The mornings are the most painful. Every morning he would wake up first before us, walk into the living room and do his morning stretches, then he would come back into the bedroom and check on us to see if we were still sleeping. If so, he would go sit in his chair by the window and wait patiently for us to wake up. I would get up make some coffee and lay back down to write in my dream journal and he would return to the bedroom and lay on my left arm making sure he cuddled as tight as possible.
Once we all got up I would ask him if he’s hungry and he would look at me with such deep eyes and nod with excitement. If he noticed I got distracted on my phone he would be vocal and let me know. He didn’t take any shit. Once he ate his breakfast he loved to go outside and race up the hill with his brother. I would then see this white figure roaming thru the trees and bushes. He stood out so much as he contrasted against the dark colors of the dying shrubs in autumn. Once he found a good spot he ran across the yard, and raced to come back inside with so much excitement.
He rolled on the rug, and then settled in his chair again next to the window. He followed me thru the house and waited for me to sit on the ground so he could come sit on my lap.
Around 4:30 he got hungry or anxious to go for a walk. There was times I got home around 6pm. He yelled at me, with his entire booty moving from left to right at full speed, as he barked and jumped. I would ask him “Are you hungry or do you want to go for a walk”. He would answer walk every time, as he ran towards the front door and towards their leashes. There was no way to ever cut his walk short. He knew the way and if we decided to cut it short, he would anchor his body and not move, keeping pointing ahead with his head. Macho was so assertive in what he wanted and he was my inspiration. He always stood firm in what he wanted. It wasn’t that he wanted more or was spoiled, it’s the least possible thing he deserved. He knew his self worth. He knew time and he knew love.
There was times when I would take longer to feed him because I over slept. So his belly would fill up with gas and he couldn’t eat. Meanwhile Brutus inhaled his plate but Macho just would stand in front of his bowl and stare at his food and glance up at me. Brutus would then begin to look at Macho’s bowl as he normally cleans the bowl after Macho’s done, but when Macho hadn’t touched his bowl, Macho would stand still and move his head from side to side, saying No, you can’t touch my food. Never once did he ever growl or bite Brutus or any other dog. He moved his head and used his voice to communicate like I’ve never seen any other dog do. I would then pick up his untouched bowl and give it to him in a couple hours as then he would eat it.
Nights I worked late in my studio were frequently visited by him telling me it was bedtime. He wouldn’t go to bed without me. I would tell him, “It’s ok Macho, you go ahead, go to bed”, and he would walk into his bedroom and sleep. Then when I finally would go to bed, he would hear me, wake up and followed me into my bed. Making himself comfortable on my left arm again, or under the blankets, cuddled like a little white bunny. I would rather sleep with Macho than any other person. His snores were so soothing that they would put me to sleep and keep others awake. But to me, they were the best background noise as they purr with such waves of peace. His soft coat kept me warm and didn’t sweat like a person would.
Mornings are the hardest, meal times are hard, nights are hard. He was my partner, the love of my life, the one who would make me fall asleep immediately with his peaceful presence, and now he’s my angel.
At times I get briefs memories of the traumatic way he left. His purple tongue and stiff jaw. And I just want to die, scream, and cry. Loosing him was loosing half of my heart.
I felt like I was never single because I had Macho. Now I only have Brutus but Brutus is not like Macho. But together we’ll get through it and hope to see Macho again one day.
Missing my King.