COLUMN: Reporter’s family forever changed by ‘fur baby’ death

It’s been a month since we unexpectedly had to say goodbye to our four-legged fur baby, and I still don’t think I’ve fully accepted it.

And to be honest, I’m not sure I ever will.

My husband and I brought home Reese, our 11-year-old chocolate lab, about six months after we got married, and he’s been a very important part of our family ever since.

Sure, he was a junk-eating, counter-surfing, food-stealing lunatic, but he was our garbage eater, counter-surfer, food thief and he was as much a member of our family as the rest of us.

I’m pretty sure he knew before we did when we were expecting our first child because all of a sudden he would come and sit on the couch with me and put his head and paw on my belly.

And when his “little sisters” came along, he stepped up and did what all big brothers do: he protected them.

It took us a while to figure out why he would never “let” them when they were playing in the water at the cabin. He always stayed in the deeper part of them and never more than a foot away as they played and splashed.

In the end, we realized that he was simply doing his duty as their big furry brother and making sure the kids were safe.

He never lost his cool with them, whether they were covering his head with Bubble Guppy stickers, using him as a pillow, or trying to ride him like a pony. He sat there and let them do it.

Reese loved being loved by them.

It was the same with other dogs. As a lab, he was often one of the bigger dogs among his friends—whether he was playing at Ruff Haus or with our friend’s dogs—but he always seemed to know what he needed the other pup to be in order to play. Whether he was the leader or the follower, Reese would do what had to be done simply to play.

Working from home for the past few years, I had gotten very used to having him by my side while I worked. He sat at my feet as I wrote, following me into the kitchen as I prepared lunch in the hope that I would leave him something to clean up. (For some reason, he never went after the vegetables the kids would “drop” at dinnertime!)

I swear I can still hear him moving behind the couch where he liked to lie down and take a nap every day because it was the perfect place to keep an eye on me while I worked and make sure I no one entered the kitchen without his knowledge.

His death, despite his age, was a shock and still feels like an absolute gut punch to me.

Reese never showed any signs of illness until a few days before his death, which, to be perfectly honest, we assumed was related to the fact that he enjoyed eating garbage and other less-than-ideal “delicacies.”

When I came home after a night out and realized he hadn’t eaten, I knew right away that something was wrong. Anyone who knows a lab—or more specifically, knew Reese—would know that he never missed a meal.

In fact, you could put your watch next to his belly. At 5pm every night, he would come and sit right in front of you and just watch. If you ignored him, he would start whining, then drool a little…and finally a little bark to remind you what time it was.

At night, I still remind my husband to let Reese out one last time, and I still wake up thinking I need to get home so he doesn’t have to spend too much time in his crib.

I will also forever miss the adorable happy whine she would let out every time she realized we were approaching the cabin, the off-leash park, and the preschool she’s been attending since the first week she was he came home.

I also struggle with a lot of guilt. Did I yell at him too much for him to bark? Did I show him enough love and affection? I have no idea how long those feelings will last.

And I know there are those who will say “he’s just a dog”, but to us Reese was as much a part of our family as the rest of us.

Our home will be forever changed now that he’s gone, but at least we know he’s up in dog heaven, living his best life, rolling in the mud, doing his moonwalk in the lake – and eating all the garbage he can eat, which I assume tastes like steak.

RIP my little peanut butter cup. We love you and will miss you.

Nikki Cole is a reporter for BarrieToday.