John Albert Thomas Solo Piano

Goodnight, Bent

Today was a terrible, no good, very bad day. We said goodbye to an old friend. A couple of months ago we discovered that our dear ol’ Bentley had a rare form of nasal cancer. They gave him one to three months to live then. It’s been a difficult time as the cancer cells grew in his nose so that he couldn’t breathe very well. I lovingly called him Darth Vader. As the days wore on he slept more deeply and longer; his eyes more sunken; and his demeanor grew weaker. Whenever he started sneezing we had to race him outside otherwise we’d have a bloody mess on the walls and furniture. Today was the day; it was the right time.

Becky’s parents came to watch the children while we took Bent to the vet. Before we left we stood around Bentley to pray. We stood there weeping, petting his furry mane, and thanking God for 10.5 wonderful years of life. We drove away from our house knowing that Bentley was no longer going to greet us as the garage door lifted. “Come, come, Bentley,” we used to call to him so we wouldn’t run over him.

At the vet we took him in and they explained the procedure. We sat there crying as we held Bentley still and running our hands down his long, course tri-colored hair. First, something to relax him to the point of sleeping. Then the antihistamine overdose to stop his beating heart. It was instantaneous. His breathing stopped and his life was no more.

I cannot describe the depths of anguish in our hearts today. I don’t remember an instance in life so painful as this, wondering if you’re doing the right thing by ending the life of an animal you love so much. Images of Old Yeller pop into my mind.

All I can say is this…Bentley is the dog I always dreamed of having as a boy, when I first read “The Heart of a Dog” by Albert Payson Terhune. He was a member of the family. He was loyal. He was patient with our little children. He loved walks and he loved sleep. Oh, I’m going to miss him SO much.

Thank you, Lord, for my dear ol’ Bent. Thank you for the joy he brought into our lives. Thank you for the security he brought, and the quiet loyalty he gave.

Well, B, I don’t get to let you out tonight, wondering why you won’t come back to the door, only to find you laying down looking at the stars and listening to the neighborhood night sounds. Oh, the memories. My heart aches for you, buddy.