A Little Bit of Heart & Soul: Remembering Merlin, My Heart Dog

Originally posted on September 23, 2012.

I have thought about how I should honor his life endlessly as this emotional anniversary approaches and I have decided that remembering some of my fondest moments with Merlin was the most appropriate way. I want to celebrate his life. He was a remarkable dog, He touched so many lives. I hope that I can honor him properly. So I chose to speak directly to him.

To Merlin from mom:

I was attracted to you the second I saw you, so small at about three months of age, but so sassy in that cage at the shelter. It was my first day walking dogs who weren’t on the adoption floor and I had just lost my Layla only a week prior to seeing you. You looked at me with such sly eyes, so knowing, so full of intelligence and humor. It only took one look and I knew you were to be mine. You knew it too. I was told that you had “sexy” eyes by another shelter volunteer, such an odd compliment for a dog but clearly true as well; something more than in most canine eyes at such a young age. Such potential.

Merlin, on a walk, grinning.

When we brought Kera home after you “chose” her just a month later, you were thrilled that I got you such a wonderful “toy” until you realized you had to share me! You made Kera “pay” for a couple of days, then you made her your partner in crime, deftly giving me a crash course in multiple dog ownership/training.

Having only had “easy” dogs up until you, you challenged my mind at every opportunity. You performed magic feats on doorknobs and crates, opening both without difficulty and with humor. You fully earned your magical moniker. You forced me to increase my training and behavior knowledge and I will always respect you for that.

You had both drive and persistence which made training you a challenge. You refused to be pushed around in the name of training and rightly fought back to any man-handling attempts. Your delight was evident when I learned a better way to teach you. We made strides faster than the speed of light and your responses made me beam with pride.

You became a dog trainer’s dream dog, able to go anywhere and be trusted with anyone. You helped shy and scared dogs learn to be brave. You showed reactive dogs that you were not a threat and that playing with another dog could be fun. You helped some dogs get certified to be canine good citizens; others, you showed your large repertoire of cues so they could watch and learn.

You were kind to everyone as long as they were kind to your family. You approached every situation as friendly until finding out otherwise. You LOVED puppies and helped raise Siri and her siblings until we sent all but Siri off to their forever homes. The memory of you laying on the floor letting puppies tug on you from various angles brings a huge smile to my face. You cared for the multitudes of foster puppies who spent time under our roof like they were your own. You grinned happily as they took new steps. And you sent them on their way to their forever homes with a smile.

You were welcoming to the many foster dogs that passed through our lives, on their way to their forever home. You helped them to feel comfortable and loved and happy. When corrections were needed, you issued them appropriately, showing kindness and restraint. Even as you eventually grew weary of one too many fosters, you handled it with dignity and grace and understood that we had a purpose higher than we may have preferred at times. You accepted our role and loved me despite minor inconveniences to your life. You understood that our little family was always number one and comforted by that fact.

You helped keep us safe in an urban neighborhood, sometimes fraught with strangeness. You always knew when to step in and when to let me handle things, perfectly assessing every situation. I didn’t teach you this, you were born with it.
You lived it. I respected your perfect instincts and understanding more than I can express.

You viewed life as an adventure, every new situation as something to look forward to. You trusted me to have your back and keep you safe.
Your sense of humor brought smiles to my day. You made every day fun and laughter. You reveled in the outdoors and made sure that every day had relaxation in it. Without your nudging, I would not have had as much play as I should have. You loved to go places, riding in the Xterra like a champ, “elbow” resting on the window ledge like a human male, grinning out the window with pleasure.

It was on one of our many outings that the first sign of trouble reared it’s ugly head. The day that we took our first trip to the vet, almost directly from am outing. On the way to find out what caused you such distress, I could not shake the feeling that my life had changed dramatically that day. I hoped I was being melodramatic but sadly, I was right. I would give anything to change what happened but I am grateful for the chance to have the extra time with you that no doctor said I would have. You handled all your vet visits with grace and dignity and even humor, making you a favorite at the specialists. They admired your good temperament and disposition, they loved your humor. They mourned with us when you were lost to us. Your loss created a void in the lives of many, the cards and condolences were plentiful, your memory a flame that will go on.

You took such good care of all of us, Kera, Siri, Trent and I, me being at the top of the list. I was your number one priority and truth be told, you were mine. I loved you best, feeling at one with your soul. You were more partner than the others. That always feels odd to say, fearing that some may not understand but I know that many will know what that means. It is a oneness with another creature that can only be described in that way, fully mutually understanding another without guessing, an ability to share thoughts and communicate without words. While that ability exists to an extent with my other beloved dogs, it has never reached such an understanding as with you. There is a piece missing now that can never be replaced. That’s okay now, as much as it can be, because I know that someday I will see you again. With that purpose in mind, wanting to live up to your ideal of me, making you proud, I move forward for you. I miss you with every ounce of my soul and I will celebrate your life as it deserves to be celebrated.

I have written and re-written the above in my mind a dozen times already. I wanted perfection for Merlin’s memorial but perfection is always out of reach; this is real life and there is no perfection. So I will “settle” for simply from the heart. Now an update on our emotional progress…

It’s hard to believe that it’s been almost a year since I had say goodbye (for now) to my precious Merlin. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of him multiple times a day. I can go from okay to tears in an instant with the right trigger. But it IS easier now to try to move forward. It was and still is a struggle randomly and I would be lying if I said it has been easy. I suppress a lot of trigger reactions. I basically forced myself to move forward, for the sake of Kera (who joined Merlin on June 1st), Siri and Trent. After we lost Kera, we would have continued into an even deeper downward spiral, so deep was the loss in our lives, if things continued as is.

Those of you who follow this blog know that what changed the direction for the better was Kenzo. Daily, I am grateful for the gift of his addition to our lives. His presence forced us back into the game of life. No matter how much complaining I may do about never subjecting myself to puppyhood again, the laughter that he brings us is worth his eventual weight in gold. I will forever be in debt to my dear friend who made Kenzo’s life with us possible.

In many ways, Kenzo reminds me of Merlin. I like to think that this was by design, Merlin’s that is. Kenzo lies down to drink water a good bit of the time. Merlin did that for his entire life, preferring the path of least resistance in many areas. Merlin also liked to play in water all of his life, starting with the water bowl as a puppy, as Kenzo has and continuing to splashing in any available stream or other accessible body of water. The only area that they differ with regards to water is Kenzo’s dislike of rain. Merlin loved all things wet, rain included. Kenzo, not so much! Merlin’s fur was forever dancing about the floors in fuzzy balls. Kenzo has accepted the responsibility of continuing that tradition down to the exact color of the fur balls. Kenzo is vocal when cuddled as Merlin was.

But make no mistake, they are two different dogs. I know this. I accept this. I would not have accepted a breed that reminded me of Merlin because I am not ready for that yet. I don’t know if I ever will be. I hope so as I love Dobermans with fierceness but I don’t want to make any comparisons so I wait. I miss my pokey nosed baby boy too much to risk more traumas. In the meantime, every black and tan (orange) butterfly that I see seems to be Merlin checking in with me. When my loss was brand new, I saw Merlin or thought I did, out of the corner of my eye, in various places he used to be. I do still see that but not often enough. I need the continued connection but I don’t think Merlin wants to me to dwell too much so I march forward and know that we will meet again. Until then, I love you more than words can say, my “little boy dog”.