Sometimes TTBOOK shows can gestate for a long, long time. The show we re-aired this past weekend — about loving and losing dogs — is a great example since I started researching it in the before-times, the summer of 2019, shortly after we lost our Boston terrier Bacon to cancer. That first loss was very, very, very hard on my wife and I, and pitching a show about the deep bond we can share with our "heart dog" was healing to me. So thanks for the free therapy, all.
If you need some healing of your own, I recommend the Pet Loss Resource Center, which was an invaluable source of compassion and support as I worked through my grief. One bit of advice I took from that group: for all your sorrow at losing your dog, there are innumerable old dogs who, through no fault of their own, are in need of new homes that can accommodate their advanced age or ailments. Providing a forever home to an older dog — in our case, a dog around Bacon’s age at the time of his death — can be a productive way to both grieve and move forward.
My wife and I went HARD on this bit of wisdom, and I have zero regrets. Okay, some regrets, I’ll get to those.
I’ve lost many dogs since then, unfortunately, more than most. We lost Mac — Bacon’s partner in crime and co-star in the end-of-episode stinger — in the winter of 2020, also to cancer. This past winter 2021, we lost Mr. Bones, an elder, blind Boston we adopted shortly after we lost Bacon, to a bundle of mysterious ailments we ultimately deemed as "being very old." And just this summer 2022, we just lost our fourth Boston terrier, a lovely lady named Lemon.
Lemon on one of her river adventures. Mark Riechers (TTBOOK)
Lemon was deaf and blind, and of undetermined age — somewhere between 8 and 13, according to her foster mom. It’s not like they have rings you can check like a tree, but you can age a dog from their teeth, and the first time we took her to our vet, they confirmed our suspicion that she had lived quite the life before she came to us.
You could just tell from observing her that she had lived. She’d clearly had several litters of puppies and was tender with our very young and very annoying Chihuahua in a way that Mr. Bones — affectionately referred to as "the angry, bite-y old man" — never was with her. Despite her limited senses, she instantly knew what our most expensive, comfortable blankets felt and smelled like, and demanded she be placed — yes, placed, she did not like wandering around the house because that would be unbecoming of a queen — upon them, ideally in an elevated position like an ottoman. We knew the refusal to wander was a preference (not fear) because when you took her outside, she came to life, snuffling the ground to pick up unseen and unheard directions toward treasures known only to her. Mostly, it was an unseen route to the best, warmest, breeziest spot to lay in the yard and smell the spring air as it flowed through her nostrils. Occasionally, these excursions were about finding the grossest thing in the yard to eat, because dog.
We found out Lemon had lymphoma early this summer. Lymphoma in dogs — like many cancers — is more about stalling the progression of the disease than being able to remove it entirely, and the treatment options were both highly expensive — we’re talking $10K here — and limited in effectiveness. It was not a good day, except for the part after the appointment where we introduced Lemon to the concept of a pup cup (PS, did you know Culver’s does those? We did not.)
Lemon enjoys a pup cup at Culver's -- it's just vanilla custard. Mark Riechers (TTBOOK)
In the end we opted to put her on wait-and-see palliative care plan of a steroid that would slow the spread of her cancer while sparing her the experience of chemotherapy. Dogs can tolerate chemo pretty well, as we saw with Bacon, but it just didn’t feel fair to put her through that for just a few extra months, if that.
Lemon (right) rides on Mark's (middle) back while he walks Waffle (left). Mark Riechers (TTBOOK)
We only really ended up having a month or so with her after that. We took her to a dog park on the shores of the Mississippi River, placing her in the water for wading and sniffing of smelly water. She didn’t care for walks much, but she did enjoy riding a human via backpack, as a royal might.
But primarily, per her decree, we gave her ample time for her snuffle adventures in the yard. She would bark any time she needed to go outside — we’re using pretty liberal definition of "need" here — and she would spend hours outside in 20-30 minute increments, given what a hot July day is like for a short-nosed dog.
I like to think we gave her a great final chapter. She was cuddly and loving, and snored in a way that made me cry — Bacon had a similarly high-decibel slumber and he had become my white noise machine over the years, and Lemon helped me get the quality of sleep I hadn’t had since 2019. We needed her, and she needed us. It was a beautiful — albeit short — dog/person bond.
Mark (right) and Laurie (left) on Lemon's (far left, dog) gotcha day. Mark Riechers (TTBOOK)
People who foster dogs, adopt seniors, volunteer in shelters, work in veterinary offices — their hearts take a beating. And occasionally, their wallets do too. It’s the unfortunate reality that there will always be more dogs out there than there are loving homes for them, and no matter how much you love animals, you will always see and hear stories about pets that didn’t get the final chapter they deserved. Stories that will break your heart just a little bit more. But personally, I’ve found stories of people who love the old ones and the sick ones to be the only sort of glue that can piece my heart back together — hell, my heart probably looks like a goddamn stained glass window at this point, but the glue seems to be holding.
I thought I’d share our story, just in case you find yourself needing to make repairs of your own.
I can’t stress this enough — if you have lost a pet recently, consider checking out the Pet Loss Resource Center for support groups and resources on talking to kids and family about what you’re experiencing.
—Mark