(Originally published on Facebook November 29, 2015)
Dear Ones,
I want to let
everyone know that this past Friday my dog Eclipso died as a result of an undetermined cancer.
Eclipso had just turned 18 and enjoyed, I hope, a good life as well as a
lengthy one. Heather and I found her in a garbage ditch while staying at a bed
& breakfast in Ceiba, Puerto Rico--and she never quite gave up her penchant
for eating garbage. (As a puppy she especially liked used chewing gum and
cigarette filters!) She was born without a tail and was such an unusual-looking
and striking dog that on more than one occasion someone stopped their car to
shout out: “What kind of dog is that?!” We could hardly walk around the block
without being asked this question; the truth was that she was some sort of mix,
but people wanted a better answer so Heather and I invented a breed: the tail-less East
Caribbean Garbagi [pronounced Gar-BAH-zhee]. Such a lofty name deserved a back
story so we gave her that too; this “breed” was originally bred to sniff out
errant unexploded bombs from U.S. Navy training missions in Vieques. It was a
wicked lie, which most people accepted with a nod, and some would say
knowingly, “Oh, a Garbagi.” When one guy said flat out to me, “That’s not a
breed” I quickly retorted, “Well it’s not officially recognized by the American
Kennel Club but we’re hoping the paperwork will get through this year, so keep
your fingers crossed.”
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At the Dome, in Connecticut
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Eclipso’s best friend
was my other dog, Vanya, and she played plentifully with Heather’s cat José.
She’d follow Heather around our apartment throughout the day and knew her as
“Mommy” as that’s what I would tell Eclipso she was called, as in “Here’s
Mommy!” and “Go to Mommy,” etc. But because Heather didn’t reciprocate by
telling Eclipso I was “Daddy,” I remained nameless to my dog. I think she
thought of me as some canine version of “that guy”--that guy who took her on
walks, made her food, took her (yikes!) to the vet, and otherwise cared for
her. Eventually, she and I were the only two left from our original family of
five, and she kept an extra-sharp eye on me, always expecting me (I imagine) to
abandon her, or disappear. In the past year when I was brushing my teeth at
night, Eclipso would come from her bed into the bathroom to make sure I was
still there, and then, satisfied, would return to bed. Sometimes she’d check on
me two or three times until I finished my dental hygiene.
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Eclipso, age 15, at the top of High Tor
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The past year was a
tough one for her as her arthritic back legs wouldn’t hold her up very well, (despite
glucosamine sulfate with MSM, Chinese herbs, acupuncture, rimadyl, etc.) but
she improved once the summer humidity abated and she was walking fairly well
around the block up until the day before she died. When she was 16½ she went on
a 2-3 hour hike to Leatherman’s Cave in Ward Pound Ridge
Reservation, New York, holding her own with the six humans accompanying her.
This past Thanksgiving morning Eclipso had the rally which so often occurs
prior to the end of a life. She was up and walking and greeted my brother and
father, hung out in the kitchen while Julia, her mother Bonnie and I cooked, mooching and getting in the way,
as she always had. It was wondrous--lasted about 7-8 hours before she again
began to decline. She died in our home at 2:35 the following afternoon, five
minutes before her scheduled vet appointment, which I had finally decided to
use as an opportunity to euthanize my darling dog. But she was able to die on
her own, before we could leave for the vet, and while it was difficult, I was
relieved not to have to follow through with the horrific choice to take her
life, and grateful that Julia and I were present at the moment of Eclipso’s
death, along with her vet, Rebecca Stronger, who joined us by phone.
In 2003, after Vanya
died, (also at home and on her own, without euthanasia) Eclipso was despondent.
When I fed her breakfast Eclipso looked up at me as if something was amiss and
made no move toward her food; I knew something was wrong
because, unless she was tremendously sick, Eclipso never
turned down a morsel, much less a meal. I was puzzled for a long minute but I
finally figured it out.
Eclipso was used to having Vanya on her left when she
ate--so I picked up her bowl and put it in Vanya’s place and Eclipso then
chowed down as usual. Heather said, “Wow. Now we know how to honor the dead: by
taking their place.” I have tried, since Heather died, in some small ways, to
take her place, though I fear I’ve fallen far short of the mark. Now I must
find some manner to fill Eclipso’s paw prints, though I am currently at a loss
as to what that will look like.
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| Eclipso & Vanya, circa 2000 |
When Julia first met
Eclipso four years ago she thought to herself, Oh, this dog doesn’t
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| Chillin' in Greenwich, CT |
have very long to live. She was wrong, as Eclipso eclipsed her expectations and wormed
her way into Julia’s heart. Eclipso would mooch at the table from Julia, but
though she wouldn’t give her any food, Eclipso persisted.
“Why does she keep
asking me for food--I never giver her anything.”
I responded, “She
knows what she’s doing.”
Eventually Julia broke
down and became Eclipso’s Chief Advocate for Extra Food. Because of her
sensitive digestion I had to limit what Eclipso ate. “But can’t she have a
little egg?” Julia would ask me.
“Yes, that’s fine.”
“Didn’t you want to
let her lick your cereal bowl scraps?”
Julia worked for
Eclipso.
It’s fitting that
Eclipso died on Thanksgiving weekend--a reminder to me of how thankful I am to
have had her in my life. Our time together spanned the very beginning of my
relationship with Heather, Heather’s illness and subsequent death, and the
start of what I hope to be a lifelong relationship with Julia, who immediately
received the Eclipso Good Vibe Person Seal of Approval. She was a weird little
dog, who was a holy terror as a pup and a sweet tolerant elder dog--and lots
else between the extremes. She will be in my heart for as long as it beats, in
my mind as long as it remembers and in my soul for as long as spirit survives.
Thanks Eclipso, for being Eclipso--no one could have done it better.
ALIASES: Clipper,
Clipso, Clippy, Clipso-Facto, Clipper-Dip, Dippersmith, Clip, Tip-Tap, Dances
for Food (her Native American name), Your Little Friend
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| Stealing another dog's bed |
