John Albert Thomas Solo Piano

Top 10 Things I'll Miss About Bentley

1. That face. We looked through an entire Baby Names book to find the perfect name. The ONLY name that fit that face was Bentley. (Please excuse the other two characters in the picture below!)

   

2. Arm wrestling. Actually his mouth, my arm. He loved to throw his paw over my arm and pretend like he was going to bite me, but was always gentle.
3. Scratching at the door. Didn’t matter which door. If he wanted to be on the other side he let you know with a single yelp or a single scratch on the door.
4. Giving up so quickly on ball or Frisbee chasing. Bentley loved to chase the ball or Frisbee. He just didn’t like to do it more than three or four times. Now if you throw in some tug-o-war he might stay interested.
5. Sleeping ALL OVER the house. He loved to lay down between the coffee table and the couch, then get up and move to the tile entrance, then the kitchen floor, and on he went. You never knew where you’d find him. But he loved his sleep! It was always funny when we’d be watching a movie and hear him start to whimper and shake his body. Boy, he wanted that squirrel!
6. Welcome home groggies. We would pull into the driveway and open the garage door and there he would be standing up and stretching from his nap. ALWAYS standing in the way. “Come, come, Bentley” and he’d make his way to the front of the house. We’d have to jump out of the car very quickly to make sure he didn’t start chasing a pedestrian or dog walking by.
7. Middle-of-the-night potty breaks. Sometimes he’d wake us up in the middle of the night because of the urge to purge. (Sometimes he just wanted to be outside.) I hated it. I’d have to stay up for a good fifteen minutes because he had to find his spot, do his business, and come back. On many occasions, he wouldn’t come back to the door and I didn’t want to yell into the night and wake everyone up. I’d turn off the outside lights, go outside in my bare feet and bare necessities, find him and whisper as loud as I could for him to come in. Very frustrating, but I’m still going to miss that.
8. Playing with the kids. He was so gentle and fun-loving. The kids would be chasing each other and he wanted in on the action. He was such a horse that he’d end up knocking one of the little ones over with his bushy tail or big rump. He loved to shake hands with them. He must have loved the kids so much because he liked to leave little presents near the sandbox!
9. Watching Becky care for him. Becky would clip his toenails, cut off the matted hair, groom him, clean his ears and eyes. When he was groomed he looked like royalty, a real king of the backyard jungle with his stately mane.
10. His mane and his big, square hips. I LOVED running my hands through his incredibly soft, white mane. It was so stress-relieving and he loved it, too. But even more he loved backing up into you, just begging you to scratch the top of his rump. His back hips were shaped like a big square box. I always thought it was cool.

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.