(November 11th,
1998-September 25th, 2016)
Where to start?
We said goodbye to our beloved little Bichon Frise, boy,
Finnigan today, just 47 days before he would have turned 18. It seemed somehow fitting to say
goodbye today because it was St. Francis of Assisi’s annual Blessing of the
Animals at St Wesley’s United Church. We‘ve attended many times over the years,
but last year felt extra special because he was so old and the minister was so
loving and compassionate to him, and to me, when I started to cry. I knew then
that our days together were numbered.
And I guess I already knew that the day we adopted him, on
November 7th, 2009 just two days before his 11th
birthday. We never dreamed he’d be
with us for 7 years or how much happiness, sunshine & light he’d bring us
once he got healthy, felt safe & secure, and loved by us.
His name was Fingili, which is Persian for love. Obviously
someone had loved him for some of his life, but he was in sad, neglected shape
when we came upon him. Grossly
overweight, he’d just had many decayed teeth removed and was a drooling mess.
He’d also had numerous pre-cancerous moles taken off so he was full of shaved
spots and stitches. His soft fur was bedraggled looking and he just seemed so
in need of some love. And love him we did.
We had a 14 year old Bichon gal named Casey at that time. Adding
a Finnigan to the family seemed apropos. He loved her, she tolerated him. At
first he was so overweight he could barely keep up with her, but as the days
passed, and we continued to walk and build up his stamina, the pounds melted
away and he became a healthy 16 pound guy. For two wonderful years we were
blessed with the Mr. Dressup duo of Casey and Finnigan. They were good company
for each other…he irritated her as his playful, happy little man personality
bloomed, but she put up with him and his attempts to engage her in play. She
had no interest in him and his tiny squeaky toys, but he tried nevertheless.
When we lost Casey at Christmas in 2011, Finnigan was 13
years old. We were all so lost without her. She was the alpha and he lost his
walking buddy. It didn’t take long
for us to realize we needed another gal and just two months later, on February
7th, 2012, a 9 year old Bichon gal named Pixie came from Chicago to
join our family. Pixie and
Finnigan became a strong bonded pair and he bloomed with a new gal in the
family. We all did.
These two were great friends and became the eyes and ears
for one another as Pixie lost her hearing shortly after she came to us and
Finnigan started to lose his eyesight around that time, too. They spent their
days walking with me each morning to my neighborhood café for my daily latte,
curled up on the red chair in the window waiting for us to come home, enjoying
the warm, sunny winters in Palm Springs, riding on the backs of our bikes in
their little seats, and boating beautiful B.C. during the summers aboard our
boat, the aptly named “FInnigan’s Wake”. We had so many adventures together.
When you adopt seniors you know your days together might be
compromised by their age and health but none of us were prepared to say goodbye
to Pixie just three short years later, on February 26th, 2015, from
cancer. I believe this was even harder on Finnigan than us, because his
companion who he walked with, whose lead he followed to “show him the way” was
gone. It was devastating. Here we were, trying to prepare ourselves for the
fact that our senior guy, who was 16.5 years old at the time, was likely getting
close to the end of his life, and instead, we lose our younger gal who was just
12. Clearly Finnigan wasn’t ready to go anywhere without us!
We found out, about a year ago, that his back legs were
developing major atrophy when he started to stumble a lot when he walked. His
heart was very healthy, but his legs were becoming weaker. Still, we all
soldiered on, just slower and for shorter distances. His eyesight was poor
then, but he could still see mostly just light and dark and shadows. Although
he’d slowed down through 2015, he was still happy, quite healthy, and just the
sweetest, cuddliest, little monkey you could imagine. It was a sad day for us last
year when his eyesight became poor enough that we noticed he couldn’t play with
his toys anymore.
With those little back legs becoming weaker, and his
eyesight becoming ever less, the crazy thing is that he could still go up the
stairs in our house each morning, part of his daily routine, until the end of
February this year! After that time, he would attempt to come up, and when he
couldn’t complete what he was determined to do, he’d bark at us until we came
and carried him up. We were all trained!
Of course this story leaves out so many endearing details
about his life, his likes, his amazingly happy personality. How we’d make a
“gun” with our fingers and shout bang at him and he’d fall over onto his side,
but how he could never play dead because he was just too happy and excited for
the treat awaiting him when he pulled off his trick, so he’d really just fall
over and pop right back up. How he’d beg for food by sitting up on his butt and
frantically wave his paws at us, in perfect unison, and then let out an ear
piercing shriek if he was not rewarded with a tidbit or two. Or how he’d try to
hang way out the window when we were in the car because he LOVED the wind in
his face. Or how he always slept on one of the pillows above our heads and
every morning, really, really early, he’d crawl under the covers and curl up
against my husband’s body and sleep tucked into him. Or how he’d jump up on the
dining room chairs when we were eating, plop his butt down on the chair and
place his paws on the table, awaiting what he thought should be his own
suppertime… or how he’d climb up on the furniture and drape his arm over the
armrest while more or less sitting upright as if to say, “Yes, I appreciate the
furniture and all the comforts it has to offer.” Or how happy he was to be in
his little seat on the back of our bikes as we rode around town. Or how he’d
bring his teeny squeaky toys over to us again and again to play with him. Or
how he’d try to crawl into Casey or Pixie’s bed with them and make them
furious, because he wanted a snuggle, even though they weren’t interested in
snuggling with him. Or how excited he’d get when daddy came home every night
and he’d greet him at the door with a lick and then tear into the kitchen
because he knew it also meant suppertime. Or how he’d let us do anything to him
– dress him up in silly costumes – whatever we wanted to do, he was up for
it because he was just that kinda’
easy going little man. So many memories that I can’t even mention them all here.
So here we are. Over a year and a half later after saying
goodbye to our beloved Pixie, and now he’s letting us know that he’s tired. His
hind legs get weaker as the days go by, his appetite has decreased over the
past month (and eating was his favorite thing on the planet. We could tell the
time of day by Finnigan’s meal clock!) and he sleeps most of the time. Some
nights he can be unsettled and restless for several hours during the
evening. Even with all of that
progressing, he is still a happy, sweet little guy. So soft & fluffy. He
still looks like a little bear cub & not the old man that he is, until you
notice that his big brown eyes have turned a milky blue as his cataracts have
advanced. Our little man loves to
have his chin scratched and to have his ears massaged. He is less sure of
himself in the house these days, so doesn’t really like being on the furniture
anymore, but when he’s sleepy he still loves a good pillow nest on the bed. When
our two Bichon gals, Tilly and Lily, bark with excitement and happiness when we
come home, he wakes up and comes to the door to bark with excitement and
happiness, too, even if we’re not sure that he really has a clue about what’s
going on.
If we are lucky enough, most days he still happily greets us
with a bit of a tail wag and a lick on the hand or all over our faces, just
like he used to do every morning when he woke up on our bed, and every time we
came home. I still walk through the door every day, look for him and say, “Hey
little buddy.” He responds to that by stumbling over, with his funny gaited walk,
and letting us cuddle him. Then he wants his treat!
There wasn’t a person who met Finnigan that didn’t fall in
love with him…friends, relatives, neighbors, his facebook peeps…he was known as
the little guy with the smile.
There are too many “Finnigan Fans” to mention them all, but you know who
you are!
What can I say to help people move forward and adopt a
senior? You will not be disappointed if you do. Your days with them may be
shorter than if you adopt a younger dog, but every one of those days will be so
full of love and sunshine that you can’t imagine not having them in your life! Please
remember that life is not measured by the number of breaths that we take, but
by the moments that take our breath away.
My darling boy, Finnigan, each day with you was a gift. You
have been a precious bundle of fluff that made our lives happier & fuller with
you in it, and made us better people by teaching us that unconditional love
comes to us in all ages. We are thankful that we adopted you, but more thankful
that you adopted us.
Your heart is pure and your soul is free. We will always
love you and never forget you. I expect
that your Bichon sisters, Casey and Pixie, will be waiting for you and that
some day we will all meet again.
R.I.P. Mr. Man, our special guy Mr. Figgliggy.
Goodnight little Prince.
Love you forever,
Mommy and Daddy David
