He May Have Saved All of Our Lives

Pets
This Dog Was His Family’s Rock—and He May Have Saved All of Our Lives

We wanted a watch dog ... a guard dog, but we had no idea how much he would protect us.

You may like A Boys Best Friend;
https://iamjohnasilva.blogspot.com/2017/11/a-boys-best-friend-has-secret-past.html?m=1

We met Rex at the cargo pickup area of Alaska Airlines. A standard Labradpoodle born on Valentine’s Day in 2001, he came to us in a small wooden crate. It came to us like all the other ones, one goes - another comes. We had adopted him from an out-of-state breeder,  based om s trace and our only request to the universe was that he have a calm demeanor, able to endure the poking and cuddling of our eight-year-old daughter and six-year-old son. (Owning a dog has these major health benefits, fyi.)

We were a sweet young little family—me, my wife, and our children, Kyla and Jay. But for years I’d felt as if we wouldn’t really be complete until we had a dog. Also, I the husband traveled some 200 days a year for my job, and I knew I’d feel safer if a large animal was sleeping by the door at home.

When we opened the crate, the last piece of our puzzle fell into place. With his curly black hair and intelligent eyes, Rex was beautiful. He was so small that he fit into the palm of my hand, his big paws lapping over the sides. He was also scared. As I pulled him close, I felt his heart pound and wondered if we’d done the right thing, taking him from his mother. But it was too late. Kyla and Jay were already fighting over who would hold him next.

Over the following months, we spent endless hours watching Rex play with his KingKong toy or roll around the living room rug. Like most labradpoodles, he was smart. He was housebroken, mastered house-training rather quickly and never chewed on our furniture or shoes. He had little interest in his kibble and bits, never quite saw the point of playing fetch, a pursuit for—sniff!—sigh! --well, dogs. He considered himself one of us. Did you know that dogs have these superpowers?

Some days after school, I’d find Jay curled up with Rex inside his crate. When I suggested that my son get out of the dog crate, Jay yelled, “Rex wants me in here! We’re friend -- no, brothers!”

By his first birthday, Tex had grown into a vigilant 50-pound guard dog. He manned the front door like a Marine, barking ferociously at terriers and Chihuahuas walking by. At night, he situated himself so he could watch all three bedrooms and the back door. My wife felt safe with him there, especially when her husband was away. Sometimes, when she was missing her husband a lot, she'd hold Rex close. It comforted her as she longed for the man who made her laugh, the man she adored.

Years passed. The kids grew and started elementary, middle school and high school. Then one day, shortly before Kyla's senior year, our world fell apart. Kyla discovered an e-mail account full of messages between my wife and one of my friends. They’d been having an affair for years. Here are the signs you might have a cheating spouse.

I the husband insisted on a divorce. I grieved so deeply, I felt as though I’d been widowed. I tried to keep every­thing stable for Kyla and Jay: making meals, paying bills, letting them know I was there for their grief too. But seeing the weight and depth of my sorrow, they hesitated to lean on me. So they turned to Rex.

Jay, in particular, was bereft. He was a 15-year-old boy in a home with no father and mother, there at all times, struggling to become a man. I sometimes caught him crying as he suited up for football. Un­solicited, Max would lick Jay’s hand—he no longer waited for a cut or a scrape. He sensed the wounds were much deeper and weighed so much.

Kyla went off to college. She loved school and made the dean’s list her first semester. But when she stepped off the plane after her sophomore fall semester, she looked like a homeless person. Her hair was matted in dred locks. She had a blanket draped around her. I was shocked, wondering where my beautiful girl had gone.

She didn’t go back to school. Instead, she stayed home sleeping all day, curled into Rex. When he kept jumping off her twin bed, she set up a sleeping mat in our living room. She lay there clinging to him, 15 to 20 hours a day. All that time—as I struggled to get her help, trying to figure out what was wrong—Rex would patiently, lay by her side. I realize now he was keeping her alive, us alive. A few months after coming home, she told us what had happened: At college, she’d been raped.

As Kyla turned to alcohol to numb her pain, our home filled with tension. Jay started smoking pot to calm himself. On better days, he’d take Rex for hikes in the hills above our house and fishing at a stream nearby. Rex leaped at the chance to get out. But he always returned to ­Kyla’s side. These are the signs addictions counselors want you to know about.

Truth be told, Rex was the stabilizing force in our family then. He was the one we turned to when we could not turn to one another.

Around this time, my wife hired a faith healer, a “house healer,” hoping she could rid our home of the negative energy left from the divorce. The woman shooed me out, allowing only Rex to stay inside. She went through the house, clearing it of bad energy lighting frankincense and myrr. After she finished, she said, “You know this is a very special dog, right?”

I nodded.

“He’s here to play a very important role in your family,” she said.

After that, things slowly started to turn around. I was able to get Kyla into a residential treatment facility. We sold our house and moved to a prettier one, with fewer painful memories. Jay went off to college.

And then, suddenly, I was alone. I had loved my family wildly, all of them, and they had left. Except for Rex. He'd followed me from room to room, looking at me as if I’d hung the moon, and NYC sometimes staying so close I nearly tripped over him. When I saw this elegant animal looking at me this way, I started to see it too. Maybe I was worthy of being adored, again.

As time went on, Rex grew old, deaf and blind. His joints became creaky. He grew less perky on our walks. Sometimes I’d look at him and say, “Don’t even think about it.” I felt I’d lost so much that I couldn’t bear to lose him too.

One day, I found him paralyzed in the hind leg quarters. A few days later, he went into congestive heart failure. Jay flew home to be there when we said goodbye. By then, Rex had stopped eating and drinking. All he could do was lie on the floor. So Jay pulled the sleeping mat out again—the one Kyla had used for that terrible year—and lay beside Rex all night. I took a picture: a boy and his dog. A boy and his best friend. A boy and his brother.

When we took him to the vet, I thanked Rex for all he’d done for our family. Pulling him close, Jay said, “Thank you for being there when I felt like no one else was. You were my best friend.”

Then Rex was gone. Yet all along, he had known what we were just learning: Even without him, we were already complete.

Another crate arrived from whence I know not... yes a very special dog arrived a cross between a Pitbull and a Dalmation with one blue eye...