Goodbye, Constant Companion. RIP Rask.

I stepped out onto the lightly frost-covered deck this morning and looked out over our backyard. The air was filled with a slightly bitter chill and was forced to pause.
My backyard- the one I grew up in and came back to own after my mom passed away and have seen for almost ten years, was now, a completely different visage.
Oh, the heavy, dew soaked lawn, trees, bushes, garage and sidewalk were the same. But for the first time in sixteen-years, I was alone.
Shelly had left for work a few minutes before. I descended the deck steps and slowly walked down the cracking, blacktopped sidewalk. I would normally look behind me and encourage Rask, our grumpy, perk-eared lab-mix down the steps. In years past, he'd gleefully hop down them and run out into the large yard, do his morning business and then proceed to hunt for any cats that might have the godlike intestinal fortitude to enter his kingdom.
But this cold, September morning, I stood there alone, save the busy birds carrying out their morning duties and the occasional school bus rumbling passed with zombie-like kids onboard.
My eyes, still puffy from heavy crying, slightly burned from overuse as I reflected back on the past sixteen-years.
You see, yesterday, Shelly and I had to make the most difficult decision every responsible, loving pet owner had to make. The painful, but necessary choice to let our beloved family member go.


Rask chose us when, on a whim visiting Lollypop farm and quickly became a beloved family member. While initially standoffish, the little, yellow lab, mix immediately made if clear that he had his own ways and that we, the two-legger servants of his, must hastily adapt to his needs and wants.
We fell in line, happily.

The majority of my days were spent with the neurotic, loyal pooch. Way back when I was going to Nazareth College. I'd have late afternoon or night classes and would be home alone with Rask. He'd demand some attention and then lay down on the couch- leaving me to my own devices. (usually homework or at that time, Ever quest.)
Through a few moves and other of life's difficult times, as well as the good, he's always been there for me.
When I started writing seriously and now professionally, he became my constant writing companion and partner.
It seems he and I had the same touch of OCD and creatures of habits we truly were. Whenever I'd head down the hall way to my office, he was never far behind. And god forbid if I closed the office door without him inside with me. He would just stand there until I realized what an unfeeling idiot I was and that he was waiting or until Shelly would finally come down and let the poor guy in. (I love to play my music really loud while I write so even if Rask could talk, and there were certainly times I believed the cleaver canine could.) I would never have heard his annoying pleas to let him in.
Once inside, he would lay down on the layers of blankets that were well-defined as his. His favorite was a Dallas Cowboys blanket that kept his old, tired bones warm during those cold months. It was that same blanket he laid on as we took him to the vet's yesterday. I'm sure he found some comfort in it. I hope so at least.



Anyway, in the office, while I feverishly tried to compose new stories or as I've been relentlessly working on lately, pulled my hair out working on revisions, I could always count on my four-legged best friend to be laying behind my chair, offering me low snores of support.
Now, as I sit and work on this blog, I can feel the empty space behind me and my eyes welling up with tears, my fingers search desperately to find the meaningful words of just how important Rask, Bubba, Bubba-Dog, Bubs, Bubba-Dude, Rask-a-million, Rasc-a-licious, Rask-n-ator, truly meant to me. I say me, not in a selfish way, no. Not at all. I say me, because I would never dare to try and understand how much Rask meant to Shelly, Tali or anyone else.
I know some people would think I'm a too sensitive, wuss or pansie, “Bah, it's just a damn dog, get over it!” Well, to them I say a hardy “Piss off and good day!” in return.
You see, Rask was the first (and probably only) dog that was truly mine.
Sure, I grew up with some amazing dogs and cats. (My mom could never, would never turn away a stray no matter if it were walking on four legs or two. That's just the brilliantly compassionate and loving soul she was. And she passed that blessing and curse onto me.)
And, as I have repeated, he was my constant companion. Wether it be while sitting with Shelly on the couch watching movies, and he'd fight to sit behind her. (I still believe that's why she likes to sit so far forward on the sofa. Little bastard. Lol.
Or, taking him for his morning ritual on his leash out in the woods in Manchester or letting him out in our backyard.
Memories of him fill my mind as I sit at my writing desk and take turns staring at the computer screen and the candle flame, flickering next to my keyboard. A flood of amazing, touching, funny, annoying and even angering scenes flit before my eyes like a movie on fast forward.


Sixteen years was a long, love and joyful life time for my boy. I certainly will struggle with his absence for a long time to come. But I am beyond grateful to that stubborn, sensitive yellow lab who turned out to be more of a true friend than many people I actually thought were.
He never let me down. Oh, piss me off when he'd chew up some shoes as a puppy or take off running in a snow storm and refused to come home? Hell yes. But, in the darkest moments of life- parent's deaths, life-long friendships deaths, money issues, wrestling with deep depression, anytime. My boy, Rask, Bubba, was always there. He never judged me, or made fun of me, or took advantage of me. (well, unless he parlayed my bad short-term memory into an extra cookie.)
No, he was the best friend I've ever had.
Again, he, never let me down or expected nothing more than affection and love in return for his constant companionship and loyalty. I know quite a few people who could learn a hell of a lot from this bat-eared pooch named after a Dave Somerville D&D NPC.
So, yeah, my office it bit darker and emptier now. But soon, a day will come where I'll feel his comforting presence again and I'll smile.
I'll swivel in my chair and tell him to lay down on the Cowboys blanket and tell him about my latest novel or short story.
I feel blessed and damn lucky to have let Shelly talk me into bringing that skittish, anti-social pup home that fateful day. It's funny, looking back as I rub my graying (okay, okay...gray) goatee , that little bastard turned out to be an awful lot like me. Funny how things turn out, huh?
Here's to you my constant companion. I love ya peckerhead and I'll miss you!!! Now, for christ's sake, will ya light some place so I can get back to editing this damn novel?





Love you Rask!!! Rest in peace, Bubba!




More writing and other super cool updates coming in the next week. Thank you for allowing me to indulge in my moment of loss and grief gang. Y'all rock!!!


-TAE