Otis and I walked in the vet’s office on Monday for his (almost) one year visit. It had been 11 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days since he came to live with us. We checked in at the desk and sat down in the waiting room. Otis’s legs were shaking and he was nervously pacing, but he wasn’t so nervous that he couldn’t do periodic squirrel checks from the glass door. Otis likes the familiar. The routine. The usual. He’s a man who prefers to stay within the chalk lines of ordinary, standard, and regimented. Vet visits aren’t something we do frequently enough to qualify for that list. 

A young lady came in after we were seated. It was obvious she’d been crying. She told the receptionist she was there to sit with her dog. When she said his name, her voice cracked and the silent crying started. The kind that wants to come out in wails, but just releases itself in shaking instead. I wasn’t sure of the circumstances, but I thought it was likely an end of life situation. I wanted to hug her. I recognized that hurt on her face. I remembered that grief. I looked over at Otis and thought how much joy he’d brought me. So much laughter and so much love. But, I knew when I took him as my own, there would be another day in the future when I would be heartbroken over him. It was a stipulation I’d agreed to on the front end- just like the poor girl at the counter. It was then I remember thinking- well, at least, he’s young and I won’t have to worry about that for a long, long time. 

You know the story. Otis and I first crossed paths as I was driving home, one October night in 2022. He walked across the road in front of my car- obviously lost and out of place- and, from that point, I was never able to get him off of my mind. On February 17, 2023, he was finally captured and he came to live with us when he was released from the vet on the 18th. The 18th of this month was going to be a BIG day at the Miller house. There would be a pup cup- maybe a McDonald’s cheeseburger. A trip to the country to chase squirrels. All the things Otis loved to do to celebrate a year with him. Instead, I’m sitting here doing what I do when I lose something precious. I’m trying to process my grief through writing, because I lost my good boy yesterday. He went outside to play with several neighborhood dogs in our yard and was hit by someone who sped off. He died in my arms on the way to the vet. Two days after I’d empathized with the young lady at the counter, we were walking through the same doors with his lifeless body. 

Otis’s life story was a mystery. We’re not sure how he ended up on the streets. He had so many little quirks. We’re not sure if he was dumped on the streets because he had so many quirks or if he had so many quirks because he was dumped on the streets. There were a couple of months devoted to just forming a bond with him so he wouldn’t run off and that required that he and I be attached by a leash at all times. To say we bonded would be the understatement of all of history. We tried the underground fence after bonding. We moved flags and rearranged flags and moved flags again, but a man’s man like Otis wouldn’t be reined in by a few flags and electricity. For the first few months, it seemed like we’d solve one problem and another would be created. We spent approximately a quarter of a million dollars and 5,421 manpower hours trying to find the right solutions for him. We were always looking for a balance between keeping him safe and letting him be happy being the kind of high-energy hunting dog he was- we decided life behind a fence would be misery for him. 

After a couple of months of domestication training, he worked his way from the yard/garage into our house with the only casualties being a few throw pillows, some socks, 3 dog beds, a Christmas gift- well, you get the idea. Eventually, he learned the rules of the house and abided by them most of the time. But, in his heart, Otis was a man of the great outdoors, so his bed was next to the glass backdoor where he could be apprised of any and all movement of any kind. A squirrel, a cat, a leaf, a piece of paper, another dog- all would call for his immediate action as he would start singing verses of his hound dog songs signaling I needed to open the door at once before he segued into the chorus. He just wanted to hunt. All. Day. Long. Davis was walking him three times a day and taking him to the country 2-3 times a week to let him run and explore and chase every living thing. He chased all manner of moving things and, when he was feeling especially frisky, sadly, he’d chase a car or 4-wheeler which led to his untimely end on our quiet, little street. 

Heartbroken is the only word to describe what we are- Ruby, Davis, me. I know there are people with far bigger problems and have experienced losses that are so infinitely deeper than this, but the heart grieves for what it loves and, at the moment, mine is grieving for a dog it loved named Otis. Who stole my heart on a busy road on a dark October night. Since he came here, I was his person. The one he looked for when he needed reassurance and comfort. As women, we like to mother and make things better for the one who needs extra help. When someone needs a little more support to get along, it brings to the surface all those nurturing instincts God gave us. Otis had awakened all of that in me. I saw in him something so sweet and so very gentle and yet so hurt and so broken. It was my goal to make him know what love and happiness were all about. And for 11 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days, I did my very best to love him in a way that would make him forget everything that came before us. Otis finally knew what it was to feel safe and loved and secure and so very wanted. I just wish he’d had more time to enjoy those things. Safety, love, security, belonging. He needed so much more than 11 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days to feel all those good things he deserved. 

Today has been hard. I so dreaded getting out of bed knowing I wouldn’t find him in any of those places where he should be. There are reminders of him in every corner of our house. Ruby is looking for him outside and smelling where he was last. And whenever she hears my crying grow audible, her little feet come clicking down the hall headed to where I am. She sits down quietly next to me and puts her paw on my arm or my leg. No words are needed. She can’t offer those. She’s just letting me know she knows how I feel because she’s feeling it, too. What loyal and devoted friends, we have in our dogs. Ruby has brought so much joy to our home in her 5 years here. I know the bill for loving her will come due one day, too. Please, let it be a long, long time from now. Such a sweet return but so high a price. It has me asking if I’ll ever do it again. 

Yesterday morning, instead of speaking a quick good morning to my Otis with a usual rub under the chin, I knelt on his bed, put my elbows down next to him, and lingered there with belly rubs and baby talk. Naturally, I have some regrets, but the way he was greeted to meet his very last day isn’t one of them. 

If I live to be 110, I will never stop missing a dog named Otis. 

Rest easy, my good, good boy. 

JONI 

Thank you to Dr. Misty McNeil who took care of Otis when he was brought in off the streets- all the way through Monday. Yesterday, she simply took care of me when there was nothing more to be done for him. She was always so attentive and loving to Otis and wanted to help me find solutions for some of our challenges. You know you have a first-class vet when they get on the floor and cry right along with you. That’s not stuff they learn in school. That comes from the heart. I will always remember her for that. 

Thank you to Amber Robinson who caught Otis and made it possible for him to know so much love and fun before he lived out his short days. Because of him, she and I were brought together in friendship. She was there in the beginning and the middle and she was there at the sad end. I don’t know how rescue people like her do what they do- putting mistreated animals above their emotional comfort by allowing themselves to experience grief over and over and over again. She’s been so supportive in wanting to help me help Otis. What a sweet parting gift for Otis to leave his person- a beautiful friend.