A Dog's Life: My Tribute to Meatball

In loving memory

I used to be deathly afraid of dogs when I was young. I don't know why, exactly - I don't ever recall having any traumatic life experiences that would potentially instill the fear of God in me at the sight of a puppy (as opposed to my mother, for example, who got bitten by a dog once when she kicked the dish it was eating from...while the dog was actually eating. Not very smart, ma). I'm not sure either if I just repressed some memory of a bad encounter but hoo boy, was I terrified! I would, without hesitation, go around and walk another block rather than pass through a street with a dog in it (this is an actual memory from my Greenhills tutor days). Going near a dog and petting it? Absolutely out of the question. 

You're afraid of lil ol' ME?

The first time I ever met Meatball was at a team barbecue that was being held at my (then-officemate) husband's house. Before the actual party, he had already regaled us with stories about Meatball, peppered with reassurances that he was the best, most gentle dog. Meatball was a rottweiler. Whaaaat??? Afraid! I went to the party with my friend, Len, who, for reasons I cannot recall now, brought a stuffed bear with her. The moment Meatball saw us, or rather, the stuffed bear, he tried to get a better sniff, which prompted Len to hold it higher over her head, keeping it out of Meatball's, er, nose. Of course, this only made him think we wanted to play (bear as piñata). I almost passed out from terror at the sight of a rottweiler standing upright, like a person (taller than me)! Well, he was on his hind legs but you get what I mean.

Even little kids love him!

In spite of my initial terror and the accompanying stubborness that comes with being super afraid of something, Meatball shimmied his way into my heart. 

Without even trying, yawn

I will never forget how he would squeeze himself beside me, as close as possible, given his massive size, as though he were the size of a lap dog. Once upon a time, when J and I had yet to cross over from friends to GF-Bf (uuy), I had a heart-to-heart talk with Meatball (obviously, I did all the talking. He was the best listener!) where I told him all of my fears and hesitations, everything that was holding me back from embracing a relationship with his master. I don't know, maybe it was the assured way he looked at me with those awfully brown eyes, or the calm certainty in his distinguished demeanor, but I thought then, someone who has a devoted dog as special as this big guy can't be all bad.

Lounging in one of his favorite chairs

Another favorite memory I have of Meatball was back in 2009 when I was feeling really sick & Jason suggested we take an evening stroll to get some fresh air into my lungs. In the middle of the walk, I sat down by the sidewalk to rest & Meatball sat down with me & laid his head on my lap. That gesture to me felt like such a comfort, like the warmest hug from a friend. 

Mischievous tandem - Meatball & Porkchop sneaking away to cool off in the pond

I am taken aback by how heartbreaking losing Meatball was (is. I still cannot talk about him without crying). Nothing could have prepared me seeing him struggle, trying with all his might to put his paw over Jason's outstretched hand, at the command "shake, Meatball", even if it was obvious he no longer had control of his front legs. What a champ.

Roadtrips with Meatball

I dedicate this entry to my husband, to us who are left behind, as a loving reminder that Meatball was so so very well loved. I am certain he is frolicking in doggie heaven, as sprightly as ever, getting unlimited treats and never being annoyed by teenage boys on those noisy skateboards. 

We love you, Meatball heart butt!

Like a handprint on our hearts