The Dearly Departed

My dog died today.

It wasn't unexpected. He had health complications for awhile. He was the runt of the litter, so it goes with the territory. He wasn't put to sleep, but he also didn't suffer. He was just in the arms of my mother, took one last deep breath and his heart just stopped.

You see we always knew it would be his heart. He had a heart arrhythmia, caused by enlarged heart muscles for his size of a dog. He had to take regular medication for it, but never seemed to mind.

In his years of life, I never saw him growl or snap at anyone else. It wasn't his personality. He loved meeting new people and would literally try to "talk" with those he would see. He was quite social.

Maybe that's why I picked him. But in a way, he picked me. When we went out to Bristow, Oklahoma, to see the Mrs. McClendon's puppies, he was the first one to walk up to me. So I picked him up and didn't let him go until we got home. Back then, he didn't really look much like a dog, so much an ewok.

He had his favorite people too. His groomer in Tulsa. The neighbors in Houston. The squirrels.

I named him for the street I grew up on, Ramsey. In a way, he bridged my life from Louisiana to Oklahoma, through his name and his presence.

All in all, it was only fitting that he died in the arms of someone who loved him dearly, and he died of a big heart.