Goodbye, little shadow

After nearly 18 years with our family, we have lost our boy.

I still remember the day we brought Comet home. He was so tired he slept on my lap for hours, and i didn't dare move in case i disturbed him. It was the first, i must say, of MANY nights of pampering.


Oh yes. Comet ruled the roost at our house.

"He can't sleep in the house," my father said that first day. He comes from that generation of Italians who have very clear definitions of human rights and animal rights - and animals, when not being eaten, should be kept outside and out of the way at all times.

But Comet had a way of getting what he wanted. I assure you, he was sleeping in the living room within weeks.

No matter. Dad attempted to regain authority. "He can't sleep in the bedrooms. That's final." Which didn't, of course, stop Comet sneaking up the hallway late at night. His little footsteps would give him away, and one of us would sneak out of bed to bring him into our room under the cover of darkness.


Still Dad persevered. "The bedroom is one thing, but HE CAN'T SLEEP IN THE BED WITH YOU. Beds are for people!! It's filthy!! I don't want to see it!!" All the same, he was up on my bed every night -  keeping me up with his shifting and sniffing and digging into the sheets as though they were mounds of dirt. I vowed not to let him under the covers with me, but he wasn't having any of that. A few minutes after I'd turn the lights out he'd inevitably come up to my head and burrow his way under, right down to my feet sometimes.



Realising his rule had been totally usurped didn't stop Dad from trying, in those early years, to instill some boundaries - man vs dog. These included, but were not limited to:

• No eating in the house (good try)
• No travelling in the car (he ended up with his own bedding in the back seat)
• No feeding him biscuits (he usually enjoyed them dipped in coffee in the mornings)
• No feeding him any human food (he developed a particular fondness for chicken schnitzel and pasta with red sauce)
• No buying expensive dog food (a hunger strike in the late 90s soon took care of that - by the end of it he was refusing to eat anything that wasn't My Dog, the most expensive individual dog meals on the market.)
• No smelly dog beds (he had a variety over the years - sometimes two or three at once)

Over time every single one was thrown out the window.


But even I never thought I'd see the day that a dog would be allowed to sleep - wait for it - in the old man's bed. In a spectacular grand finale/royal flush/final showdown, Dad's last remaining rule was crumbled into oblivion. It was an epic battle, but in the end Comet's domination was simply too much.

Yes, he became the most pampered (read: spoilt) house dog that ever was - i do believe we smothered him in love. And he loved us in return. He never left our side, wherever we were, and we called him our little shadow because ultimately, he never wanted to be away from us. He couldn't settle down to sleep unless one of us was sitting in the same room with him. He didn't want to eat unless we were eating too. If we had to go out, he was perfectly happy to get in the car with us - every morning from the time i was 12 to the time i was 18 he sat in the back seat while my mum dropped my brother and I off at school or at the bus stop. At Christmas we wrapped presents (dog food and schmackos) for him, so he could open them with us.



He had quite the personality. His whole life he hated baths. It was a battle to clean him. He hated seeing the suitcases come out because he knew it meant we were going on holiday without him. He was lazy - certainly not one of those dogs who would chase a ball, let alone bring one back for you. He did love leisurely walks around the block though (leisurely because we had to stop at every tree and telegraph pole so he could squirt something out - by the end of the walk he had nothing left to give but he insisted on lifting his leg anyway, a symbolic gesture of his authority). And he loved being held like a baby in our arms. He had his favourite places to sit - by the screen door at the front of the house, and in the window of my parents room, where it was most sunny and warm. If he WASN'T in the car with us, both those spots were excellent for keeping watch for when we came home - as soon as he spotted us coming down the driveway, he'd race down the hall to back door, tail wagging, waiting for us to come in a scoop him up and coo over how we'd missed him. Later in life he rather enjoyed sleeping on whatever pile of towels or dirty clothes had been left on the floor of the bathroom. If we knew we'd be gone for several hours, we'd leave the radio or the TV on for him so there were always sounds to keep him company - we hated to think of him lonely and waiting in the dark for us to come home. At night, he'd sit with my mother on her reclining chair until she went to bed, or would follow me as i pottered around and around the house listening to music. When my parents inherited two big dogs (who ARE kept outside), he regularly made his disdain for them clear by walking down to where they sat and calmly peeing in their faces.


I'm sure he thought he was human.


I know this doesn't mean very much to anyone else. But it meant the world to us. He was our family, our baby, our spoilt little brat, and we'll never forget him, or how loyal he was to each and every one of us. My mother says she can still hear him walking around the house - so used to that sound as she is.



If you had asked me, that night, all those years ago, that the dog in my lap would still be around when i got married, i would have laughed. And yet it happened! And even though he was old, and we knew his time was coming, still it's no easy thing to say goodbye after nearly two decades of loving him so much. We'll none of us forget him. RIP.