Dexter: Gone from My Little House, not my Heart

I lost my baby beagle boy, Dexter, last week.

Dexter was running down the middle of the blacktop, a couple miles from Our Little House on a rainy, chilly September night in 2011.

Dale called me: “Do you want a beagle?”

Me: “I’m guessing you’re brining one home?”

Dale: “I can leave him here.”

Me: “I’ll see you both in a few minutes.”

He had gorgeous eyes that looked like he wore eyeliner. We were watching an episode of the television show, “Dexter” that night when I said, “He has killer eyes, his name is Dexter!”

Ironic the television show returned in its new incarnation last fall just as Dexter fell ill.

Dexter was insanely cute, needy and a cuddler. He was a big baby, as I’m told many beagles are. One time I took him to the vet for his shots and the vet took him to the back. I could hear him literally screaming and was worried they had dropped him or something. “No,” the vet told me upon his return, “He saw the syringe. I hadn’t even touched him yet.”

Dexter was part of the “6-pack” of dogs we had that will forever live in the subtitle of my Reader’s Digest book, “Living Large in Our Little House: Thriving in 480-Square Feet with Six Dogs, a Husband and One Remote.”

We allowed Dexter to roam the woods when he first came to live with us, but he soon came home full of small punctures and we later learned, a case of contagious mange. The vet theorized he had an unpleasant encounter with a wild coyote. His running days were over, and Dale gave his high-pitched yip the name, “Dexter’s ‘kill me first’ yip,” as he said it wasn’t good for anything except telling predators he was there for the taking.

As beagles are, Dexter was exasperatingly stubborn sometimes and besides, “Bubby,” he was also known affectionately by the nickname, “Dammit Dexter.”

Maybe because Dale was the one that brought him home, or maybe because Dexter instinctively knew he and his “daddy” were the only two males in the household, Dexter was closer to Dale. I walked him and fed him, and he slept on my side of the bed, but when Dale was home, he was with him.

When Dale left us, we spent a lot of time comforting each other in our grief. Every time I cried, that dog was up in my face with his special “huggins” he gave by putting his head on my chest.

His strong little legs allowed him to jump feet from Dale’s chair to the couch in a single bound. So, last fall, when he could no longer jump on the bed or the couch, I knew something was wrong. His vet found anemia, but after other pictures and tests, still didn’t know the source. We treated the anemia, and he held his own for a while, but he eventually started limping. I took him back and insisted on further scans and x-rays, which showed an unknown anomaly, likely a tumor, on his pelvic bone. All I could do was manage the pain with medication and try to keep him comfortable while hopefully, still allowing him a quality of life.

I had no idea we’d have such a short time left together. Last week, while Cheri, one of his “aunties,” and our pet sitter, was visiting us, he collapsed. My Aunt Kathy drove us to the vet hospital and Cheri stayed with us until Dexter left us to be with his daddy, who I believe was waiting with Sweet Sade Sue, Molly and Dakota and so many others. Another “aunty” Cindy met us in town to give me a hug and cry with us.

Dexter was such a chill little guy when I found a leash that had peace signs on it, I knew it was for him. I know Dexter is at peace and no longer in pain. That’s the only thing that gives me comfort as I grieve the loss of my baby boy.

Dexter was one of a kind.  As all my fur babies do, both past and present, he holds a special place in my heart. It’s just the three of us now: Me, Chloe and Abbi. But I rescue – it’s who I am – I honor those I lose by saving another, so I don’t expect it will be just three of us for long.