The Cellar - RIP Pearl the Dog, 1999-2012

She started her life as the little niece to Bean, her elder. Bean, my first dog, was a typically bold Boston Terrier, having gotten the bulldog side of the Boston Terrier family. Pearl was the terrier side. My ex described them perfectly: Bean was the OCD dog and Pearl was the ADHD dog. Bean had his obsessions and Pearl was the insouciant dumb blonde.

We always thought Bean was none too bright, but Pearl came along and showed us what a doofus dog really was. Bean went through obedience and learned certain things he’d know his whole life. When we called, he would instantly come. He knew the hand signals for each major command. Meanwhile, Pearl went through and only wound up with basics: sit, and recall. Pearl was just too easily distracted and just didn’t have time for all that nonsense.

But Pearl was special from day one. The name “Pearl” was inspired by Perl, the programming language. We picked out her name before meeting her... and before learning that she was a kind of rare, all-white Boston Terrier. And her breeder had been calling her “girlfriend”, rhyming with our chosen “Pearl”.

Aside from her all-white color, Pearl was a model Boston Terrier. Her immediate family of champions produced a strong dog indeed. I didn’t realize what this meant, until owning two very different dogs. Bean came from super-champ stock, but he had faults. His gait was all front-wheel drive; he had a massive and powerful chest powering his front, but his hindquarters seemed like an afterthought. We said he had “sexy legs”, but they were actually underdeveloped.

Pearl, in comparison, was AWD, with a strong hinders and powerful rear kicky-legs. With a straight back and a beautiful expression, if she had turned out the typical black-and-white Boston Terrier she would have been a champion for sure.

Although Bean was your typical dominant personality, and Pearl your typical submissive personality, Pearl at age 1 had more powerful jaws than Bean, and so they settled into a pack order where Pearl was dominant. Bean seemed resigned to his fate, living under a powerful bitch. With age, he was starting to show the signs of his other weaknesses as a dog: a spine that did not develop properly, and a jaw that had pain during tugs-of-war. In dog land, tug-of-war outcome is really important.

The amazing differences between Bean and Pearl taught me about personality. Bean was very much a “dog’s dog”, and would boss around bigger dogs five times his size. Pearl was very much a “people’s dog”, enjoying the company of humans over dogs. She was always skittish around other dogs, but she was always comforted by the presence of people. Her temperment was simply beautiful, and she had not one bone of aggressiveness in her body. She simply loved people.

When Bean died, Pearl was 5. Pearl, then, would become my one constant companion through married life, divorced life, dating life, girlfriend life, engaged life, broken-up life..Through two business startups and business failures. Through several adult children trying to find their way, and then a toddler visiting every other weekend. Pearl would be loved by many family members, related to me or not.

She lived a gifted life, from owners that cared for her deeply and insisted on only the best food and the best veterinary treatment. I have always said, one of the great things about life in our modern society is that we get to spoil our animals.

At age 8, she would eat a cooked steak bone and require vet treatment. They wanted to operate on her and remove the bone, but they found she had a fairly bad heart murmur. At the time, they thought her life expectancy would be 12 without the murmur, but her heart would get her by age 10.

Pearl, the well-built, hearty trooper, would keep going to 13.

She began passing out due to arrhythmia on Feb. 15. Ten months later, she moved with me to the farmhouse, having one cardiac event per day, but hanging in there. The vets had given her one longer final inning, with the medication updates and monitoring through this time. And it was a great favor to me to have my companion around for these big changes in my life. I’m glad she made it to the farmhouse, even though the last two weeks must have confused her.

And companion for sure. During most of her life, I worked from home, and Pearl would follow me everywhere. If I went upstairs she would trail me and stand where she could see where I was going next. She spent most of her life napping by my side, with one eye open to make sure I wasn’t leaving. It’s going to take a long time to get used to not having her there.

Through the last six months and all her difficulties, I must have mourned for her 100 times. I thought to myself that it wouldn’t make this day any easier. But you know what: it has. I feel stronger today and I know that I was more able to do the very best thing for her this morning.

During the last two days she got very much weaker; along with the cough, she had labored breathing and was starting to suffer. This morning she collapsed harder than she normally does, losing her bowels and coughing up fluid, and I could not feel any heartbeat for five minutes. I thought she was dead right then, but she came back to consciousness only to be half-aware. She was obviously having great difficulty breathing, and quaking in either fear or pain. She survived the trip to the vet but was barely aware of me when I said my last goodbye before her emergency euthanasia.

Even the vets were sad to see her go. They had come to know her through her regular visits.

I thank the Cellar for reading my bits about her final months. It was helpful to me to be able to grieve to you all. I actually feel a sense of relief that her long final battle is over. I have been spending the last six months worrying about her, medicating her, taking care of her. Tomorrow I won’t have to make sure I get home with enough time to take care of my little Pearl. But the house will be emptier, and that’s the saddest part.