Eulogy For Osito

Saying Goodbye and Thank You

The time had come to say goodbye to another member of our Lakeside family. Our beloved Oso (Bear in English), akaOsito(Bear Cubin English) had been diagnosed with cancer and it was “only a matter of time” as the saying goes in such situations.

“But how much time?” Juan and I wanted to know.

“He’ll let you know,” our veterinarian told us.

We had decided that when our dogs and cats had reached this point, we would be there for them so that they would not suffer until the moment of death. We would have our veterinarian ease their transition with first a tranquilizer to put them into a deep sleep, and then an injection that would let them rest forever.

And we would have this done in our home with us there with them, the place where they were most comfortable.

Having served as a clergyperson for nearly 40 years, with a few of those years working as a hospital chaplain, I wished many times that such an option could have been provided for humans.

Why, indeed, should any living being suffer when it is time to be released?

Like all our other animals (nine dogs in our 18 years as a couple), Osito had been a so-called “street dog,” when he came into our lives. Our two cats had also first lived on the streets.

Specifically, Juan found Osito in Jocotepec when he was out for a walk in the park with a couple of our other dogs. He first saw him in the afternoon, a mere pup tied to a bunch of tall grass and weeds near a small creek that drained into the lake.

As Juan wrote shortly after finding the pup on May 19, 2014:

“My first thought was that he was left there while his owner somehow would be able to come back and take him home. I tried to get closer, but it was impossible for me to go through because of a whole bunch of spiny branches blocking any possible way to get to where the dog was. Then I realized he was in a private area. It looked like a corral where there were some cows. I did not want legal trouble for breaking into private property, so decided to go back home with my dogs”

“But something called guilt kept ringing like a bell deep in my head, so I decided to go back and do something for the doggie…I reported the problem to a cop, and he promised me he would check on the baby and either set him free or follow up the case”

“Then it started raining until late at night”

“I was still feeling guilty and something deep in my heart was telling me that the cop…well!”

“About 1:00 am, and following what my heart told me was the right thing to do, I went back to the spot with a flashlight. I was all by myself. …The puppy was still there, tied up, surrounded by the flooding water from the rain. He was trying to do his best to survive on top of a small pile of rocks.

“I didn’t think twice and jumped into the muddy water, grabbed the scissors I had in my pocket and cut the rope to set him free…I could feel the bites of whatever living creatures and insects were in the water…I also got hurt by some thorns”

“I grabbed the baby puppy and started crying with all these mixed emotions. I was pissed off at the cruelty that he had been exposed to. But I was happy to have been able to listen to my heart and to have arrived just in time to save his life and to watch how this little thing started licking all over my face as a sign of his gratitude toward me.”

And so, Juan woke me up to meet the puppy, told me the story, and had me cut the last piece of rope that was around the poor thing’s neck. He was fed and had water, cleaned up, and given a comfortable bed.

I asked Juan what we would name him (neither one of us thought for a second that we wouldn’t welcome into our family).

“He looks like a little bear!” Juan said,

“Oso means bear, right?” I asked.

“And Osito means bear cub.”

“He does look like a teddy bear!” I said.

“Did you notice his right ear?” Juan asked. “It’s been sliced, as if someone had tortured him!”

“How could anybody be so cruel?”

“And then tie him up to drown?”

Sadly, Osito was among so very many dogs and cats and other animals of Lake Chapala who are left to die.

You and I see them every day, don’t we? If you are a walker, you really know what I mean! They follow us. Or they stare vacantly or hopefully at us as we pass. Indeed, it is heartbreaking to see them.

Truly, I never expected to have so many animals with whom to share a home. And each one brings challenges. Each one has a story. Each one has a personality.

Osito, it seems, was a Pitbull-Chow Chow mix. Tan in color. In other words, small but feisty, loyal to his family, but not overly friendly to outsiders. And a loner. Very much a loner. He preferred sleeping away from the other animals in our house. This was true of his eating habits as well. And his needing to be off by himself when he and the other dogs went out for a walk. He would be away for a number of minutes but would always come running back when we called for him or whistled.

He had a unique walk/run about him, because his legs all seemed to work independently of each other. As if he were always trying out a pair of high heels for the first time. Watching him when he moved was indeed quite endearing. He just did not move the way the other dogs did. Perhaps it could appear as a physical challenge, but I doubt for an instant that Osito ever thought of it as such a thing. He was just Osito!

And what a lover!

A lover to Juan and me, that is. His dark eyes always stared right at us, as if to tell us that he was there for us, and so wasn’t it time for us to give him a treat? Of course, all dogs have that look, but Osito’s was particularly intense. His eyes reminded me of chocolate chips. So, I nicknamed him “Chocolate Chip Cookie Man.” He could, indeed, melt your heart and persuade you to give him the moon.

And what a majordomo of house and family. He was always the first dog up in the morning, and ready to announce the start of the day for the rest of us. With a bark that also was his way of proclaiming, “Hey, when’s our walk? And when is breakfast?”

And when other puppies came into our lives, Osito took on the role of a wise uncle. Correcting them with a bark if they got a little too rambunctious. He was, in some ways, the curmudgeon of the Rivera-Beaudreau family. Or maybe an adviser; a Merlin figure.

A decade went by. During that time, we had to say goodbye to our beloved Lacy, a Rhodesian Ridgeback Mix who we had adopted from a shelter in Florida and brought with us to Mexico in 2012. She lived to her eleventh year.

And two years ago, we welcomed our energetic Papi, a black Dachsador (Dachshund and Labrador Retriever mix). That brought our number of dogs back to seven.

Then Osito got sick, and it became “only a matter of time.”

The time went on and on, but despite his weight loss, he kept eating incredible amounts of food, and drinking lots of water. And he still went with the rest of our dogs when it was time for their walks. He kept going! His staring into our eyes was intense as ever, making us somehow feel that he would outlive the odds; that he would outlive the rest of us!

But then his stares became more and more vacant. He started hesitating in his actions, as if deciding what to do, or even where he was. And he got thinner and thinner.

So, the time to say goodbye to him approached….

But only three days before Osito was released from a life that was no longer tenable—while he was on a walk with the other dogs—a little lost puppy came running from its hiding place under a car, and joined the family, as if she had been a long-lost member of it. A mere pup, indeed, looking surprisingly like Osito’s twin!

Right to our front gate she came, demanding to be let in.

Only three days before we had to say goodbye and thank you to our sweet Teddy Bear Osito!

It was, in fact, on the last morning of his life, that Osito was shakily taking some food from my right hand at the same time that our new doggie who we named Olivia (“Oli”) was eagerly taking food from my left hand.

And then I saw it! They looked at each other! With such intensity! Only for an instant, but in that moment they both seemed to know: it was time for one life to end, and another to begin. The torch had passed from one to the other.

In my nearly 80 years of life, I have witnessed few such moments of grandeur.

And even when Osito breathed his last that day, Juan and I knew that he had brought untold joy not just to us and our extended animal family, but to creation itself.

Goodbye, dear friend Osito, and thank you!