BRUTUS

This is our family pet Brutus. Well actually, I think all the animals on our farm are pets in one sense or another.  Brutus is an Australian Shepherd. (river rock-clay) is what they call his coloring/markings.  I feel very fortunate to write that all of our outside farm dogs have been great, docile, family-oriented dogs. We have lost a few over the years as do all people. And they become so much a part of our lives.  No, they aren’t our children, but I believe their should be a new word to describe their place in our lives/hearts because they are more than a family dog too.

This is Brutus. He is so much joy for me. Mainly since our children are all grown and most days its just him and I here.  There is a special iron chair that sits on the back deck, and most mornings and evenings, you can find him there without fail.  He sort of took over the big chair with arms that sat in the corner, tight to the glass door, out of the weather, I suspect. So, it was only natural to buy him a large dog pillow and ensure he is comfortable. Right.

Some mornings Brute can be found laying on the front deck, where he can watch the road and take in some sunshine.  He is a keen watch dog.

If you drive onto our farm, and you know us at all.  You only need to look for Brutus and you will know where we are. If he is sitting in the yard between the house and barn. Its a safe bet I am out in one of the barns. If He is on one of the porches. I am in the house. If he is no where to be seen, he’s with me in the back acreage. He will investigate the woods, the swamps, and will run in front of my tractor tires a dozen times, but always seems to stay out of harms way. Thank God.

He will …if I give him the nod, or pat my leg he will climb the step on my Oliver 1750 and he will push himself against the front of the seat and sit there till I cannot hardly work the pedals with ease. When I stop and say lets go, he will sit. I climb off the tractor and try to coax him to no avail. He wants to ride.  In the fall, He wants to ride in the combine. I will not allow him to do this unless the door is shut and if I need to get out I shut the machines down completely so he or I never fall into moving parts.

He is my buddy, my friend, my protector.  When the grandbabies are here, he is between them and the house, and if they start to wonder out of their designated play area, he is ahead of them. How does he know where they are going….smart smart dog.

Alaina and Brutus

My cousin stopped by here once, a man I hadn’t seen in almost 20 years, when I went to the porch to see who it was he informed me that he had been by the day before….but in HIS WORDS        “You dog put me back in my truck”.        Brutus never came near him but the look  must have sent a powerful enough warning. I laughed and said  “That’s his job”.

I have taken care of eight people as they were leaving this world. I was their entire hospice team. I would be gone for two or three weeks at a time, but my family said, Brutus can hear your truck coming and he starts to whine and cry and shake. When I arrived, he met me at the door of the truck and continues to whine and cry and shake while I pet him and then, he is under my feet for days.

I fell off the top of a ladder (roofline level) onto a wooden boardwalk. I was unconscious. An ambulance was called, and paramedics worked on me. Our oldest daughter said that during that entire time, Brutus wouldn’t leave my side. When their Dad drove in the drive, Brutus got up and ran to him and then raced back to me. He was a devoted pal.

At our last vet check, it was discovered that he had contracted heartworms, and it was too far advanced to put him through the “chemo nightmare” that is akin to that kind of treatment for a canine. We chose to love him and make the most of the days he had left. The vet guessed about ten months.

One cold winter morning, I couldn’t find Brutus. He was always at the door waiting to come in. I put on my coat, and I called to him, and suddenly I saw him crawling on the ground trying to get to the back deck. He was on the south side of our farmhouse, exactly where I wouldn’t have expected him to be. He was in bad shape. I picked him up and dragged him up the deck and into the kitchen, where I placed him on an oversized brown comforter. His legs were cold all the way up to his body. My heart ached. I lay down on the comforter and cried, petting him and whispering to him. He never warmed up By now, his legs were stiff, and he was breathing hard. His eyes were almost completely glazed over.

I made a decision that was a hard one to make. I loved this boy, loved him. He wasn’t my dog. He was my happiness, my sanity in a world gone evil. He taught me so many things, and he was the best therapist and friend for me. If I were sick, I would go outside and lie down on the ground in the sun and let the sun bake the sickness out of me. He could sense that, and he would lie down beside me tight, with his head resting in my armpit and remain there as long as I did. He was always wherever I was. Our grown children would come to the farm and say, “We know to look for Brutus to know where ma is at.”

I called the vet, explained the situation, and said that I didn’t want him to suffer. He had always been there for me, and in his time of hurt and pain and departing, I wanted to be there for him, to do the hard thing I never wanted to do.

Using the comfort to lift him, so as not to inflict any more pain on him, we loaded him in the back seat of my Ford Super Duty. Carl drove, and I sat with my faithful companion. His head was buried in my lap. When we arrived at the vets, they came out and gave him two shots. It was a long hard trip to the vets that day, and I can tell you it was an even longer tougher trip on the way home. My beautiful Brutus was gone. He was still laying on my lap, and his fur soaked up my tears. Once we were back at the farm, I dug his grave, beside the childrens playhouse, where I knew the dirt would never be disturbed and I hope that he feels the joy and love of those kids running around, and I hope one day when I cross over, he is waiting at the gate, whining and shaking for me.