Today, I am veering off my usual literary topic to sadly report the passing of my granddog, Mr. Bean. He was eleven.
Bean lived a great life in Virginia with my daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter. He quickly intertwined himself around their hearts, souls, and daily routines. Bean enjoyed a good walk around the lake, showing off for my granddaughter, splashing in the ocean during the annual family trip to the Jersey Shores, and holding sway at the head of the table during his yearly dog birthday party right after Thanksgiving. He was King of Dog Fashions, always sporting a sweater or t-shirt to match a season or holiday. He even dressed up in theme with the rest of the family’s Halloween costumes.
Bean was a little Lakeland terrier, but his heart, presence, and unconditional love equaled those of ten mastiffs. His sudden passing has left a huge, gaping hole in the Virginia household and in all our hearts.
Bean was my little snuggle buddy whenever I would visit, keeping me company when no one was around, and springing up onto my bed in the guest room to nap or cuddle. How do you let go of all of that and move forward? We must, of course–when the ache and tears can eventually be replaced by smiles and fond memories of a Great Dog.
Mr. Bean, your family, neighbors, and dog friends miss you terribly and will love you forever.
RIP, sweet Bean. November 28, 2008 – February 21, 2020. Thanks for gracing our lives and teaching us about love and patience. We thought we would have you longer to keep showing us the way.
Now, it’s your turn to romp and play, young and healthy again, with Rosie, Snickers, and all your doggie best buds over the Rainbow Bridge. Until we meet again to hold you in our arms, we will continue to hold you in our hearts.