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Diesel

First and Last

By Bri DeanPublished about a year ago 8 min read
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My dad rode along with me to pick out and pick up my first pet as an adult.  I had just graduated college and signed a lease to live in my first apartment off campus.  I was thrilled, terrified, excited, ecstatic...  You name it, I felt it all.  I decided that I wanted a furry companion to travel with me through this new phase of my life.  Weeks prior, I had scoured the spotty internet looking for something to jump out at me.  Something that said:  "Bri, this is EXACTLY what you need in your life!"  To my surprise, I found it on Craigslist.  The ad showed 7 white puppies in Cleveland, Ohio.  Six of the puppies were girls and also had a bunch of tiny black spots all over them.  But, one, the boy, was completely white. They called him Casper.  I was the first to call and the first to schedule a time to look, so I got the pick of the litter.  

It was about a three hour drive, but I knew I had to go and hopefully, maybe, meet my new roommate.  As we drove, my dad and I chatted about so many things.  My stomach was in knots as the butterflies tore apart my insides.  The thought of smooshing my face against puppy faces, smelling puppy breath, sleepy little frito feet, was pure bliss.  I had patiently waited through 5 years of college.  It was time.  I needed a dog.  

We pulled up to a run down house in a rather dreary neighborhood.  Nothing about it looked like I would be leaving as a changed person, that's for sure.  We walked up to the porch and could see inside the screen door.  Inside there was a playpen with puppies pouncing.  A woman stood in the kitchen behind them, a cigarette in her mouth and the phone to her ear.  She motioned for us to come in and pointed to the obvious guests of honor.  I immediately hurdled the barrier and sat down on the floor.  I became an instant slobbery mess and almost felt like Cruella for a minute.

Once she hung up the phone, she explained that they were dalmatian puppies and that the boy was actually a "spotless dalmatian".  I didn't really care what breed they were, they were cute, specifically, he was cute.  It did not take long for me to know which one was mine.  I paid the lady and dad and I headed back to the car with a very emaciated, spotless dalmatian.  

I drove and dad rode shotgun and ended up wearing the puppy like a scarf around the back of his neck most of the ride.  Apparently something about dad made him feel warm and safe.  So, he snoozed.  I stopped at Walmart and ran in to grab a kennel, a bed and some puppy food.  Dad stayed outside with the pup.  Looking back, this must be where their amazing bond started.  Dad beamed from ear to ear, like I had presented him with his first grandchild.  I named him Diesel, with dad's blessing.  He wanted it to be a tough name.  Something that would sound hard and manly.  A name that makes the bad guys think again when I'm walking him late at night.  He had a name that he definitely had to grow into. 

Diesel and I had so many adventures.  He was there through so much good and some bad too.  He was my constant through every shake up, make up, and break up.  He was the best cuddler and always wanted to be wherever I was.  So much so, that he would sit and cry outside of the shower when I closed the curtain.  Until...he learned how to flop in there too.  We had so much fun.  We had so much love for each other.  And we grew up together. 

Diesel met both of my daughters when I became a mom (to humans).  He will always be my first though. He also had 5 dog siblings throughout his life too.  He absolutely lived for the days we went to visit my dad, Papa.  When we hit the turn on his road, Diesel would start whining and jumping.  When he was small, it wasn't so bad.  But, Diesel grew to be an 80 pound adult dog.  The "spotless dalmatian" description didn't even exist.  There really is no such thing.  Diesel did have spots, they just didn't show until he was wet.  He would sunburn easily, being an all white dog, or pink as he often looked.  He grew to resemble a Dogo Argentino or an American Bulldog.  So, he definitely blossomed into the tough dog that grandpa hoped for.  He was so handsome.

Diesel would go to Papa's for weekends.  They would go on playdates to the park or the lake.  My dad and Diesel had an amazing bond.  It was so cute to watch throughout the years.  But, in 2017, my dad took a trip to Arizona to see his high school best friend.  In reality, this was a trip that they both knew would probably be the last.  My dad had stage 4 esophageal cancer.  We were on borrowed time then, but didn't know it.  Denial kept us pretty naive to be honest.  While in Arizona, my dad's best friend called me.  I could tell by the shakiness of his voice, that things got bad.  He said that my dad felt like he was dying and that they had called hospice to their house.  Just like that, my world went into overdrive.  I drove my kids to my mom's house, and sped to Detroit airport.  Once there, I hysterically searched for the quickest ticket to Arizona.  After, what seemed like forever, I made it.  I walked into the house where my dad was resting and was hit with such shock.  My dad was skin and bones.  He was dying, there was no question.  It was staring me directly in the eyes.  

When he would wake up, we would chat a little bit, about whatever he chose.  One thing that he talked about often was how he wished that Diesel could be there lying next to him.  It broke my heart, as that wasn't something I could pull together.  Diesel, along with his five furry siblings, were back in Ohio, being cared for by my mom also.  But, we sat and shared memories and looked at pictures on my phone of this white dog that stole our hearts twelve years prior.  

My dad was very frail and so flying back to Ohio wasn't an option.  But, he really wanted to die at home, and see his mom, my grandma, before passing.  After a lot of uncertainty, I just took a leap of faith and booked a medical transport vehicle to drive us from Arizona to Ohio, in hopes of making it back in time for him to be with our whole family in his passing.  Only one person could ride along with my dad in the medical transport.  He picked me.  My other sisters headed home by flight and hoped that we would all meet up in about a day or so, in Ohio.  I sat in that van and in my head, the goal was Ohio and we were going to make it.  I was so fixated on the final destination and the need to make it there, that I completely missed the signs that it just wasn't going to happen that way.  Lying in the back, two drivers up front and me quickly grabbing his hand, my dad took his last breath on a Saturday in New Mexico.  

I zombied through life once I got back to Ohio.  I went through my dad's things alone.  ALONE.  My heart was so badly damaged, I felt like it was numb.  I would go home at the end of the day, still bruised from the mental toll that had been taken while trying to get my dad's life accumulations dispersed, disposed of or donated.  Those first two weeks after his death were a blur.  Until, one day at home, I heard a loud bang.  I ran out into the hallway and Diesel had fallen down the stairs.  I ran down and helped him back up.  He had turned into a slower old man, 84 in dog years to be exact.  He seemed okay.  He went in and lied down on his bed and I thought nothing of it.  Later that evening, I noticed that Diesel hadn't moved in awhile.  His abdomen seemed distended and I immediately panicked.  I called the emergency Vet and loaded him up.  I talked to him the whole way there, as he lied in the back of my car.  The Vet came out and wheeled him inside the building.  He examined Diesel and said that his abdomen was most likely filled with blood.  There didn't seem to be anything positive coming out of his mouth.  Diesel was, most likely, too old to be able to handle lifesaving surgery.  I also didn't want to put him through something, if it wasn't going to help him.  He didn't need me adding more pain to his last day.  The Vet left the room and I kissed and hugged Diesel like it was the first day that I met him.  His eyes were fixated on mine and I think he knew that I loved him more than any word that I could muster up.  Before the doctor came in, I whispered for Diesel to go be with Papa.  "He needs you now."  

That was such a painful two weeks.  But, in my heartache, I felt that Diesel wanted to go and be with my dad.  They were just meeting back up and clearly it was meant to be that way.  It gave me comfort and helped me feel more at ease knowing they were together.  The memories, I have 1000's, with both of them.  But, I will always remember the day they met for the first time and the day that I realized that they were together again.

grandparents
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About the Creator

Bri Dean

JStart

Reader insights

Outstanding

Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

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  1. Heartfelt and relatable

    The story invoked strong personal emotions

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