We've had a 'Marley and Me' relationship with our dog Brynner from the very beginning. David got him as a puppy when we were dating in 2003, and Brynner was about 1 year old by the time we got married in '04.
He's always been a terrible barker; anyone walking near our house was surely about to attack us and steal all of our belongings, or so you would think. Especially those frightening mail and UPS people.
And the chewing...oh my. We've lost many important items over the years thanks to dear Brynner. A wind chime, a phone line, gloves, shoes, various yard equipment, Daphne's toys, furniture, etc. Sometimes we would buy him special dog chewing toys to try to distract him from chewing the things that we wanted kept in one piece, but he would always destroy the toys in no time and go back to chewing whatever he wanted.
My personal favorite, of course, has been his fear of loud noises. Even non-threatening loud noises, like the ice cream truck music, or those stuffed animals that sing, not to mention the obvious thunderstorms and fireworks. It seems like the worst storms or fireworks have been on nights that David's been at work, leaving me the joy of trying to keep Brynner from going completely insane. We've had many late night drives around the neighborhood to look for him after he's escaped, or just waiting for a few days until someone called to tell us they've found him. David has gotten called on his personal cell phone while at work from someone telling him they've found Brynner, and David has had to drive up in his police car to bring Brynner home. He's chewed holes in our garage door to escape, broken our fence, torn apart our screen door, torn apart our neighbor's screen door, and become a familiar dog to many people within several blocks of our house.
But he's always been super snuggly, too. And loyal. Your best friend if you wanted him to be. He'd protect you no matter what. A crazy dog, but at the end of the day, you knew he would do anything you needed.
Last night David was at work, we had a thunderstorm, and despite my attempts to keep him locked in his Brynner Box in the garage, he injured himself enough that he didn't survive his injuries.
Today the mailman came and no one barked, some fireworks went off and no one jumped over the fence. I fed one dog instead of two, and Lola looks as though she's lost her best friend.
Because she has, and we're all going to miss him.