For the Love of Bentley

It was September 14, 2014.  Keith and I were out running errands on a Saturday afternoon when we drove past a Petco.

Outside of that store, was a sign that read, “Dog Adoptions Today!” It had been more than three years since we had to help my pug, Dawson, cross the rainbow bridge.  And our shih tzu, Topo, was a little lonely.  Keith asked, “Do you want to stop?”

Well, of course, I did!

But … “It’s already 4:00.  I’m sure all of the goodest boys are gone.” Insert sad, but curious face.

He turned the truck around faster than Mario Andretti can take a turn. (There’s a family joke in here as we often refer to Keith, who likes to take turns on two wheels, as “Mario”.)

We walked into the Petco and right at the door was this little shaggy black shih tzu mix with the cutest underbite you’ve ever seen.  His foster mom picked him up and he snuggled right into her.  

“This one,” Keith said, “is a lover-boy!” 

We found out that the rescue had gotten “Grant” from Animal Care Services (ACS), they aged him to be about two, and initially labeled him a Pekinese.  Now … I don’t know what kind of dog lovers they have working at ACS, but it was clear that “Grant” was NOT a Pekinese.

His foster mom told us he was, in fact, a big cuddler.  He had some kind of allergy issue going on, which they were trying to address with diet. He was house-broken and walked well on a leash.  

“But,” she warned, “he DOES like to eat!”

We looked at the remaining pups, but kept being drawn back to “Grant”.

As I squatted down to pet the precious pooch with the perfectly adorable underbite, Keith asked what I thought.  And if I would like to take him home.

That underbite, though ...

A grin crept across my face.  Is this real life???

“Well YEAH!” in a most “what kind of question is that?” kind-of-way.

A little bit of paperwork, a walk-through of Petco to pick up necessary items to add a pup to our pack, and we loaded “Grant” into our truck.

We hadn’t even made it out of the parking lot, when both of our noses crinkled.  The stench, unbearable. And we rolled the windows down.

It was Grant!  He was the source of the stinkiness!

When we arrived home, introductions were made. Topo appeared excited to have another four-legged family member in the mix.  Grant could’ve cared less.  There was probably barking, of the “get out of my face!” variety.

First things first, and before anything else (including giving him a name), Grant needed a bath!

Bentley's first day home

We tossed around names until finally settling on Bentley.  After all, Keith had always wanted a Bentley.

I can’t recall the other names we considered.  I guess because he always just looked like “Bentley” to me.

Throughout the next several days, we discovered that Bentley’s foster mom was right – the boy had an appetite!

He also had an internal clock that would rival any military drill instructor.

At 5:00 p.m. on the dot, he started barking.  It was, of course, time to eat!  (Remember that voracious appetite?)

Who could say "no" to this face?

He certainly held us accountable, that’s for sure.  Not that we would ever forget to feed our pups, but wow!  He was so accurate, it was scary!

Until he decided that 12 hours between meals was more than enough and he started waking up at 5:00 AM for breakfast!

As two retired people with no reason to get up early, we weren’t his biggest fans.

And so it was decided.  Dinnertime (and thus, breakfast) would be changed to 6:00!

We found he was in fact, the consummate lover-boy.

He loved to snuggle.  To a point.

I’m one of those dog-moms who kisses all over their dogs.  In turn, Bentley would reward me with a guttural noise that sounded like Chewbacca.  

“Oh how cute,” I thought, “He’s talking to me!”

Until he nipped me on the cheek for having loved on him just a little too much. And his imitation of Chewbacca obviously translated to “get out of my face, woman!”

We were amazed that he really was well-trained. 

He walked on a leash like a pro.  And certainly not like Topo, who acted like a wild gazelle being chased by a lion when on-leash. Zig-zag. Zig-zag. Zig-zag.

Bentley sat when instructed (especially if we were talking about treats!). 

And to my recollection, he never had an accident in the house.

He spent most of his days lying in the living room and avoiding Topo at all costs.

Topo would request Bentley to play by way of putting his snout right next to Bentley’s ear and barking incessantly.  Bentley in return, barked back.

And laid there. 

Our housekeeper, who loves our dogs, would vacuum around him.  Because He. Would. Not. Move.  And she laughed.

Thus, earning him the nickname “slug”.

Bentley was also good at scratching.

He scratched. And scratched. And scratched some more. Until his hair came out.

Could it be?  Could Keith and I have just adopted a dog with mange?  Time to visit the vet!

The vet allayed our fears – it’s not mange.  But he IS allergic to something.

Over the next several months, the vet tried one treatment after another after another.

He finally suggested that rather than throwing darts to figure this out, we have a (very expensive) allergy test run.

A couple of weeks later, the good folks at Texas A&M sent the results. 

Dust mites. DUST MITES. Our dog was allergic to dust mites!

To say we were shocked is an understatement! 

Keith was one of 10 kids growing up and his OCD-mom would not allow their home to be dirty.  The house was spotless, every day, even during harvest season.

As for me, I did my fair share of chores growing up.  My mom made sure my sister and I knew what it meant to clean house!

But dust being dust, it does exist, despite ours and our housekeeper’s efforts.

And Bentley was suffering for it.  Our poor Boo-Boo!

Now that we had an answer, what’s the best course of treatment?  Our vet really must’ve liked playing darts!  Because he continued trying various treatments.  

We tried different meds, different foods, and different shampoos. 

Keith and I were tired of making his monthly house payments.

I asked a friend, who is also a vet, but whose office was too far away from our home, what she would suggest.  Her answer was quick: Apoquel.

That afternoon, I phoned our vet and said we would like to try Bentley on this medication.  Our vet balked, stating he still had some other ideas (read: “my kid needs braces”) and that Apoquel was going to be prescribed as a last resort. “No,” I demanded, “we want to try it now!”

He finally agreed, but with the condition that he would need to monitor him for cancerous cells on his body.

Dude.  Really?  Haven’t you grabbed enough of our money?

In about 30 days, and with the addition of an incredible shampoo aimed at treating itchiness, our Bentley-boy had stopped scratching and smelled so much better.

Bentley continued to tolerate Topo.  And by tolerate, I mean they learned to co-exist peacefully, even sharing a bed together.  But Topo didn’t dare ask Bentley to play.

Strangely enough, when we would travel and the dogs would stay with Keith’s daughter, Courtney, and her family, Bentley would literally play with their dog.  There’s even video-evidence of said playtime.  Because honestly, we couldn’t believe it!

He wasn’t completely lazy, oh no!

Mention the word treat, and you were greeted with excited barking and hopping!  Yes, hopping! Like a rabbit!  Hop, Hop, Hop!  And he knew exactly where in the pantry the treats were!

Can you say “food-motivated”?

When he was younger, we often walked into the living room on a number of occasions and found him lounging on the back of the couch or chair (more often the chair because it was close to the window and he liked to look outside).

Even better, was being outside and climbing the waterfall overlooking the pool!

He was quite nimble, apparently.

Until he wasn’t.

As the years went by, he started to show signs of aging.

His hips weren’t always working properly; specifically when he went potty, his left leg slid out a little further than the right – like a kickstand.

And gray hairs began to appear underneath that precious underbite.

The vet thought perhaps he was older than the two years the rescue had aged him at as cataracts were starting to form in his big, beautiful brown eyes.

As for his hips, the vet thought arthritis was settling in and moving up his spine.

But it never once stopped him from alerting us to the time of day.

In February of last year, our old man Topo stopped eating. And we knew it was time to say good-bye.

As any pet owner can tell you, this was an extremely emotional time.  Making decisions that break one’s heart often are.

As I struggled to say good-bye to my Topolino, my Topo, my old man, the one who was my companion after Evan left for college, I saw something happen with Bentley that compounded all of the feelings (because there weren’t enough tears being shed).

Bentley had developed a head bob. 

“That’s not normal,” I thought.

The head bob would occur a few times a week, usually at night. Until they became more regular.  I researched what it could mean and was quite sure there wasn’t much that could be done without an exorbitant amount of money being given to the vet.

A few weeks after Topo passed, we found the cutest little shih tzu puppy.  Again, my husband asked, “What do you think?  Do you like him?”

I mean … what’s not to like about a teeny-tiny little fluffball?

Encanto was a favorite of our Grands at the time, so we decided we most certainly wanted to talk about Bruno!

Introductions between Bentley and Bruno went well, or so we thought. Bruno kept wanting to get close to Bentley, but Bentley kept moving away from him. 

Unfortunately, Bruno became ill just two days after we brought him home. 

We decided we wanted to change veterinarians and a friend suggested we go see hers. “They’re incredibly compassionate and don’t take a bite out of your wallet,” she said.

Bruno’s well-puppy check became a sick-puppy check.

They gave us a pamphlet on Distemper along with prescription puppy food and milk that could be fed to him through a syringe.

Oh! And they aged him at about five weeks old – not the eight weeks that the “breeder” had told us.

After 13 emotionally-draining days of trying to syringe-feed him and staying up at night, holding him up in the mist of the humidifier, Bruno succumbed to the nastiest disease a puppy can experience.

It was heart-breaking.

And we had lost two dogs within a matter of weeks.

Bentley didn’t seem to be overly-concerned. And I can’t help but wonder if he had smelled something on Bruno.  As if he knew.

Shortly thereafter, we found another puppy.  Something to help our hearts heal.

We already had a Bentley, so why not add an Enzo (as in Ferrari) to the mix?

A full-on ball of energy, Enzo has spent countless hours trying to get Bentley to play with him.  He had even gone so far as to take toys to Bentley, placing them in between Bentley’s legs, Enzo lowering himself to the carpet in a show of submission.

And Bentley snarled and barked at him in protest.

By this time, Bentley’s head bob had begun to appear regularly.  And then not-so-regularly. And then regularly again.

A visit to our new vet (who we absolutely LOVE!) told us he believed Bentley’s head bob, along with his “hip issue” was more neurological in nature. He took so much time in watching Bentley walk and reading through and sharing a medical journal with me.

He did agree with our previous vet that Bentley was, in fact, much older than what we were originally told.

After discussing alternatives to treat him (involving a spinal tap and an MRI to the tune of $3000-$4000), we opted for making him comfortable and ensuring he gets his nightly treat right on time. (Though we did have to cut back on his table scraps – his triglycerides were high.)

Little by little, we watched him age right before our eyes.

He was falling often. He was eating less. And he started making these noises that Courtney described as him sounding like a seal.

On that cue, we ran down the checklist:

•          Has he eaten?
•          Is it treat time?
•          Is it close to dinner-time?
•          When was the last time he went out to potty?
•          Does he need a bath?
•          Maybe he wants some cuddles?

His internal clock, which had been so reliable over the last eight years, was now all-kinds-of-off.  He would wake up around 4:30 AM, demanding something (not necessarily food).

He began to have a hard time getting up after having laid on the living room carpet for so many hours at a time.  His little legs stiff and unable to support him. 

He eventually was able to raise himself, stand for a moment as we patiently waited for the wobbling to stop, before he made his move.

And then he would fall.

Towards the end, he was skipping entire meals.

And the falls were more frequent.

He would now spend hours in mine or Keith’s lap.

And he accepted my pestering him with kisses.  He even started kissing me back, something he had rarely done in 8 ½ years.

He even accepted Enzo sticking by his side or laying on top of him as the case may be.

It was time to make yet another painful decision.

From that point, Bentley enjoyed all of the table scraps: bacon, steak, fajitas, and chicken. Topping it off with whipped cream.  To hell with triglyceride levels, right?

And we spent time laying in the sun.  One of his favorite past-times.

After making the call and scheduling Bentley’s final vet visit, he seemed to perk up. He was eating. He was walking well. He wasn’t falling as much.

Once resigned to doing what was best for Bentley, was he proving to us that we had made the wrong decision? I asked Keith no less than 52 times whether we had.

To be honest, when Topo passed, we didn’t expect Bentley to make it to the end of the same month. Then, we thought we’d be lucky if he made it to Summer.  Then, we weren’t sure he’d make it to the end of summer. Then we thought we would lose him before Christmas.

We were lucky enough to get almost 12 more months with him.

Ultimately, we knew his quality of life had decidedly declined and we needed to do what was best for Bentley.

Our Bentley-boy. Our Bentley-Boo. Our slug.

We told him what a good boy he had been. And how much we loved him. We tussled his soft coat, gave him kisses, and said good-bye.

It’s been two weeks since we helped Bentley over the rainbow bridge.

The first few days, I swore I heard him doing his best seal imitation in the next room.  And I still find myself looking for him in his bed at night. 

It’s strange how they become such an ingrained part of our families.  These little balls of fur.  They give us such unconditional love. And comfort when we’re feeling down.

And while the good memories are starting to surface, little-by-little replacing the sadness in my heart, I know I’m going to miss Bentley for a very long time.

He was just one of those dogs. 

And for that, for all of the love he gave us in those short 8 ½ years, it was the least we could do.

A final act of love. For Bentley.