Meisje and Bakas and Bakas and me....

When I was 1, I was attacked by a small dog named Freedom. (Ha ha! Not many people can say they were attacked by freedom - this explains a lot!) On a side note, this dog belonged to a Japanese-Canadian relative that was interned during WWII; interesting choice of name isn't it?

As a result, I was terrified of small dogs, or more accurately, terrified of the pain I associated with them. Big dogs however, were a different story. I loved big dogs! I would casually run up to a big dog and throw my arms around it without a second thought. Does this sound dangerous to you, too? If a little dog stared at me I would run away crying. Ummmmm, can you say traumatized?

 My dad decided to pick up a small dog from the pound one day, to 'help' me get over my fear. His name was Bakas and he was a Peekapoo. Needless to say, I was terrified of him. In the beginning, I remember him playfully chasing after me in the backyard and me crying and running like hell for the picnic table, to get away from him. And the car ride home from the pound in which I was a passenger? Forget about it.... It was awful - there was screaming, and a whole lot of tears.

I eventually warmed up to Bakas and he turned out to by my faithful companion for about 16 years. He was the kind of dog that, if I was upset, would come snuggle up to me and nuzzle his little face into my hands until I wrapped him up into my arms and cried all over him. On top of being a supportive and attentive, he was also great at running and playing; for example, he patiently let me dress him up in my doll clothes, he let me push him around in my doll buggy, he patiently sat in my doll highchair (in costume), and he graciously took all my  other poking and prodding. He took really good care of me and I still have moments, almost 20 years later, where I miss him dearly.

Some of my fondest memories of Bakas, involve racing each other up and down my street - with him always in the lead. One day that suddenly changed, and I actually beat him. This was the day something clicked for me around the concept of aging and the movement of time. I looked at him and noticed that his hair was turning gray and then realized he wasn't as energetic as he used to be. I beat him - 'Bakas the Street Racing Champion' - in a race! I remember feeling very sad about this, and I'm speculating this was probably around the time that my grandpa had passed away, so I was starting to get a grasp on the idea of mortality. But don't quote me on this, the time line of my childhood is a collage of random memories.

Eventually, Bakas became a very sick, old dog and my family decided to put him down. My mom's friend drove me, Bakas, and my mom to the vet, which was very smart thinking on my mom's part. (You know, the whole grief stricken, driving with your child in the car thing...). I remember the way the vet gently lay him down on the table before explaining the process of euthanasia to us. I stayed by Bakas's head looking into his eyes, stroking his head, telling him I loved him and not to be scared, over and over, all the while crying my eyes out. I remember he looked really scared - which wasn't surprising since he always hated going to the vet, coupled with the fact that I was a blubbering mess. I remember watching the light go out of his eyes until he was gone.... It was an awful experience. It was a really awful experience. Like I've said before, I am a sensitive creature.

 My dear friend lost her dog companion of 15 years today. I have no words here, just a sense of loss and grief for her, her partner, and all the other people and critters Meisje's life touched.... That and love - a whole lot of love.

Here's a video of Loki harassing Meisje:

There is one last thing you should know about Bakas: When you pulled his ears back and smoothed them into his head he looked exactly like a seal.