more on then some other time.

You guys couldn't stop making babies. So two litters and one undersized singleton later, instead of neutering you, which we didn't want to do, we separated you and Soda. Malou and I werent married yet, so all the others remained with her, while you went home with me.
The lady to the left is Sahara showing you
like everyone else does.

A mere couple or so weeks later, i came home to be told that you ran off and got lost.

Guy to the left is Teddy, he's your
grandson from a daughter of yours
we called "Mikey" who was adopted
by my aunt.
Malou was a mixture of sorrow, anger and pure pissed-off-ness when i informed her. While i was absolutely spaced out with sadness, worry and self-blame. We were about to be married in a month at that time, and even months after that, i never heard the end of it from Malou about how you got lost while in my care.

Almost three years later, I received a phone call from my father saying that the driver of one of my uncles who held office in the compound where we lived spotted and picked up a dog that suspiciously looked like the dog i lost. Yes, the dog looked like you.

I went home and found that... Yes, it WAS you! And i happily brought you home to Malou to our tiny apartment in San Juan. Since Malou and I were married, and there was no way to separate you and Soda, we did the unthinkable. We had you neutered. But not before Soda trembled in both fear and excitement upon seeing you again after so long. It was strange. I should have taken a video. Oh well...
Fun under the sun while mommy
washes the cars

The most striking difference in your return was that you remembered the brief time you were under my care, and came back to us as not just our dog, but MY dog. Unlike the others, you stuck to me, followed me, and were only comforted by me. I treasured that newfound bond and proudly held you as mine, along with Bambi, the Labrador Retriever who i raised from a pup til she left for the bridge at twelve years old.

You hanging out with Baby Marge
and Mindy the Chihuahua
You were treated differently from everyone by Malou and me, and deservingly so. Especially by me. Sometimes, i even brought you to work. I never brought any of the others to work with me. You followed me loyally and held your head high like the regal prince you were. Life was good. Eventually, we had Marge the baby. But you to me were always my son. My furry, four-legged son who leapt down from bed in the evenings to stand on hind legs and tap my lap with his paw so i could cradle you while i worked. We had many special, wordless moments, my dear son.

Fast forward into the future... Malou and I were working on having who would become Maddie. You were over thirteen years old and blindness was setting in. Your eyes starting clouding up, and no amount of medication could delay what age was ravaging faster and faster. You started getting slower and more pensive, probably because of the blindness. And early last year, your legs were starting to buckle, but you could still leap up to the bed. You also started wheezing then.

Just hanging
We had started building the house across the street. The one we're living in when you went away. Pretty soon, you were almost totally blind, and had to give that endearingly demanding yelp/bark that you do whenever you needed to be brought to the bathroom for your thing, as well as a drink. Or if you knew i was in the room, and wanted to get picked up and cuddled like a puppy.

But you still had a pretty decent appetite. In fact, you still had a decent appetite (although you had to be fed very patiently) all the way until the day we were told you absolutely refused to eat for the entire day. Malou said you had a little fever, and brought you to the hospital for a check up and had you confined. I was in Baguio then, and wasn't due to return for another day. But my gut was telling me that the time was coming, so i asked to go home and see you. I knew i had to.

Your last New Year's photo
with mom and dad.
We went to see you in the morning, and brought you back home after we heard the doctor's prognosis. On the way home in car, you gave me a loud dose of that yelp/bark while i cradled you. As though you were saying goodbye. I held you tighter and told you "it's okay," that you deserved your rest, and that i love you. That quiet afternoon, in our home, you asked to be stood up for a pee one last time, and quietly gave your last breath.

You were going be 16 years old this September.

Although this entry is about to end, I won't stop thinking about you. And Malou and I will still talk about you until we grow old, and whenever we talk about the wonderful four-legged children we've been blessed with over time.

Send our regards to the others over there at the Rainbow Bridge. To Soda, Marge the Poodle, Joey, JM, Jonie, Lucky, Jennifer, Bambi, Fluke, Jumbo, Tiny, and of course, Happy.
Please tell them we miss them all.

Now go on out there and play again like the carefree little puppy you hadn't been for the past year and a half. The little puppy you will always be in my heart. Thank you for the children and the time you shared with us.

Goodbye, Stolich. Goodbye, my son.



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