Banjo’s Dream

The big lug has been gone a year now. And like a forest after a catastrophic fire, our hearts are starting to heal and sprout new life. But it’s hard to believe Banjo died 365 days ago.  Time flies when you’re trying to get by.

All I remember is that it was another rough day for him.  My wife and kids were out of town and he had another vicious attack of pancreatitis during the night. (he’d worry and not eat, aggravating his diabetes and causing the attacks). I had him at the vet at 5:30 a.m. and he rallied just long enough to see his family one more time. But by evening he had gone back down hill and was whimpering from the pain. Even narcotic pain medication couldn’t bring him relief.  We had to make the hardest decision we’ve ever had to make.  He went to sleep one last time in my wife’s arms.

It was around 11:30 at night and the little brown dog with the big will to live was gone.

And at that moment, another little brown dog who would heal us was being born in Delaware. They passed on the Rainbow Bridge (He died at the same time she was born but on different days.Time zones are funny like that.)

Banjo was a rescue dog.  We were his third and forever home.  And because of it, he had a level of appreciation that couldn’t be matched. I’ve never seen an animal or human with his fierce spirit. His strong will to live will never be matched. He motivated me to get moving and chase my dreams.

Today I’ll honor his life by working on a book dedicated to that spirit.  Banjo’s Dream will be out this fall — I  hope it captures his incredible love of life.

I owe it to him.  I owe it to my ‘Jo.