lollergator

Edgar and I adopted Beebo in the spring of 2013.  At the EXACT same time, I was fighting for a promotion at my job at the museum, moving into my first house, starting a business studio, and moving my belongings cross-country in a U-Haul, bringing my best friend to live with me as a friend and a business partner.  Still, Ed and I made the decision to take Beebo without hesitation.

After a lifetime of neglect as a backyard dog, Edgar and I saved Beebo on his way to the pound, when his previous owners didn’t want to deal with their dog’s health problems. Poor Beebo, a white pit bull (named “Menace” by his owners), was overfed to obesity, and contracted skin cancer, allergies, and a staph infection from his life outside.  It was unfair to see him abandoned without ever knowing real love and care.  Edgar and I gave Beebo a second chance, forfeiting money and time we didn’t have to cure him, in hopes of finding him a new, loving owner.  We socialized him with our other dog, Shady, improved his diet and took him for walks.  Edgar house-trained him, taught him tricks, and I treated his skin problems with careful feeding, cleaning and medicine, feeding him his pills (that he would spit out) every day.  We even brought him to the vet and had his skin tumor removed!  Despite everything we did, no one was interested in a middle-aged pit bull with missing hair and scarred skin.

Since that time, I lost the promotion and left my job at the museum.  I don’t live at that house anymore.  My friend and I haven’t talked to each other since 2014.  But Edgar and I still had Beebo, and he was getting better.

This summer, I moved Edgar, Beebo, our other dog, Shady, and all of our belongings away from Salt Lake City, back to Minnesota.  It would be a place away from the city where our dogs would be comfortable and surrounded by wildlife every day.  It was a sad circumstance that Beebo’s health would once again take a turn for the worse, this time, permanently.  The staph infection returned, and his allergies worsened.  Months of antibiotics and  antihistamines weren’t helping, and Beebo’s skin was constantly red, itchy and bleeding.  We finally took him to a dermatologist, who told us that Beebo had developed pemphigus, an allergic reaction one has to their own skin.  The only viable treatment was a heavy dose of steroids that would shorten his lifespan significantly.  The treatment worked right away, but it also wore Beebo down much faster than we could have hoped.  Beebo needed to be taken out every 2 hours to pee, and it became that he would only poop blood.  He dramatically lost weight over several days; his muscles thinned, his movements became stiff and his gut sagged, even though the rest of his body was completely bony.

Edgar and I made the decision to put him down early, before he was at his limit of pain and suffering.  I feel so guilty though, because on his last day, he showed so much resilience.  We got him all ready for a walk, and on the way out the door, he was following me with a rope toy in his mouth because he was so excited.  No matter how cheerful he was at that moment, I have to remind myself that he was dying, and a painful end was waiting for him if we didn’t have the courage and mercy to act first.

We spent all day with him on Saturday.  He got to eat two hamburgers and lots of fries from our favorite burger place.  We took him for a walk on the trail overlooking the bluff, and he even got to see a tree full of turkeys.  The fall atmosphere was poetic, and we stayed out together until the sun set.

We’re always gonna miss you, buddy.

RIP Beebo, 2006-2015