Making memories with my best man

“I am asking you to recall the days where you made a memory. You are going to be surprised by how few there are. We allow ourselves to get into the rut of a daily routine where each day is just like the days before and the ones to follow…”

– Professor Bill Horne

Ladies and gentlemen, certain days and certain memories can evoke a host of emotions. These can cascade over us without warning.

But like our good friend Professor Horne wrote just before his passing, in the freest country of the whole world, we seem to be spending our lives without living them.

It’s sad, but often very true.

This past week, I’ve experienced a plethora of emotions brought about by the memories of days where I made a memory – thanks to my best man. My best man had four legs and a tail. My lovely wife, Helen, gave him the name Bogey, after her favorite actor, Humphrey Bogart. Naturally, we named our next dog Bacall.

Bogey lived with us in Georgia and North Carolina, as well as several places in Ohio, and traveled through Florida, Kentucky, Tennessee, Alabama and West Virginia. He waded in creeks and swam in the Gulf of Mexico.

He was a very good dog – my brother Grant dubbed him the “epitome of man’s best friend.”

That he was, indeed.

As I visited with him on the “day which will live in infamy,” I recalled several days where I made a memory with Bogey.

We gave him so many walks, and Bogey loved taking walks, especially what we dubbed “adventure walks.” These were walks where we’d be out for perhaps an hour or more. We crawled under fences, waded through creeks, jumped over ditches. He’d chase a deer, rabbit or cat if given the opportunity. Back in the day, we’d race from time to time. Bogey always won. One time in Georgia, Bogey spotted a squirrel and I dropped the leash and said, “Whaddya see? Whaddya see?!?” Bogey chased that squirrel up a tree, prancing, hopping and barking along the way, and jumped up against the tree and let out a mighty, “Woo! Woo! Woo!!!!”

As I smiled during our visit, another fond memory came rushing back.

It was a day where Helen and I took Bogey for another “adventure walk,” this time in Cedar Key, Florida. As we strolled along a white sandy beach, Helen was wearing a beautiful white dress and I was sporting a navy blue suit. Like Bogey, neither one of us had shoes on. As we paused for a few moments in time, Bogey stood just a few feet off to the side as Helen and I exchanged vows as the sun was setting on that warm summer night more than a dozen years ago.

Yes, Bogey was my best man, and during our visit, I thanked him once again for agreeing to the role. I know he enjoyed that day, too.

As the years progressed, Bogey lost a step or two, but he wasn’t the only one.

More memories came flooding back.

It was a Saturday in early December a few years ago and Helen and I decided to set up and decorate our Christmas tree. The day before, Bogey hadn’t been feeling well and I had taken him to the vet. After some bloodwork and a check-up, Bogey and I left the vet’s office and we decided to drive around Highland County for a while. That was a lot of fun. We drove miles and miles over winding country roads and Bogey would look out the window and really seemed to enjoy the ride. “Whaddya see, Bogey,” I asked.

But my best man seemed even happier the next day.

Moments after Helen and I finished setting up our Christmas tree on that Saturday afternoon, Bogey came out and reclined in front of the tree. I decided to grab my camera and took a few photos of Bogey in front of our decorated tree. He posed for the photos.

Just a couple of days later, on a cloudy, chilly morning, Bogey decided he was up for an “adventure walk.” For nearly an hour, we walked all over the place. Eventually, I had to put an end to the adventure and bring him in so I could get ready for work. About 10 yards or so before we reached the back door, Bogey stopped. For several minutes, he looked around. Finally, he looked over toward our weeping willow tree, smiled for a few fleeting moments, then proceeded to walk through the back door.

The following day, Wednesday, Dec. 7, 2011, I could tell Bogey was having another one of those bad days. He didn’t eat, didn’t want to take a walk and just wanted to lounge in the kitchen. When I was ready to go to work, I gave Bogey his pill, petted him for a minute or so, kissed him on the head and told him, “See you tonight, Bogey. Hope you feel better, my good boy. We love you.” He seemed to give a deep sigh.

As I visited with my best man today, a tear ran down my cheek – OK, a few tears – as another memory returned.

At 6:15 p.m. on Dec. 7 four years ago, I got a call from Helen. She was sobbing. My heart sank. I asked her what was wrong, but I already knew.

That evening, we took Bogey out for the last time.

As I wipe a tear from my eye as I sit beside his grave near that weeping willow, I read the tribute column I wrote to my best man, along with the poem called “The Rainbow Bridge:”

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable. All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.

The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together...

I firmly believe that good dogs go to Heaven, and that my best man is there right now, running, playing, watching over us and waiting for us.

But I still miss him, and I’ll hug Bacall, Damselle and Dailey an extra time tonight.

Whaddya see, Bogey? Whaddya see?

Steve Roush is a vice president of an international media company and a columnist and contributing writer for The Highland County Press. He can be reached by email at roush_steve@msn.com.