Sweet Briggs

Our dog died. Which means: My ever ready running partner died. My foot warmer died. My constant furry companion died. Our house greeter died. Our first pet died. A member of our family...

Briggs was our fur baby. He was such an easy dog to be around. He was easy to train and always wanted to please. He only had one accident in the house. Ever. 

I drew a hard line when we got him and said that he wasn't allowed to sleep in our room. I never had a dog in the house growing up and I didn't want him in my bedroom. The first night he cried and cried in his crate. The next night we let him sleep outside of our bedroom door blocking him from coming in with a baby gate. Then, the next night he was sleeping in the floor beside us. That is where he stayed. He broke me down and I am glad he did. 

He loved being with us as much as we loved being with him. He enjoyed running, walking, dog parks, the snow, the beach - he seemed to love everything. And he did everything with us. He ran around the dog park in Morgantown like he owned the place.  I loved watching him interact with the other dogs there. He was as good with stranger dogs as he was with his own human family. He loved to attempt dominant dog status by exerting his masculinity (he had a little humping problem). 

When it was cold and snowy in Morgantown we would want to stay inside but he was the reason that we would bundle up and head outdoors. I loved watching him jump in and out of the snow. He would burrow his face all the way down into the snow like he was trying to get to the ground. We never understood why he liked doing that so much but it was so darn cute every time he did. 

I think he liked the sand as much as he liked the snow. He sprinted round and round when we went to the beach, running circles around us, literally. He liked to run really fast beside the kids and graze them with his hip as he went by. This always knocked them down - but so gently.

When Quinn was born, he got sidelined a little, and even more when Finn was born. He didn't care. He was glad to have human siblings. He liked to sleep beside Quinn's crib when she was a baby. He didn't mind when they dressed him up for the holidays or made him wear a stethoscope and be Dr. Briggs. 

When both Quinn and Finn first learned to crawl - he was the one they wanted to go to. They wanted to poke him. Prod him. Pet him. Pull his fur. And he didn't budge. They always giggled so hard when he would wag his tail and tickle their faces. He was always so gentle with them. 

I remember walking into the room when Quinn was around a year old and in her exersaucer. Her face was soaked and her hair was sticking straight up.  She was looking at Briggs with a smile on her face. He must have given her tons of kisses when I stepped out of the room (more likely though he found some food residue that tasted yummy and licked every last little bit off). 

Briggs was always ready for a run. He trained for three half marathons with me. He trained with Joe for a half marathon and a mini-triathalon. (Granted, Joe’s training was three long runs.) He ran at least 3 miles most days of the week, and became an amazing running partner. He never complained when I slowed down to catch my breath and didn't mind when I cut our run a little short, or when I roused him from a sound sleep to head out for an early run, or when I waddled very slowly on walks when I was pregnant. He didn't care. He was so happy to be with us. 

More than anything, Briggs helped me feel safe. He was gentle, but he looked like a wolf. And I think some people were scared by his one blue eye and one brown eye – his stare could be disconcerting. But I could go out at night with him and know that I was safe. He helped me feel safe when Joe was gone. Joe’s gone right now, and I wish Briggs was here.

Oh yeah, the hair. Man, the hair. Being a Siberian Husky he had a lot of hair. He shed all of the time. Joe was the one who brushed him most often. He could fill up a grocery bag of hair every time he did this. If he did it everyday - he would fill up a bag everyday. We vacuumed a lot. I never thought I would miss all of the hair, but I do. I miss having hair stuck to all of my outfits. I miss him. 

Joe and I have struggled with his passing more than either of us thought possible. He was part of our family. He was "our" first pet. We got him three years into our dating relationship. We went to a breeder which turned out to be a little more like a puppy mill and picked him because we knew he would be a perfect fit for us, and he was. He has been there through it all: dating, engaged, married, job changes, 1st baby, 2nd baby, cross country move. He saw and heard more about my life than anyone else in the past 8 years. I miss him terribly.

As I write this with tears streaming down my face I can't help but realize how different things will be without him.  Our lives have been changed by a dog.

He made me a better person. Really. He made me think of someone besides myself. He taught me responsibility. I was 25 and selfish when we got him. In the matter of a few months he taught me who was the boss. He prepped us for having children. I learned from him. 

I am so proud that we got to be his human family. I was proud when I cradled him in my arms all the way home when we got him. I was proud when I was out with this beautiful creature. I was proud when I was at home with this gentle being. I was proud to be with him and I believe he was proud to be with us.

As we move forward without him we are doing things with the kids to help them remember him. The kids are making a "Briggsy" craft that they want to keep in their rooms. We have tons of pictures of him. We plan on doing a little memorial together as a family at the beach. I am sure that I will continue to miss him but I will cling to all of the wonderful memories that we had with him. I will never forget him. And, I doubt I will ever get another dog because it could never live up to the awesomeness of Briggsy.