The Gift of Lego the Dog
This morning I walked the Back Harbour Trail with my sweet puppy. Well, I walked and he frolicked, unencumbered by his tired almost 14 year old body. As is his pleasure, he blazed the path, darting in and out of the woods, picking up as much mud as possible to proudly wear on his white legs and to eventually shake off in the living room. Every once in a while he would look back at me to make sure I was still there and then off he would go. We did the long walk, all the way to the fish plant, through the woods and back to town. It’s been so long since we took that route. In his last months here on earth he was quite steadfast that we walk down to the front harbour, turn right towards the Front Harbour Trail and then back up Lincoln street. I was never sure why this path was his twilight years’ favourite. I suspect it had something to do with fallen ice cream cones, the probability of meeting his favourite people (defined as anyone with a pulse), the smell of fish and the house on Lincoln street with a basket of dog treats outside.
Yesterday, we said goodbye to our sweet boy. He left our lives in the same way he came into them…with hot dogs and Barbara the librarian. Lego began with a six year old’s melt down at the corner of Lincoln and Kaulbach. Dusty and I had just walked up the steep hill from the old library and were not yet done with the uphill portion of our walk home when he went boneless on the step in front of what I think is now the Waves of Light Gallery and began to cry, “I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog.” This was not the first time we had had this conversation. Dusty was famous for running after people yelling, “Excuse me! Excuse me!!!! Can I pet your dog? I more than shared my boy’s passion for all creatures furry, but Tony had a dream of living in a house without pets…something he had yet to experience. I had promised Tony that after my cat died I would grant him his wish.
While sitting on that concrete step trying to console Dusty, Barbara the librarian walked by. What’s wrong, she asked? ……He wants a dog, I replied….and what’s wrong with saying, no, she said? What’s wrong, I thought? This child is my ultimate weapon for getting a dog and you want me to simply say, no? That kind of finality, that kind of clarity simply won’t do. I need to leave a spark of hope. The child needs to understand that no, doesn’t always mean, no. This was it, the defining moment when I knew that if Dusty and I teamed up to achieve our goal and applied all our powers of manipulation, we stood a fairly decent chance of materializing our puppy. And so began a relentless campaign to bring a dog into our lives. You have probably already figured out that Tony was no match for a Dusty/ Mama team, so I’ll fast forward a bit.
With the hindsight of having already had one rescue dog with fear issues, I knew that the dog we needed in our lives was one who could handle the unsupervised love (abuse) that sometimes accompanies young children. I began to call local shelters and clearly describe the sort of dog we were looking for…in a word, mellow. One day, while perusing Pet Finder, I happened across the beautiful face of a black and white puppy with one spotted ear. My heart leapt. This must be our dog! He was at a rescue organization for Labs. Strange, he really didn’t look like a Lab, but pure bred was never my goal. I called the woman up and enquired about this beautiful creature. Oh yes, he definitely met my temperament requirements. She had noticed that he leaned against every person he met, even against the vet while receiving his shots. The only problem was, he was being adopted by someone else. My heart sank. How could this be true? This was our dog. This had to be our dog.
Two days later, the phone rang. It was the woman who ran the rescue organization. The woman who had adopted the puppy had relinquished him. She had brought him home, he chased her cat, pooped on the floor and she had pronounced him, untrainable. Well, thank goodness for that. The next day we drove out to Enfield, Nova Scotia to meet our puppy. I expected to walk into an animal shelter, but instead walked into a woman’s beautiful living room. There were French doors that led out into a large fenced in yard and the rescue dogs had free rein to go in and out. Lego walked right up to us, sat in my lap and kissed us profusely. There was no question that he was ours. After signing all the required papers we went to the car and I remember how he hopped right in with complete trust. On the way home we stopped at an A&W. Dusty got a hot dog. It was thirteen and a half years later that I would learn that he shared that hot dog with Lego.
Lego’s promise of being a mellow dog was more than fulfilled. Not to say that he didn’t eat his share of hats, polish off an entire tray of scones, eat a men’s size 14 sock, eat an entire tray of hand painted easter eggs, steal balls, take off into the woods to chase deer and give me a few unintended canine chiropractic adjustments at the sight of a chipmunk. He did stay off the furniture (when we weren’t home) and always came back (when he was ready). I guess I was the same kind of dog mom as I was human mom. No means probably not. But whatever Lego lacked in military obedience he more than made up for with LOVE of absolutely anyone and everything. He was the Back Harbour greeter. If he spotted a human 2km away he would simply SIT. Let me tell you, when Lego did not want to move, he did not move. I often found myself waiting on the Back harbour trail for Lego’s favourite person to catch up with us. Most people were charmed to find out that Lego had waited just for them. I never had the heart to tell them that everyone was his favourite person. I mean, the truth is that to Lego everyone was special. He was right, of course.
For almost fourteen years, Lego has hardly left my side. He followed me from room to room and watched my every move. He greeted every day with unbridled enthusiasm and insisted that I accompany him on his optimistic journey through life at 6 am. Over three years ago Lego was diagnosed with Cushings disease. It’s the Cadillac of dog illnesses. We thought we would lose him then, but there is an unfreakingbelievably expensive medication that controls the symptoms. Never in a million years did I think I would pay so much to keep a sick dog alive. Never say never. Having Lego in our lives was simply priceless. Most dogs don’t make it past 2 years from their diagnosis, but most dogs are not 100% propelled by optimism. It took over three years to get to the point where the medication was only partly working. He was still hobbling along and insisting that we keep walking, but he was stumbling and declining quickly and I knew that we were only a short while from his worst symptoms returning. We made the unfathomable choice to end his life while he could still walk and eat and at a time when we could all be there.
Dustin came home from University on Friday. Yesterday morning, Lego’s last day on earth, Dustin and I took him for a walk. Strangely, instead of turning towards the front harbour, Lego took us down to the back harbour. We walked by Barbara, the now retired librarian’s house. When she saw us walk by she ran out in her purple housecoat. Dustin, is that you, she called to my 6’2″ child? We told her that this was Lego’s last day and amazingly, she proceeded to tell us the story of how little Dusty had been sitting on that cement step crying that he wanted a dog. I had just told Dustin the story the evening before. Our versions were identical.
The sun was shining yesterday and Lego had a wonderful walk. Having Dustin with us made him extra optimistic and after walking the back harbour trail he also took us to the front harbour. We took him for his last car ride (also his favourite thing) at 10 am. Everyone at Chester Basin Animal Hospital was wonderful. They had a big room waiting for us. Before being injected with the sedative, Dustin/Dusty pulled out a hot dog. He came into our lives with a hot dog and that’s how he would leave it.
Right now, out hearts are broken, but Lego will continue to repair them with beautiful memories. Rest in peace you beautiful dog. We miss you more than words can say. Every day with you was a gift.
So beautiful, Anna! What a loving, humorous, wonderfully-written tribute. 💙
Thank you so much, Kate.
What a lovely tribute. So sorry for your loss.
Thank you, Lisa.
I could hardly read to the end. I had to cry. Keep all the eonderful memories and his love on your 💕
Thank you, Anke.
So sorry to hear about Lego’s end, Anna. I remember his friendly presence at the knitted hat workshop. He was a special dog for sure! We had one years ago we still miss him. Thank you for sharing Legos story! How lucky and smart he was to choose your family!
Thank you, Clare.
Writing through my tears, this was a beautiful tribute.
Thank you.
Thank you, Mary.
A beautiful memorial to a much-loved dog. Brought tears to my eyes Anna.
Thank you, Deborah.
so sorry for your loss
and thanks Anna for a wonderful life story of Lego that will live on
Regina
Thank you so much, Regina.
I am so sorry for your loss . I think our 4 legged friends really complete us and make us better humans. May Lego’s memory forever live on and bring joy and smiles for a life well lived. Lynyrd will be 14 in July and I treasure every moment.
Thank you so much, Peter.
So sorry about the loss of Lego. A real member of the family.
Thank you, Andrea.
Awww, this made me cry! What a wonderful dog Lego was to your family! My little Maltese Rylee also had Cushings disease, which was very hard to control in a 9 lb dog. I’m so sorry for your loss of your furry family!💖 Jennifer
Thank you so much, Jennifer.
Fly high on your Angel Wings, Lego. You were much loved and much admired and loved as well by all in town who ever encountered you.
You will be missed but always remembered. Rest in Peace sweet Lego. 😪💔😪
Thank you for your sweet blessing, Sharrie.
Oh, Anna, What a beautiful tribute. I have tears in my eyes. I so enjoy reading your blog and seeing what you’re doing, and completely identify today with how much joy a dog brings. I read some of it to Steve. Thank you, and take care of yourself. You and Tony and Dusty have lost a family member.
Love,
Penny
Thank you, Penny. So nice to know you are reading my blogs. I know how much you and Steve love dogs. Give my best to Steve.
Oh Anna I am so sorry to hear this news! I remember my sweet Phoebe and Lego playing at the Lunenburg Academy together many times when I lived in Lunenburg. Strangely, I was just telling one of those stories to my daughter the other day. I hope that Phoebe and Lego are playing together now on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge. Lego was certainly one of a kind.
My heart goes out to you and your family during this most difficult time.
Thank you, Genevieve. I love that image of Lego and Phoebe playing on the other side. I’m sure it is so.
Such a beautiful recounting of precious memories. Luckily you didn’t say no when Dusty persisted in wanting a dog. So sorry you had to lose him, but you made the right decision to spare him future pain.
Thank you, Irene.
I’m sitting here crying and I don’t even like dogs.
What a wonderful tribute to your Lego! Will you write my obit Anna?
Thanks Vicki. You made me laugh.
sorry Anna, I meant to say Rest in Peace. Thank you for sharing,
Carol
Thank you, Carol.
A lump-in-the throat/tear-in-the-eye read about a cherished pet. He had and gave his family a best life, he was absolutely a ‘pedestal’ dog. There’s no easy way to see them off, but it sounds as though his leaving was a good one.
Thank you, Judy.
What a lovely tribute to your puppy. And how wonderful that Dustin came home to be with you all. Blessings upon you and your family.
Thank you, Shirley.
So beautifully written -so powerful -brought tears to my eyes as I remembered all the wonderful cats that were part of my life
Thank-you for sharing this
Thank you, Julia.
Ever read Richard Attenborough’s “Just a Dog”?
My heart breaks knowing what you’re going through.
Thank you, Alison. I haven’t read that book, but I will take this as a recommendation.
Oh Lego! You best of dogs. He was so lucky your family found him and loved him. I met him as an old fella but he was so warm and gentle and obviously loved life. You took such good care of him right up to the end, big hug to you and yours 🥰
Thank you Jo.
So sorry for your loss. This was an incredibly beautiful tribute ❤️
Hugs to you
Thank you, Pam.
I am sobbing. I have had seven dogs. Saying goodbye to five of them, all such good companions was painful.
I am so glad you gave in and got Dusty a puppy. I think every child needs to grow up with a dog and because my parents gave me a budgie instead (I guess I should have thrown a tantrum) I determined that my children would have one (two at one point). But they were as much for me as for them.
You are a wonderful writer, Anna.
Much love to you, Dusty and Tony. I’m so glad that Tony relented; I’m certain he’s just as sad as you are. But how did you manage to get a cat as well? I suspect Tony figured that once you had one animal what’s a second one!!
Thank you, Lynn. The cat is another story. So glad that fur ball is here to comfort me.
Love.
Not sure I can type my message through the tears. What a lovely story of Lego’s life. He was a special dog that had a special family who loved him dearly. Rest well little one, you will always be in the hearts of the ones who loved you.
Thank you so much.
Oh dear Anna, Dusty and Tony, we are so sorry for your loss. What a beautiful and touching tribute to Lego.
Love, Pam and Rowena
Thank you so much, Pam and Rowena.
Anna I am so sorry for your loss and I shall miss seeing you and Lego strolling around Lunenburg. Thank you taking the time to write this beautiful tribute to Lego. Sending blessings and hugs and understanding. Lego was a well loved dog who will be missed always.
With love,
Lynda
Thank you, Lynda.
What a beautiful tribute to Lego. Touching, funny and full of rich memories. I recall meeting Lego while trying on hats at your studio. He had to come in! And then he laid there peacefully. What a loss! We are so sorry. Lego will be missed and very remembered.
Our best to you and your family.
Gary and Gayle
Many thanks, Gayle and Gary.
Aw Anna, I’m so glad I caught this beautiful tribute. I am also glad I got to meet Lego last September when I was visiting from Alaska with my friend Katie. Thank you for sharing this. I know deeply all he meant to you and your family. So much love to you. I truly believe its the hardest thing we do to make this decision for our beloved pets, and that part of their gift, besides unconditional love, is to take us through the journey of grief.
Thank you, Jean. I love what you wrote. Some comfort there.