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REMEMBERING
BONSAI
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My Bonsai
by Cindy
Sherwood
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The first time we met Bonsai, he was tucked into Doc’s arms like a little friendly gremlin, and I firmly believe that if I had not asked to hold him, it is where he would have spent the last 10 years.
It was a typical Saturday visit to get Maxx, our 5-year old Boston Terrier, and Otto, our oversized Uber-Pug, check–ups and shots. We always scheduled to be the last appointment of the day so we could chat with Doc and Loree and catch up.
This visit was like most with easy conversation, lots of laughs and a general good time. W e talked about our dogs, about other peoples dogs, about rescue dogs and breeds. |
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We talked about our
health, their health
and the weather.
Just as the
conversation was
winding down Doc got
a wicked little grin
and a twinkle in his
eye as he told us we
had to see
something. He
took off for the
back and popped back
into the hallway, in
his arms was the
tiniest little
bundle of fur I had
ever seen.
It was Bonsai.
Loree had picked him
up through rescue, a
stray found on the
streets of Modesto
and it was clear Doc
was in love. I
listened as Loree
told me the story of
how she’d picked him
up, matted and so
horribly under
weight that he felt
like a fragile bird
in her hands.
We all marveled at
how he could have
survived on the
streets so small and
deaf. I
reached out to pet
him, he pulled his
little smushed up
face out of the
crook of Doc’s arm,
looked at me, and I
knew I had to hold
him.
I took him from Doc
and he immediately
snuggled up under my
long hair, into my
neck and snorted.
In that instant, I
fell in love, and so
began weeks of
negotiation,
manipulation and
begging. First, I
had to convince my
husband that Bonsai
belonged with us. I
began on our way
home that day.
“Wasn’t he cute? Did
you see those eyes,
they are sparkling
buttons of wonder!
The tongue Oh My God
the tongue, did you
see how it peeks out
from the side of his
mouth. You know he
is so small he is
really only half a
dog, he wouldn’t
really count as a
whole new dog!”
My praise of all
things Bonsai was
relentless and
within days, Rob had
surrendered with a
sigh.
“You know I can’t
say no to you.”
It was all I needed
to hear, I was on
the phone to Loree
within the hour.
However, if Rob had
been hesitant, Doc
was downright
stubborn. He loved
Bonsai. Loree had
snuck Bonsai into
Doc’s hospital room,
at the University of
San Francisco, after
his heart surgery
where Bonsai had
curled up on his
chest and slept
keeping Doc calm and
happy. They were
fast friends; Doc
held him endlessly,
tucked him inside
his shirt and
carried on with
business. He was
non-too anxious to
let him go.
Bonsai had not been
neutered yet so was
not available for
adoption and Doc, he
liked it that way.
I called and asked;
I stopped by and
begged. I played on
Doc’s compassion,
saying I wanted
Bonsai before I had
to have a breast
biopsy so he could
comfort me as he had
comforted him.
I was shameless in
my quest to bring
Bonsai home.
Weeks went by before
my nagging, Loree’s
gentle nudges and
Doc’s love of Rob
and I won out. He
neutered Bonsai and
we brought him home
with the
understanding that
he would live with
us but that Doc and
I really co-owned
him.
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Bonsai, my Bonsai
came home. Three
pounds of soft silky
fun, squashed up
nose, swished up
tail, tongue hanging
out the side of his
mouth, bundle of
energy. He came
home and quickly
established himself
as king and master
of the house. Maxx
and Otto, who both
out weighted him by
at least 25 pounds,
would patiently sit
and let Bonsai chew
at their lips, bite
at their noses and
in one memorable
instance chomp down
on a particular
private part, all in
the name of getting
their attention. He
tore through the
house like a cat
drunk on catnip
weaving in-between
furniture, up onto
the back of the
couch and down again
when he was
excited. He wooed,
a strange cross
between a howl and
doggy speak, when he
wanted treats, and
he would walk in
front of you, stop
abruptly, sit down
and glance back over
his shoulder, as if
saying “WHAT?” when
he wanted to be
picked up.
If I had to pick one
word to describe our
little guy, it would
have to be snotty.
There was regal in
him to be sure. He
would have been
happy if his tiny
little paws never
touched the ground
again, but his
attitude was more of
the haughty, too
good for you
variety. If you
were visiting and
Bonsai came by for a
pet you were
something special.
If he wanted to be
on your lap, you had
better feel honored
or the next time you
might not be so
lucky. We would
tell people he was
shy but the truth
was he was a little
snot and we loved
him with all our
hearts.
Bonsai ran our home
for a little over 10
years and we
considered ourselves
blessed. He gave us
unconditional love,
companionship,
precious moments
and established
fond routines. We
lost Maxx first, to
cancer 5 years ago
and last year Otto
to old age. Sadly,
Bonsai left us just
two weeks ago, his
old enlarged heart
just too tired to
continue. Although
our hearts are
breaking still and I
cry as I write this,
I know he lived a
full and exquisitely
happy life. He
brought us
immeasurable joy and
left a hole in our
lives that will not
be filled.
He was and always
will be my dog, my
friend, my Bonsai. |
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