Butter Bear, Booter Scooter, Butter butt, Butt Butt, Buttercup...so many names for one sweet girl. Officially she was our Chesapeake Bayside Buttercup and she came home to us over 14 years ago this past April. She was born February 22, 1998. She changed all of our lives forever and for the better.
She was neurotic and clingy and loving and spirited. Silly. Bouncy. Sweet. Always sweet. I remember bringing her home from Heartland Retrievers and stopping along the way, somewhere 1/2 way between here and Winchester and watching her trip over her own feet in the grass. She was all soft furriness, clumsiness and belly. Oh how her little belly felt like velvet. I remember Hung and I both rubbing it for hours on end.
There was potty training. Failed crate training...about 2 nights in, I couldn't handle it and I thought we'll just let her sleep by the bed. 10 minutes after that brilliant decision she was in the bed, and in the bed she stayed until a year or so ago. PUPPY SCHOOL. She graduated but I think they must have graded her on a curve. Old Towne School for Dogs...gave her manners and was one of the best investments we made in our Butter bear.
She LOVED people. Dogs she could take or leave. She had one canine BFF, Duffy, but no others. A few she would tolerate, most she wanted to kill. Well, at least after the dog park incident with the very large, badly behaved dog (I blame the owners not the pup) who tried to kill her. We understood her apprehension henceforth and never pushed her to socialize with other pups.
She was truly irresistible. No matter how much we told people "turn your back.... avoid eye contact..... you have to ignore her..." very few could do it successfully. Everyone took one look at her face and began sweet talking and petting her. She was totally irresistible.
People always think I am crazy when I say it, but she smelled like fresh popped popcorn. Her name preceded this revelation, but made it all the more fitting. I will never smell popcorn without thinking of her. I loved her fur, especially her ears. Softest ears EVER. Did I mention the velvet?
She was there every step of the way for the last 14 years. She was always strong and eager and willing. We had to spell the word walk. W-A-L-K. Then she learned to spell. She was a really smart girl. She was so chipper and cute that many underestimated her intelligence. She was a quick study and very bright. So intuitive. We learned to just whisper or say it out of ear shot. Still as soon as we started putting on our shoes she would get all kinds of excited. Don't even talk about going on a road trip. She would go crazy. Gramma's was a favorite destination, for there she would swim and retrieve for hours. More than once we had to force her to stop and rest, fearing if we didn't her heart would burst.
She was here for it all. Our first house. Our first pregnancy and our second. Both challenging. I cried into her fur more than once and she was always there to comfort. One of the hardest things about these last few weeks has been knowing that in her heart she wanted to comfort us and protect us from this pain, even in her last days. She hung on for us. It became obvious she was ready.
She was here for Ella's homecoming, Max's homecoming, countless birthdays, crab fests and parties, Christmas after Christmas. Never did I come in this house that she wasn't waiting eagerly at the mud room door. She was always in her element with crowds of people to love her. She would make the rounds until everyone departed and then collapse in a puddle on the floor. All loved out!
Never did a crumb hit the floor for more than a second. Eternally hopeful every single morning as we made sandwiches or in the evenings as kids noshed on nuggets...her mind racing with the thought of a dropped treasure. One of the hardest things now is picking up food off the floor that we know our beloved Butter vacuum would have loved to take care of for us.
She was endlessly curious and also patient and loving with our children and those of others. She asked so little and gave so much. I brought home Ella's newborn blanket to introduce her to the scent of Ella before we brought Ella home. She was our first baby girl and we wanted her to know about her sister, who would change her canine life forever. Ella would nap in her crib and Butter would scoot herself under her crib and wait for her to wake up.
It is going to take time for me to heal. A huge chunk of my heart seemingly left my core when she passed. I feel such a mix of emotions. Gratitude to the doctors who helped us today to make sure we were doing the right thing and that she was comfortable and safe. Gratitude that we enjoyed 14 full years with her. Her illness came quickly and fiercely, and though so sad, I am grateful she didn't linger. Relief that she is at peace. Finally. That she is free from all of the weight of the world.
Crushing sadness. This has surprised me. I knew it would be hard. I was wholly unprepared for how hard it would be. So many memories. 14 years is a long time yet at the same time, 100 years would not have been enough for me. All of the moments of our lives over the past 14 years are so closely woven into her life.
As I picked up her blankets to wash, and threw out her medicines, and put away her doggie dishes for the last time, my heart broke. I buried my face in her blanket to smell her one last time and that did me in for a little bit. Our family, endlessly richer for having had her in our lives, will forever be changed without her here. No more Butter bear waiting at the door as we come in through the garage. No more sitting, head downcast, when she knew we were leaving. No more jumping like Tigger...bounce bounce bounce....when someone she loved was at the door. No more barking like a mad woman when walkers and joggers went by HER house. The nerve of those humans. On her territory. No more tripping over her as she tried her best to stay as close to my feet as humanly possible.
There is a hole in our day to day lives and routines that will not soon or easily, or perhaps ever, be fully filled. Her sweet face won't look out that office window hoping against hope that we are not really loading up in the car and leaving, maybe we are just out there grabbing something from the car and we'll be right back.
She truly gave us everything she had in her. Every moment of every day. She gave. She asked for so little. All she wanted, all she needed, was love. She was the pure embodiment of love. Endless, deep, unconditional, forgiving. Terminal love.
Thank you, Butter, for letting us be your human family. We will always love you and we will never forget all you have given us. Sweet dreams. I hope you find endless frisbees and treats up there in doggie heaven. Tears will roll for a while here, but we wouldn't have it any other way. As I pet her sweet ears and hugged her body all that came out of my mouth was "thank you. thank you. thank you." All of these years, I thought we were taking care of her, when really she was taking care of us.
