Changes - a Tale of Two "Dogs"

Fall is stereotypically viewed as the season of change. But change hit the Lara household a little earlier this year.

My older son, Jaime, wrapped up high school in June, and started his freshman year at college in August. It was by and large a happy experience, knowing that he ended up in his #1 choice school; he had a somewhat challenging time in high school, and his desire to leave our town and go to a place of his choosing was palpable. We went to the Family Weekend visit at the end of September, and he is really enjoying the experience, in spite of the challenging  academic load. He has longed to be in the company of kids who share his world view, and to be part of an institution that encourages the wide-ranging  exploration that his school espouses; as he now has both of these, he is very happy, despite the challenges of the academic workload.  

That all said, I do miss my older son a lot. Like many first-born children, he had quite a dominating presence at home; no, he was not loud or obnoxious, but he got used to leading discussions at the dinner table, with his younger brother being a bit more recessive. We could have wide-ranging discussions on politics, social issues and faith; we both share a love for photography and films; he also had a sarcastic sense of humor, much to the chagrin of my dear wife. I also miss his guitar-playing and singing and his sporadic but intense creation of abstract art; like his poet-painter mother, he finds creative expression in words (through his songwriting) and the visual arts. He tended to be surly and moody at times, but he was (and is) generally friendly, interesting, smart, loyal and great to be around with---very much like his "Dog" personality (from the year in the Chinese calendar that he was born). In his absence, his brother has become far more engaged, and his naturally fun personality has come out even more, which is great, but there is still a void left by not having his brother around. 

To mark Jaime's (and our entire family's transition) to college, we went for a great two week trip to Germany in the summer. We met up with Jaime in Hamburg after he had spent a week and a half in Transylvania (yes, Transylvania) with his church youth group. But while we were away, our  wonderful "old man", our great family companion of three years, Ranger, died from post-surgery infection. Ranger was a Lab/Shep/Huskie mix of some sort, an older dog we adopted from a local shelter three years ago. He was a truly dignified, very happy looking dog; he was generally very calm and mellow, rarely barked or made any type of sound, was well-behaved and well-loved by everyone he met. He was somewhat anti-social with other dogs (especially the younger rambunctious ones), but that made him a better fit our family's generally private and quiet lifestyle anyway. 

It turns out Ranger may have been older than we thought, and he was certainly much sicker than we knew. He stayed with a friend while we were away; the friend called to say that she had to rush him to the vet one day since he was clearly very ill. The vet's exams showed he had a huge mass in his digestive tract, and many smaller ones throughout his body. We agreed to do one operation, and he seemed to be doing much better after this, but things quickly took a turn for the worse. It was a cold Sunday afternoon in Berlin, just as we were about to enter a church for Sunday mass, just a few days before we were supposed to fly back home, when we decided we should let our Ranger go. My wife was on the phone with the vet, my sons and I absentmindedly lingering around her; we told the boys it was all for the best, and sadly told the vet to go ahead and  put Ranger to sleep. My older boy walked around the church; my younger son stood quietly, fighting back tears, just like his mom. I was too numb to feel anything at that point. It was hard to let go from a distance, but I'd been through that before, with my Dad. 

It was weird to come home without Ranger asleep in his usual spot beside the front door, and it is weird not to have him when I walk through the park, camera in hand. Ranger was very much my shooting "partner", waiting patiently while I stopped to take yet another photo of some tree or leaf or rock. 

And so our house is definitely much changed this fall without our two "Dogs"; I don't think I will ever get used to their absence, and, in many ways, I hope I never do. At least I can look forward to phone calls, texts, and the occasional home visit from my son, and my wife and sons and I can take comfort in the knowledge that we shared many good times with Ranger, and that, in as much as we gave him a good home for the last three years of  his life, he also gave us a much better home as well.