The Philosopher's Tone: Thoughts on the passing of a friend

It was incredibly fitting that the sun was shining so brightly the day Donatello passed from this life. Sunshine is the one thing my fella was always full of. And he loved to bask in the sunlight. The gloom and doom of an overcast day would have been inappropriate somehow even though I was mourning a long life well lived.

I have said many times that he was something other than a dog. He certainly processed the world around him differently than any of his seven pack mates. He never met anyone he didn’t like and never met anyone that didn’t like him. On one of our walks, we came across a white pony not much bigger than him, and the two hit it off right away. (There weren’t very many formal walks: on his first ever walk, he laid down in the middle of the road after a short while, because that was enough for him; luckily he was small enough to carry home. Things did get better with time) Perhaps the greatest testament to his likability was the fact that Slade, who barely tolerated anyone, did not mind his company.

He had a serenity about him that inspired the nicknames Pooh and Buddha. His days were mostly spent observing the world around him and meditating. There was quit a bit of napping involved as well, which did not surprise us. The day we picked him out (and took him home as things turned out) Toni was carrying him around as we checked his brothers and sisters. He was asleep the whole time. As he was throughout the duration of his first vet visit.

He came into my life at a one of my lowest points and set about doing everything he could to fix that right from the beginning. We had blocked off the master bath as his sleeping area with his little crate, and I ended up sleeping on the carpet for the next week with my fingers between the grate so he could snuggle and lick them because he missed his littermates so much. As he grew and his gentle soul revealed itself to me, I began to find my own peace. When Toni and I got our matching t-shirts (see https://tributetotoni.blogspot.com/2017/04/portends-and-omens-last-things-and.html for the story), she got hers in honor of Sully and I got mine because of Donatello.

Of all our boys, he was the most trouble free. He needed no training. He was already housebroken when we got him (and I’m not quite sure how that worked because he was living in a barn before we got him). He never had accidents in his crate, which could not be said for any of his adopted brothers. And so content was he in his crate, that one day when we came home from work to let the boys out, I discovered I had forgotten to latch his, and he never bothered trying to get out. Contrast this with Galahad who destroyed not one but two heavy duty metal crates in his bids for freedom.

Really it has only been the last couple of months when his Cushing’s disease moved into its final stages, along with his age in general, that he presented me with any sort of challenges. I had to change up his food several times because for whatever reason he no longer desired or perhaps no longer tolerated the food I was giving him. As the muscle weakness rapidly progressed in the last couple of weeks, he needed help going outside and more especially coming back in, and ultimately just getting up at all sometimes. But for—let’s say—90-95% of the time, he was still living in relative comfort, napping and meditating as he had his whole life. He never showed any sign of chronic pain.

On Saturday morning I knew he would be gone quite soon. I started making plans in my head to take him in to be put to sleep. I tried to take a nap but wasn’t able to so I got up again and saw that his breathing was quite shallow. So I knelt down beside him gently petted him, quietly telling him how much I loved him, until his breathing stopped. It was as I had hoped it would be: as peaceful as a soul like his deserved.

As I reflect on his life and death, it occurs to me that it is all a matter of perspective. Toni and I were married for almost 28 years. I had Donatello for 14 years. Calculating in dog years, Donatello and I were together longer. When Toni and I slowly built our pack over the years, it happened in two distinct phases. We got Shiloh and Sully in 2001, Slade in 2003, Captain Jack in 2004, and Donatello in 2005. We had our pack of five for five years. And between Toni and Sully, we ran a pretty tight ship. As each new member appeared, the previous rookie would take them under their wing and with Sully’s guidance they got a feel for how the pack worked. Then in 2010 Toni found Frodo, in 2012 she found Galahad, and in 2015 she found Hercules. Now between Galahad and Hercules, we lost Sully, Shiloh, and Captain, and then lost Slade shortly after we got Hercules. So we ended up with a completely new pack. Except for Donatello. He has for the past three years been the transitional member between the two groups. This new pack has a much looser code of conduct. They are still a well-behaved group, but less orderly. But in fairness, less order is required. I’m retired and have no set schedule to keep.

Donatello was the youngest of the first five and the oldest of the last four. And now for the first time in 15 years, our household is actually at the maximum number of dogs allowed by local ordinance. Donatello didn’t realize it but he ended up being a trend setter of sorts. He ended up being the largest dog in the pack, at least until Herc came along. He lived longer than any of others so far. He was the first—and only (again so far)—to die at home, and he is the first to die after Toni passed. It is that last one that was the most difficult. I sure could have used her counsel and comfort this time around. But we made do.

As the first four grew older and their eyes got a bit cloudy, the green reflections of their pupils became a bit grayer. Donatello’s pupils have always reflected yellow as a befits a golden boy with a golden heart. When I first noticed his eyes starting to cloud a bit years ago, instead of becoming gray, what I saw in in eyes were like hundreds of little rainbows. I can’t tell how just, how fitting that seemed to me at the time. The thing about Donatello, aside from—and probably because of—his essential serenity, was that he never changed. Where the others all went through their stages from boisterous puppyhood to calm maturity, his state was a constant: he was either born old or he was always a puppy. I’m not sure which. In his last days, when he would go outside, his legs would sometimes give out. He would gently collapse and look at me as if to say, okay, I’m done for this outing. Just like he did on that first walk. And I would help him back to the house. He was still the same little boy I came to love so many years ago.

I miss him. And so do his brothers. I’d like to think his three remaining littermates, Maggie, Sadie, and Poppy, do, too. He had my heart from day one and always will. I don’t need to look for gold at the end of a rainbow. I had a rainbow that was made of gold.

Photos

What real Facetime looks like

Everyone should have someone that looks at them like the way he looked at me.

Say "cheese" buddy

What a face

Winter fun

For a good many years, this is what my naps looked like.

The famous t-shirt logo

Donatello and his brothers

With Shiloh

My two boys

With Sully

At the dog park

With Slade

Good pictures of Slade are hard to find, so I am very lucky to have this one.

With his all-time bestie, Captain Jack

With Frodo

Video of Donatello and Frodo with Captain Jack as referee

With Galahad

The blondies

With Hercules

I credit Donatello's influence in calming Hercules down as he grew; they used to go on long walks together in the back forty.

Group shots

The Fab Five (those are Sully's eyebrows in the lower right...)

The Final Four

Some sort of family meeting going on; I wasn't invited.

Going solo

Mugshots

In case you thought I was imagining the rainbows in his eyes, here's a closeup of the shot above.

Possibly the most typical Donatello expression ever, unless he was smiling.

Full body pix

One of my favorite puppy pix. (I can't lay my hands on the rest at the moment...)

There’s something happening here.
What it is ain’t exactly clear.

I wasn't above making fun of him now and again.

Poser


Donatello also had Horner's syndrome.

Just a leisurely stroll


Sun Worship

One of the things Toni and I would do now and a again was to start a howling fest. These frequently started spontaneously. The television set them off more than once (werewolf movies are particularly effective) and it was a regular occurrence when we left for work in the morning. But sometimes, however, it was just fun to get them going for no reason.

Final resting place