Ben 1977 ~ 1991

"SWEET DREAMS, GOOD FRIEND"
(For the Love of Benji)

I tossed and turned all night, knowing what I would have to do when morning broke.

Ben was asleep on his favorite blanket, his favorite toy under his chin, at his usual place by the side of my bed. I listened to his soft moaning, and I knew, that even in sleep, pain had become his constant companion.

How could I ever find the strength to put an end to his suffering? I secretly wished God to take him in his sleep, at home, in peace, among those he loved and who loved him. But that was not to be. What I had to do was inevitable, I knew that, so I prayed for the strength to endure this painful time.

As I reached my hand down to rub Ben's back, memories came pouring forth, one after another, giving me the strength to get through that awful night: memories of little Ben, leaping onto my husband's lap as he read the daily paper. His tail wagging, the yellow bat (his favorite toy) he always carried in his mouth, the terrifying car accident that blinded him so long ago. Everything came flooding back as it would so often in the years to come.

Could 14 years have really passed since that freezing December day when I went to the Humane Society and brought Ben into our lives?

On every shopping trip, Paula, my daughter, and I had to stop in to see the kittens. Probably that was why we already had two cats, three dogs, a guinea pig, and a parakeet. Not to mention six children! This visit always ended with Paula wanting "just one more kitty!!!" "Pleeeeeease, Mom, Pleeeeease!", she would beg every time. "I'll take care of it all by myself, I promise." But this time, the answer was a definite "No!".

After looking at the cats and kittens, we passed the dog room. Stealing a glance into the crowded room, my eyes focused and locked directly on two huge velvety brown eyes and I fell in love. At that very moment , my previous explanation to Paula about not getting any more animals seem so unreasonable.

Fighting off the urge to run to the front desk and adopt this wonderful little creature, I continued along looking at the many cages in that room, glancing back occasionally to see if his warm gaze was still fixed on me. I bent down once again to look into those doe-like eyes and to pat that wavy blonde fur. There was simply nothing to decide...it was love at first sight. I just had to take him home, this was a special dog and he was meant to be a member of the Durgin family, regardless of any previous rules banning more pets from coming into our home.

The homecoming was second only to a visit from Santa Clause. The children's eyes lit up as they smothered him with hugs and kisses. He wriggled and jumped in and out of their arms...and they named him Benji!

Coincidentally, the day Ben came home just happened to be my husband, Bud's birthday! What a gift we had for him! Needless to say, when he came through the door and saw this new addition to our family, his jaw stiffened with irritation as he voiced his objection to letting yet another animal into our house. But, it wasn't long before Ben won him over with warm licks and kisses and a playful nudge. Hurray for Ben!! And besides, who could refuse such a wonderful birthday gift?!

Ben was a cuddly little Cockapoo and we had another little female Cockapoo named Patches. Well, it wasn't long before they fell in love and soon Ben was a proud Papa to little Bo. Bo was the image of his Dad with a disposition to match.

Patches became very sick after the birth of Bo and she couldn't take care of him. He was hand fed by me and coddled and cuddled by Ben. Ben became both Mom and Dad to this little guy, cleaning his ears, washing his face, playing and running with him. But best of all, he became Bo's best friend. Many years later, Bo would reciprocate by becoming Ben's seeing eye dog and taking care of him. Ben was a loving companion to our children and the love of all who knew him.

Most of the memories of Ben fill my heart with tenderness, except one. One day, while tied to his dog run, a neighbor boy unhooked his chain. Our beloved pet was hit by a truck that didn't stop. A concerned stranger took him to our local veterinarian, who knew Ben well. After we received the call, the children and I rushed to the animal hospital and kept a long vigil while the doctor operated to save Ben's life. The operation could have saved his sight as well, but we wouldn't know that for several days to come. We prayed for a miracle and finally got the news....the blow to Ben's head had been so severe, his eyesight could not be saved and he loss his hearing in one ear. At this point, we were given the option to euthanize him or take him home. Many people tried to convince us that we should let him go. They said that a blind dog would be too much trouble to keep. But Ben was never any trouble and certainly never a burden to any of us.

Eight days later, we took Ben home to a welcome committee worthy of a Presidential visit. After settling him in, we went out to do a quick errand. Upon our return, we were greeted at the door by this wonderful blonde canine, his head wrapped in white bandages, his yellow bat in his mouth and his tail wagging a mile a minute. WHAY A GUY!! Nothing could get him down!

He continued to be a playmate to our children. They dressed him up in silly hats and outfits. He was the lead actor in all of their little plays. He was the audience participation person in all of their magic shows. They pulled him in a red wagon, fed him ice cream, popcorn, and potato chips, and went on daily walks. He loved all the attention and basked in the love that constantly surrounded him. Ben would wake from a sound nap, walk to the dining room window, put his paws on the windowsill and bark at a cat three houses away, like he could see it. He was always at the back door to greet all who entered with his toy in his mouth, we always thought of it as his gift offering.

When Ben got into the accident, the doctor told us that, had we decided to put him to sleep, he would not have done it. He said he would have taken Ben to his home and cared for him himself. When I asked him why, he said that after the surgery, when Ben woke up from the anesthesia, the doctor bent down to put some water in front of him for him to drink. When he did this Ben lifted his head and licked him on the nose ever so gently as if to say, "thank you." He was so touched by this act, because Ben had been in such terrible pain and yet was so loving and gentle. Yes, Ben had a lot of love to give and he so generously gave this gift to all he met throughout the many years ahead.

Bo became Ben's guide dog. He would walk beside Ben, gently touching his side and directing him everywhere they went. Over the 14 years we had Ben, we had great times together. Ben was such a big part of every day of my life, that for a long while, I overlooked his growing health problems. Sure, he was slower ...but that was natural, he was getting on in years. And I'd grown use to his hearing loss; I'd pick him up when I wanted his attention. But lately, he was becoming increasingly disoriented too, and he was suffering from arthritis pain, and he was falling down a lot. Was I being selfish hanging on to Ben like I was? I wanted to keep him around forever. But, I was not the one in pain. I had to put Ben first and do what had to be done.

The next morning came all to quickly for me. The trip to the Vet's that day was pure agony. Ben thought he was going for a ride. He always loved to ride in the car with the wind in his face. Or did he really know the truth? No, he couldn't have, he seemed so happy! As we entered the doctor's office, Ben began to tremble. He never had a fear of the doctor before, in fact, he loved to go there. I gave him a hug and he seemed to calm down a bit. I guess, even for "Ben, the Super Dog", who could always handle everything , there was a fear of the unknown. He had always had such strength. Oh, how I admired him! How I wished I had his strength to face any obstacle life would put in his path with unquestionable faith, patience and understanding.

As I stood there with Ben in my arms, I looked down into his precious face and into those beautiful velvety brown saucer-like eyes one last time. I didn't see the distorted gray pupils that had stared back at me for the last eight years since the accident, I saw Ben as he used to be before. The brightness and eagerness was there and he seemed to see me clearly too. And at that very moment, as tears filled my eyes, he reached out his paw ever so gently and touched my forearm as if to say, "Hey, it's okay, I understand. I'm tired and I need to go now. I'm ready, and I love you too! Thanks for the love, thanks for the life, thanks for the memories. Thanks for all you gave me!" And then he was gone...peace took over his little body, but pain took over my heart.

It is a moment I will treasure and remember forever. A bittersweet moment engraved in my heart and in my mind until the end of time. Perhaps, as the days pass, warm memories of Ben will become a substitute for his wonderful physical presence. But right now, the pain is too much to bear.

It still hurts to remember how Bo sat at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Ben to come down, so he could guide him to the backdoor as he always did for the past eight years since Ben's accident. It hurts to see Bo sitting at the backdoor waiting for us to let Ben in off his dog run and when the door opened, Bo would go out on the porch and look around for him. Not understanding that Ben would never enter that door again. I would give anything to gaze, once again, into those soft brown eyes. Will I ever be able to think of Ben with fondness and laughter and without the tears and heartache I feel right now? I don't know.

On the evening of Ben's death, I wrote a letter to him to help me cope with his loss:

Dear Ben.....

"If there is a doggie Heaven, Ben, I know you are there now. You always gave so much and asked so little in return. A little snack, a pat on the head, a belly rub. That was all you ever lived for. Those things are so little to ask for in life.

I will always picture you the way you were happiest, in your little wicker bed surrounded by your favorite toys. In particular, your yellow baseball bat, which I will keep forever. God bless and keep you, Ben. I know you wouldn't want me to feel bad. You always seemed to sense when someone was feeling bad and you would nuzzle up and kiss them until, before long, sadness became a smile! I so wish you could comfort me now, Ben!"

"You left a legacy in Bo, but he misses you too. He sits at the bottom of the stairs and waits for you each morning. And he sits and stares at his snack on the floor and won't eat it because he is waiting for you to come up and snitch it away so you could both wrestle and play at snack time like you always did before. We all need time to ease the pain, Ben. Just one more loving kiss from you would make the world seem right again. You could not see, but you never missed your target when it came to giving kisses. Oh, what a void your leaving has put in this world of mine. You came to us on a cold December day, but you left in the bright sunshine of a June day. You would have wanted it that way."

"Goodnight, my Ben, sleep peacefully in God's loving arms, in a wonderful place where there is no pain and you can see the sunrise, chase butterflies, and hear the beautiful music of the birds again. A place called the "Rainbow Bridge", where you can run and play freely with the wind in your face! A truly wonderful place where you can get a pat on the head or a belly rub just by thinking about it. A place where we will someday meet again for the rest of eternity. Thank you for teaching me and mine so much about life. Thank you for the wonderful memories and for being my friend in every sense of the word. Thank you for everything, Ben. I'll never forget you and I know I will see you someday in that wonderful, peaceful place called the Rainbow Bridge!!

"Sweet Dreams, My Wonderful Loving Friend!"

Dedicated to the love of my wonderful Benji - October 1977 - June 22, 1991

Patricia J. Durgin

Note:

Ben's son Bo, died on July 6, 1992, of congestive heart disease and kidney failure. Bo was never sick a day in his life. Exactly one month after Ben died Bo became very ill and was given 3 - 6 months to live. He was with us for exactly one year from his diagnosis. I feel deep in my heart that the bond between Ben and Bo, father and son, was so great that my little Bo died of a broken heart after Ben left us. He searched for months, never physically finding Ben or able to find peace in his little heart.....then, in July, just a year after Ben left us, he gave up his search and his battle to live without him!
Little Bo
When his kidneys failed, and his time to leave this place had come, I held Bo in my arms, kissed his little blonde head, rubbed his soft velvety ears and said, "I love you", just one last time. I could feel the shattering of my heart as he went limp in my arms to sleep forever in God's loving care. I know he felt my love right up until his last breath, and I will always take great comfort in knowing that. I used to feel angry, at first, to think that I was not enough for Bo to want to stay here. He wouldn't even eat when I wasn't around and I always felt that I was a major part of his life. But, I have put in a considerable amount of thought as to why we are given opportunities to love these dear wonderful creatures, and they, to love us, and why, in such a short amount of time....they are whisked away from our arms and hearts forever. I now feel that God has a plan for these dear little furkids and their devoted caregivers, and we are not to question His plan.

We each have a function to share in this life together...theirs is to give us companionship, trust and unconditional love. Ours.... is to give them good health, protection from harm, a place in our hearts and a love that reaches beyond unexplainable limits in this life. A God that has created a world such as we live in, with all of its wonders and with little creatures, we call pets to share our lives with....cannot possibly have anything but a wonderful plan for the hereafter, which will include all those little furchildren we loved so much here on earth I am certain we will all be together some day...at a wonderful place called the Rainbow Bridge!

But, in the meantime, the memories of these wonderful furkids will be carried deep in my heart to reflect on when I am sad and need to smile, and when I am happy and need to share, and when I get discouraged with the trials and tribulations of day to day life and need inspiration and fortitude, and when I need to give strength and comfort to others who grieve their losses by telling them my little pet stories. It is at those times I will call on my little 'Bridge Kids' to give me courage and fortitude to continue carrying on. These warm memories are the gifts they leave behind when they leave us. "There are no better gifts than those memories you carry within your own heart"

God Bless and keep you my wonderful Little Bo!!!! Rest in peace in the arms of your loving Dad...until we meet again!!

Dedicated to my loving Bo - March 30, 1980 - July 6, 1992

By: Patricia J. Durgin