A Tribute to a Very Good Boy

Yesterday was one of the harder days of my life, as I said goodbye to my dog Bentley. Affectionately referred to as the Executive Vice President of Awards Radar, he was my first real pet. I miss him terribly already, and while I know it was his time, as age had caught up to him, ever since yesterday afternoon my apartment has felt emptier than it has in a very long time. Even as I sit here writing this, it’s hard to look over and not see him on the couch or in his bed, snoring away. 90% of the articles you’ve read from me here on the site have come with him as my over the shoulder editor of sorts. So, just know this is being written through a steady stream of tears.

Almost fourteen years ago, I took a tiny puppy home in a cardboard box from an animal shelter out on Long Island. Adopting him wasn’t the plan. In fact, a foster was the most that was even on the table. He was the first puppy on display when my ex-girlfriend and I walked into North Shore Animal League, almost like the new floor model. I was his in an instant. Sure, we looked at a few other puppies there, but there was something about this first one, as if he was all but dropped right into my lap. So, he came home with us. Bentley, he was christened, as he was a rescue from a kill shelter in Tennessee. A southern gentleman, he was. In short order, he was Ben or Benny, as well as about a dozen or names, up to and including Monk, Monkey, Muttley, and plenty more. About six months later, that relationship ended, and a month or two after that, he came home with me, permanently joining my family.

Since then, he dominated my life. The routine of feeding and walking him became as singular a constant as I had. No matter the weather, the dog needed to be walked. Regardless of how I felt that day, the dog had to be walked. Any kid who wants a puppy always promises to do it all, not realizing what it actually entails. As an adult, I was the same way, just with even more on my plate. Still, with a helping hand from my parents, especially my mother while she was alive, and my sister, he never missed a single walk or meal. He loved them all, and they loved him back, especially my mother, who claimed him as her youngest child, and my grandfather, who clearly delighted in any visit he got from the big black dog who loved to sit on his bed, in front of the television, blocking his view.

My dog lived for people food, as we called it to him. As much as I don’t like cheese, he loved it, so there was always a steady stream from my plate. Going outside was utilitarian for him, and he rarely felt like playing in a dog park, but at home? His pile of toys is sky high, and he loved to chase a ball around the apartment, sometimes even pushing the ball back to you when you rolled it to him, provided he felt like it, of course. He could be a jerk, but he was my jerk, and the most lovable jerk you could ever hope to meet.

Bentley, you were an absolutely neurotic dog, but you were also the most loyal friend I’ll ever have. You were one of a kind, drove me crazy, and loved me unconditionally. I hope I made the right decision and kept you from suffering. I hope if anything comes next for animals, it’s everything you deserve and more. If there isn’t anything, I hope I spoiled you enough and you knew how loved you were. In short, I bestow the highest canine honor upon you: you were a very good boy. I miss you already.

Non pet owners don’t quite understand this, but a pet is a member of the family. My dog was a part of my family. Hell, he was the thing my family talked about more than anything else. When we lost my mother, he grieved her as much as we did, looking as lost as we were. But he was also there for us, even in what was a dark time that he didn’t understand. Even this week, when it became clear that he was in decline, his tail still wagged when he saw you. Other aspects of him and the dog I knew so well were fading, but the bond was there, just as strong.

I’m reminded of this quote from the memoir Marley & Me, which in turn was utilized well in the film adaptation:

A dog has no use for fancy cars, big homes, or designer clothes. A waterlogged stick will do just fine. A dog doesn’t care if you’re rich or poor, clever or dull, smart or dumb. Give him your heart and he’ll give you his. How many people can you say that about? How many people can make you feel rare and pure and special? How many people can make you feel extraordinary?

I’m going to miss him. I already miss him. I hope I made him happy. I know he made me happy. Almost fourteen years ago, he offered me his heart. Mine has been his ever since. Sweet dreams, pal. You earned it…

Rest in Peace. I miss you already, my good boy