Blazer Pet Memorial continued

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When we got home, my mom set the puppy on the ground it ran to me and went wild, jumping and barking and running with unbelievable speed around my general area. My mom told my dad that she didn’t believe that this puppy was hers. She said that the puppy chose me (Michael). A truer word was never spoken. From the moment we left that puppy mill, I belonged to that puppy. After the unusual white mark on his nose and forehead, we named him Blaze(r). I write this now with a heavy heart, as later this afternoon (May 8th, 2008 at 3:45 pm) I have to put that puppy to sleep. It’s killing me to do so. I need to write all this down, so that I and/or anyone else who may read this will come to know and remember how loved my puppy is and how much an impact he has had on my life and the life of all those who have come to know and love him. I need to write this while “he” is still in the present tense and not the “was” tense.

I am sitting here at my desk trying to keep my composure, in order to deal with clients, not doing it very well, either. All I can think about is Blazer. And how much I hurt and how much he is hurting. He has been my ever-faithful companion, whose unconditional love for me has never waivered in the slightest bit. He is the weirdest, noisiest, nosiest, wildest dog you could ever imagine. He has a generally horrible attitude. Is grumpy, doesn’t like to be woken up from naps and for lack of a better description, is incorrigible. He is also the saver and savior of my life. Blazer grew into the most amazing caregiver, nurturer, protector and babysitter anyone could ever ask for. His loyalty to myself and my family (natural and extended), is unsurpassed. He saved my life. He would do anything for me, and pretty much has. We traveled much, camped much, walked much, swam much, boated much, rested much and played not nearly enough. I fear that I missed out on many of his prime years because I spent several of my years in a drunken stupor. But he was always there waiting for me when I came home, always ensuring that I made it into bed and that he was right there next to me, looking out for me and making sure that I was ok.

Looking back with love, I don’t know how I would have made it through those alcohol-soaked years without him at my side. He is my rock and now I need to be his. We fought cancer together, and won. We fought strokes together, and won. We have been fighting this brain tumor together, but we have lost this battle. I can’t fix my puppy. At age 17, he has now become very old and feeble. Just recently, he has agonized nightly and I cry all night with him. I know that I must help him to not hurt, but I feel like I am killing him. That maybe he can get some strength back. Maybe he could walk again. He’s done it before and has a good track record in doing so.

But I don’t think so anymore. After watching him suffer last night, I have to let him go. It’s time for my puppy to go to heaven. And I will reside here in hell without him, not knowing if I am or have done the right thing by putting him to sleep today. But I think it is time. Irregardless of all the crap that my family and some friends have been forcing down my throat about putting him down for so long and for so many years, I do feel it inside me that it is his time now and I need to be there for him one last time. So as I close this note on the biggest and most important chapter of my life, with tear-filled eyes, I will take him for one last bye-bye and say goodbye to my puppy from under the stairs one last time. I love you Blazer.

Michael A. Pettit

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