I Read Banned Books

I received this text message from my sister at work late yesterday:

Lil Bit died this am. Dad is building a coffin.

Lil Bit was the first dog my parents owned after I went away to college. I think she was purchased as part of the whole empty nest syndrome for my momma. At the time, my dad was working away from home in Illinois, and my sister was a recent high school graduate. I suppose that this little Maltese helped to fill a void. She was my momma’s baby from the time she came into our lives until my dad retired about seven years ago. Then she became my dad’s world; they were virtually inseparable as my momma has not retired. Lil Bit became his best friend like the adage states. While my momma reconciled that they had a special bond because they shared the same birthday, my sister and I know it was because he finally had someone to follow him around the house and the yard. Lil Bit loved my dad as much as she loved eating fried fish, french fries, and popcorn, walking to the mailbox, and chasing squirrels and cats out of the yard.

Over the past five years, Dad stated that Lil Bit was now older than him (in dog years, you know). The years were good to her; it was only until the past two years that her age really started to show especially when warts, arthritis, and cataracts ailed her. My dad often joked that he was going to build her a ramp to get up on the couch when she could no longer jump on it by herself.

During my recent trip home, Lil Bit had trouble breathing and was diagnosed with a heart murmur. I cautioned my parents that they should prepare for the inevitable. My dad joked that she would live past 100 (in dog years) like he would. I am not sure he realized that could only be one and a half years longer at a minimum. The veterinarian told my dad that she would need to be on medication the rest of her life and assured him that he would let my dad know when she was in pain. It was just two days ago that my dad found her lying very still in her favorite place in the yard on a late sunny afternoon. It was apparent that she was in great pain and that most likely hurt my dad more than I can imagine. As he drove her to the animal hospital, I am sure that he had decided it was time to let her go if that was the decision that needed to be made. The veternarian asked to keep her overnight for observation, and my dad reluctantly agreed.

The next morning, the veterinarian respectfully broke the news to my dad in person rather than over the phone. Lil Bit had passed away in the early hours peacefully in her sleep. My heartbroken dad was left to return to an empty house once again to break the news to my momma. As she was not home from her graveyard shift yet, he walked out to his shop, a sanctuary where Lil Bit often spent many hours side by side with him. When my momma returned from work several hours later to find the dog collar on the kitchen table, she instinctively ventured out to the shop to find my dad weeping quietly as he toiled over the last task he could do for his best friend, build her a final resting place fit for a queen.

I am sure this sounds a little silly, but I know things will never be the same around my family home. Lil Bit was a fixture in my parents’ lives for 13 and a half years. As a pet lover and owner myself, I cannot fathom the idea of losing one of my own cats or dog, but I can feel a little sympathy for my own parents in this time of great sadness in their lives. Lil Bit has jumped onto her couch in the sky. May she rest in peace and live in our memories for many years to come.