Unconditional Love

I believe he fell in love with me when I pulled this bitch, Maggie, off of him when we were walking around the field close to our house back when we lived in Calgary. The black and white collie pumbled into him and they rolled off the grass and onto the sidewalk. Hugo just laid there and took it...crying. I ripped her off of him and threw her to the side, and Hugo ran back to our house. He was mine after that, we both decided.

I adopted Hugo eleven years ago from the doggie day-care where his previous owner abandoned him, overweight and alone. Hugo growled at me the first time I saw him, bearing his teeth as he backed into a corner and I bribed him with Milkbown treats to get a closer view. I looked at my then-partner and said that I loved him and wanted to keep him. The next day Hugo effortlessly jumped into the back of my yellow Sunfire like it was somethign he'd always done and he became my rescue dog. Since then, Hugo has rescued me a thousand times over.

My love for Hawkins Cheesies is nothing  compared to Hugo's irrational addiction: two banana chocolate chip loaf, 3/4 of a spiral ham, 9 raw doe buns (1 thrown up and eaten again), all the pasta, all the meat, and pot cookies - twice. Two cups of butter when dog sitting, and many other things I've forgotten about, and failed to keep away as a good dog-mother should.

His people skills improved remarkably when Mike entered our life. As many people will tell you, Hugo is a good boy who feeds off of my own crazy and will protect me at any cost. Any. Cost. Like that time we were trying to rent our house out when Mike was away, Hugo laid on the window sil and growled at the applicants during the entire viewing.

Outside is my happy place, and exercise is what keeps my anxiety down, and Hugo joined me often. I trained for my very first half marathon with him, where he reluctantly ran on miles of pavement and dirt roads, keeping me both safe and sane. We've done many hikes together and he came with Mike and I on a few overnight hikes, despite his fear of fire and preference of being strictly an indoor dog. He followed me everywhere last May when I was feeling unwell and he had a habit of laying outside the bathroom, refusing to leave me and my thoughts alone. He went on countless walks those few months in May when my anxiety took over and broke my spirit and my body, despite his own body getting older and preference to car rides over trekking.

Hugo and I lived in many rentals and went through a few cars together. There were a few times I bitched about him,  but I loved having him by my side. New towns were less daunting when you were never really alone. Despite him not being nearly as contact-ey as me, I'm not sure I could ever find a better companion. He loved me when I needed it the most, and loved me when he shouldn't have; there's still guilt from leaving him to travel, despite him being in GramC's hands. Hugo's been the boy I've loved the longest, and has put up with many good-time loves, and has agreed to share me with my long-time love. He hates loud noises, like the sound of a dishwasher being emptied, and arguments between Mike and I. He'll tolerate carrots but his real love is chicken.

Throughout out this post I've jumped between past to present tense because it was the hardest decision I've ever made, to take him to the vet. I still feel like he's waiting for me, barking and excited, when I get home. Any doorbell that rings, at our house or another, I expect to hear Hugo's bark. I miss the feel of his fur, or when he lays beside me when I do yoga, I still save food for him on my plate.  But his life at fifteen was tiring on him, and in so many ways, as Mike explained, Hugo was telling us it was time. I sat in the backseat of the car, a place he was so familiar with, between adventures and house moves, as he growled at the veterinarian, as only Hugo would do up to the very end. Full of chicken, I held that dog, my love, until he was no longer mine.

As we drove to Charlie's, where Hugo was to rest, on the farm overlooking the river, I thought, Heaven can't possibly be merely about always doing good, but perhaps it's based on how much you were loved. As not at all a religious person, I do hope to god I see him again.

Kirstin

Everyone believes they have the best dog. They aren't wrong.