My obituary to my handsome and loving boy- Oliver Tam/Gamble
2009-2019
On July 27th at 10:20, Oliver died peacefully in our arms, and not in pain, after a five week battle with lymphoma. He was surrounded by his two tearful and doting dads, David and Leonard, who cradled him and whispered to his ear that it was ok to move on. We told him that we will be broken-hearted but relieved to know that he is no longer in pain. We assured him we will also be fine and will help him pass on. We also told him the journey he will take will be, for now, alone, but it will be certain that we will join him someday when our time comes. He seem to have understood it as he closed his hazel eyes for good. His last breath was shallow and quiet as he slipped away from our arms and into a more serene, comfortable existence. We hope that where he goes will be a place that will welcome him with open arms and provide him with all the love and comfort that we have tried to give him in his 10 years of life.
Oliver has been a truly unique dog. From the first day we got him as a puppy at 12 weeks, he has been truly one of a kind—independent, strong willed, lovable, aloof, intelligent, capable of great love and curiosity, a true ratter who loved nothing better than to catch and kill any rats, rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, snakes, frogs, grasshoppers and even racoons. If there was a character he reminded me of, it would be Snoopy—the Ace Flight Navigator sitting on his kennel believing he was chasing the Red Baron, flying his imaginary plane. Oliver was strong. Built like a tank at 48lbs, he was sheer bone and muscle in motion. Every move he took was deliberate, powerful and he seemed to have a great sense of his own being. He was a true representation of his breed, and we were so blessed and fortunate to have counted him as our own tribe of three. He was just a presence. A close friend of mine once described him as “dignified” like an English Gentleman. I like that. A lot.
Oliver is an old soul or, as some would call him, an “old head.” He seemed to have a sense of knowing about himself, the creatures and people he lived with. Nothing ever fazed him; no sound, no sight ever bothered him. He had a great sense of people, good, bad, interested or uninterested in him. On the other hand, he reacted to kindness and love and returned it back a hundredfold. If you showed no interest in him, he would walk away after giving you a good sniffing. He would remember you and would write you off forever. Somehow, his memories about places and people were always amazing. He knew every store and home in the neighbourhood that had a treat or hugs for him. He had an affinity for banks. He knew every receptionist and where they hid the treats. A look, a paw and a high five usually got him his prized treat and even more. He recognized streets and would pull his way to get to these places even if they were 10 blocks away. If the resident were home, he would be rewarded with a piece of cheese or any delicacy that awaited him. If there were none, a rough scratch behind the ear would suffice.
Oliver chose us. In an audience of four, he picked both of us to be his parents. At 10 weeks, he came up to us, gave us his full attention and squarely sat next to us, declaring unto himself that we were chosen to be his parents. I will never forget that day as I told David, “We have found our forever dog.” Now I know “forever” is not a word you would use for a dog. It is “forever for now.” Since that fateful day, I am amazed how well he blended into our sensibilities and way of life. It was truly the extension of our being and for us, his.
We celebrated his 10th birthday in May. I remember telling David that Oliver had reached two thirds of his life, and I was looking forward to the next five. Naively, I hoped, as he got older, he would be less of a terrier and more of a lap dog. I would let him be old with me and surround him with the love he was accustomed to receive. I was anticipating to relish the slow-paced long walks without the distraction of chasing a rabbit and having him by my side, together as we watch the sun go down. He would be on my lap, and he would be content having his ears massaged as I sang:
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,
You make me happy when skies are grey
You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you,
Please don’t take my sunshine away.
My mom used to sing it to me when I was a child. It was our song, Oliver and me.
I will sorely miss my Oliver, my knight in shining fur, my solace, my friend, my companion, my sense of centre. He was there when my life was in the shadows, and he was there when I was happy. His wet nose and tongue often found its way in my ear, and it never failed to give me the shivers and giggles. That is the way he thanked me whenever I gave him his daily brush and his neck massage. I would often squeal at him saying “Oliver! you are going to find that rat in my ear if you keep that up.” In return, I get my wheaten hug, and I feel that I have sampled a slice of heaven for a moment. That Wheaten hug gave me the assurance the world is right and all was well. Every sadness and anxiety for the day just melted away like lemon drop.
Oliver loved both of us equally. That is the beauty of Wheatens; they love everyone in the family; however, I think he loved me more ( don’t let David know that). He would lie in our bed and want his butt scratched contentedly. He found great pleasure in licking my feet, and I would offer both of them willingly. I just loved to feel his heart beat in my hand as he snored when the television was on. He would stay with us until we turned off the lights, and he would hop down and go back to his bed, located next to my side of the bed. Now that spot will be empty and his absence will be sorely felt. Even after three days, I swear I can still hear him breathe, snore or shift his weight on the bed. Truth be told, I can even still smell him. Is he still lingering around? I also miss the clicky clacky of his nails on the wooden floor. This cavernous quietness is quite deafening, actually.
I will miss all of his 48 pounds of being. His smell that reminds me of fresh cut hay, his cold nose that is often covered in mud when we do our forest walk, the snow balls that cling like large bells to his legs on a cold winter day, his soft fur that had hints of black, red, wheat and white, his Christmas tree shaped tail that wags when he sees me, his fat paws, not so white terrier teeth and his low bark. I will also miss his disposition, attitude and his joy. I will also miss trimming him and getting a big lick every time I brush him out. Most of all I will miss his hugs. Oh how I will miss his hugs. I will miss calling his name in the forest and him by my side watching television. I will miss him in the kitchen as he uses his nose to tickle my leg gently, hoping that I would share what I am preparing for dinner. I will miss him placing his chin on my leg staring longingly for table scraps as we dine. Today, it is only emptiness. It is like falling in a hole with no end in sight.
What I will also miss is the sound of his bear bell on his collar and the weight of his leash on my hand when I walk him to work and to the park. It is an extension of my hand and my soul. That feeling is very grounding as it gives me a sense of purpose and belonging to a living creature that totally trusts you and counts on you for its very survival and safety. Dogs have a sense of keeping one real. Like kids, they live for the moment. Not the past, not the future. The present. We have a lot to learn from that. Here-and- Now. True Dog Wisdom
Dogs are not animals, they are truly little people. Oliver has the exuberance of a six year old but the sensibility of a 65 year old. For that, I am blessed with a dog-pup that knows when to look at you with sad puppy eyes under his fall of hair or huffs at you when you make a silly comment and walks away in a snit. I can always count on echo-locating Oliver by the bell he carries on his collar. I know that if I do not hear that bell, Oliver is up to no good somewhere and will probably return dirty, muddy, or worse, clutching a dead animal. I will miss those moments, and regret if I ever scolded him for bringing me “presents.” He would look at me with that quizzed look saying, “What on earth are you growling at me for? I got you a present?” with his tail furiously wagging away. I have to pick up the dead things and discreetly dispose of them without his being aware.
We have group hugs. When David and I give each other a hug, we would say loudly “AWWWWW,” and out of the blue, a furry ball will appear bouncing from nowhere and joining the hug. That is the only time you will find Oliver doing the jumping thing. There is so much joy in his face that he feels that the three musketeers are together forever. One for all, all for one. Now only two are left.
In the last two days, he was so tired, and given his state, it was the last bit of spent energy left in his little body. It has been almost five weeks since he was diagnosed, and given his life expectancy of eight weeks, Oliver had used up his time/energy allotment. The bank showed it was overdraft. No credit left. The bank is closed. Pay up time.
On Saturday, we woke up at 8:00 am and took him for his final walk. After 45 minutes, I asked David if I can have the last half an hour left with him. We sat by the patio beside the pool, and I held him and sang to him. He was happy as a clam and I was wondering if my decision to carry the act was a wise one. He clearly did not want to go home yet. But I was informed at 9:15 the vet had arrived, and with heavy heart, I took him back to our home. A very kind vet administered the final act. In less than 15 minutes, Oliver slipped away at 10:20. My Oliver had commenced his long journey without me.
That day was hard on me…very hard. I cried, I expected that. My heart was broken, I expected that. Expecting Oliver to be turning around the corner with the energy of a nuclear bomb, this was all a bad dream. Yes, I half expected that. I was wrong.
There are no miracles left. I expect I will continue to feel his absence for as long as I live.
We have decided to bury Oliver in the coming weeks in the farm where he spent his Fridays. Wanda has said he loved an open spot that had a creek running through it. There is where she thinks he will be happy. He loved to chase the frogs, snakes and whatever critters that lay await for him. He will be happy as a clam.
I will buy and plant a tree to commemorate him. It would be a strong, big, sturdy, massive tree that will house lots of animals, birds and god’s creatures. It will be showing off its autumn colours in blazing red and bright green in the spring and summer. Fall is Oliver’s favourite time of the year. It will be quenched by the creek and give shade to everything that seeks its shelter. It should stand alone because Oliver would like that. He does not like to be cramped. The tree should survive Time because Oliver will remain with us for the rest of our lives. Wanda recommends a Red Maple. Red Maple it is.
I will also take his fallen fur I have collected in the last week and bury it in his other favourite spot close to where we live. Rabbits make their nests there too. Wouldn’t it be ironic if a rabbit ever used his fur to makes its nest for their young? Oliver would find that funny. I would like to go there occasionally and think that he is still there and let him know he is still missed. I will take a moment a light a candle and sit by it till it is no more. I will remember the moments Oliver dug a hole, dragged a branch or climbed a tree. Those were the days of mud, burrs, snow and more mud…I would not trade any one of them for all the diamonds of South Africa.
Lastly, I cut his lock off his fall to keep it on my desk at work. Everyday, I touch it and say, “Hello Oliver! Good Boy.” I also have his baby teeth, a tuft of fur, a little wood he chewed when he was a puppy and a little toenail. It will remind me of the joy he gave me and he will always be a part of me. It will be stored in a silver box that will be with me for the rest of my days.
David and I will miss him sorely. Our Tribe (as we call ourselves) will be two again. Yes, we will get another Wheaten, but Oliver was special. I don’t know if the next puppy will channel Oliver, but if it did, I will then truly believe in reincarnation for Oliver will not want us to be without him. Should he give me a sign, I will let you folks know.
Oliver will go to a better place, of that I am certain. He will say hello to Bella, Mac and a whole lot of other Wheatens that have passed. Bella, Mac and their friends will show Oliver the best hunting spots and places to get treats, the best place to take a nap and take in the sunshine of Eternity. In this place, the sun always shines, the snow is always cold and fluffy, there are no nasty burrs and twigs that will get caught in their fur and the food will be gourmet. Oh, let’s not forget prey! Bella will also introduce him to all the other Wheatens that had moms or dads in the Wheaten blogs because Oliver will bring with him their love and wishes.
It is my sincere wish that when I pass on, Oliver will be waiting for me with his wonderful smile as his only ornament and I will recognize him immediately. Accompanying him will be David. I hope they will recognize this old man as I enter this rarified realm of Wheatens together with the mommies and daddies that loved them on Earth. Without a hesitation, we will all exclaim “AWWWWWW,” big group hug and the three musketeers are back together again. One for all, all for one. The Tribe is together at last. We will be young again…forever. We will walk our country miles together once again. No aches, pains, worries or sadness. Only joy.
I will close this by saying thank you to all of you for following the life of Oliver. I know he has touched many of you and has given you a smile when you needed it most. I know Oliver had touched and even comforted some of you in your darkest hour. If that is so, his life was not wasted. We will be around the Wheaten blogs, but I think I need to put Oliver’s memory to rest. Time to mourn for my boy, quietly.
Good bye Oliver, my beautiful boy. Sleep well. Fly away. I will miss you till the end of time plus a day. But be certain, we will meet again. Your daddies love you so much.
Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high
And the dreams that you dream of
Once in a lullaby
Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly
And the dreams that you dream of
Dreams really do come true
Someday, I wish upon a star
Wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where trouble melts like lemon drops
High above the chimney top
That’s where you’ll find me
Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly
And the dreams that you dare to
Oh why, oh why can’t I?
You are back home where you belong, Oliver… wait for me
Good bye and my love to all of you. Oliver gives you a final woof and a graceful Wheaten bow.