Slippers

There's a grief that can't be spoken
There's a pain goes on and on
Empty chairs at empty tables
Now my friends are dead and gone

-Les Miserables

I had no intention to write about my dog Slippers when he died in March of this year. There was a too much of a chasm between the mundanity to others of an old animal dying and the immense and sometimes crushing loss I felt. But I listened to a podcast today that so captured why I wasn’t going to, it convinced me I should. Journalist and author Sarah Hepola was on the House of Strauss podcast and was discussing what parts of her memoir “Blackout” were and were not hard for her to write when she said this “I was really really attached to an animal and I lost him and it feels so small but it felt so big to me. And I was never sure that the words conveyed that.” (1:55:23). Which is where I am; where I do not think words can convey my loss for what was just an animal I had for 1/6 of my short life. But he was big to me—and others—so I will try.

Slippers was my dog from November 22, 2017 to March 20, 2023. I say it this way because he was someone else’s dog for longer than he was mine. He was a bassett- shepherd mix. Which as you can see to the right made for an interesting look. He was very short and thick like a basset, but with the coloring and face of shepherd. And short little shepherd ears. He was very…endowed. I dont know where that breed that came from.

It was his face that got him adopted. Below-left is the photo that got its hooks in me. Cayla Allen is a Facebook friend who I only sort of knew in high school and she, for reasons I don’t know, frequently shared a Chattanooga, TN-area humane society’s posts. And out of many, she shared Slippers’. And I saw that sweet face and this video and I was in love. I had wanted a German shepherd for a while and here was one available. (side note: I confidently said for a long time that the SPCA had advertised him as a Shepherd, full stop, when he so clearly was not. But it turns out that they accurately said he was a basset/shepherd mix, so I was just making shit up apparently). But Problem 1 was that I lived in a zero-pet apartment and was in the closing months of law school. But the flip side of that was that I already had one pet—a cat—and heard dogs all the time and I had just a few months to be in the apartment, so what the hell, I would give it a shot. Problem 2 though: the SPCA wanted proof that I didn’t live in a zero-pet apartment, so enter Erin Duble, seen on the right below actually adopting my dog. We arranged for her to go look for me; I was in Ohio and I would sneak off from Thanksgiving raking to take calls from her. My mom was pissed about this idea—hence the sneaking—and she had good reason to be (see: two pets in zero-pet building) but she came around. I drove up about ten days later from Athens, GA and got my boy. He was so much smaller than I expected! He was a stout but very short boi. And he limped, which I hadn’t known about. But I had no regrets and that collection and drive home was quintessential of the rest of the time with my Slippers: he took everything in stride and was happy to be along for the ride.

So that’s his origin story, at least to me. I dont know anything about his life before me; just some guesses He was 8.5 years old when I got him. He had a very serious limp from a bum right front elbow and later x-rays showed bb pellets embedded in him and that the elbow was a break that wasn’t fixed, so I think he had had a rough time for a bit. My canon was always that he had a loving and/or safe home for a while, then got injured and his prior owners set him loose, where he lived loose for a while. But I really don’t know. What I do know is that I did really try to give him a safe and secure life. Not specifically to make up for anything, but because he so clearly showed he merited it. What made him a low-adoptability dog made him great for me. His age and low mobility meant he liked to rest, didn’t run around, and he was fine to be alone for a while. He was also silent—I heard essentially no voluntary noises from him in 5 years—and so friendly in spite of what I fear was done to make him quiet.

The next five years was a very varied life for me and Slippers was my buddy throughout. (Side note: Jaqen my cat preceded and succeeded Slippers and went through the same things. He’s a good bud too and demands attention, but this is Slippers space, so that is the sole mention). He was my Slippers, Slips, Slip-o-pot-muss, and perhaps most commonly, Mr. Slippers for some reason. I didn’t name him and I didn’t consider the idea of shelter names when I adopted him; I just assumed he was Slippers. His first era with me was high-rise apartment life; clandestinely riding the elevator to go walk in the city. He’d later be a first floor apartment dog that just had to walk out the front door, but in Athens I lived right downtown on the 6th floor, so he was a city dog for a bit. He got a little Athens winter and spring, but I really remember the summer. He was a trooper, but man was it hot for a hobbling old man like him. But he LOVED the attention he got on the street and it fueled him. I marvel today that we made it up and down Clayton Street in Athens so often with how he was in 2022/23. This was a time when it was clear Slippers could have fulfilled a big and desired role for me: help me meet women. Alas it was his sole failing; he just wasn’t enough of a walker/dog park fan post-Athens to be a convo-starter. I needed his help, but I do forgive him for this lone let down. :)

From there, he came with me to Ohio for a few months, then Flint-area Michigan, then to Traverse City. In Michigan, the southern-dog discovered snow and he LOVED it. Aside from when he saw a rabbit, no other time was he as excited as when he was plowing through snow on his little arthritic legs. Among his other ailments, he also had very bad teeth, but that did not stop him either from sticking his snout in snow banks any chance he got.

We traveled a bit together, most often to his “grandparents.” He and my late maternal grandpa Dave had a particularly close relationship. He also found a second-home as a farm dog at Renee’s farm in the UP. He stayed for “summer camp” a couple times when I was traveling a bit and in lieu of boarding. He was by far the smallest and oldest dog there next to Brinn the Doberman and Jon Snow the Great Pyrenees—not to mention a flock of sheep— but he literally sauntered around like he owned the place. He made it clear what he would and wouldn't put up with. For example, he wanted to be near Brinn and Jon wrestling; he did not want to be wrestled with. He would walk to the barn but do it on his time.

I’ve rambled on about Slips bio details, because frankly it is easier both to describe and doesn’t bring tears. But if this post has a point, its an appreciation of the special time we had together. So I should get to the emotional bond. More than any one trip, or experience, or time with others; I will remember our daily rhythm. I only had Mr. Slips for five years and change. Not all that long in the grand scheme. But because he needed me, we had an intense and special five years. He was a low-key dog with high-key needs. Everything was just a little (and sometimes more than a little) hard for him, so I spent a lot of time helping him with just about everything. In particular we had a special balance and timing of walks. I probably sounded like a crazy man explaining his “rules” to other caretakers. We had a spectrum of walks. Some walks I’d just let him trod leash-less outside, go once, and return. But I made him do one Mr. Poopers a day, which entailed a leash or lots of calling, and making him go a certain distance to work up to the no. 2. In 2022, this frequently became carrying him to likely spots and then letting him work up the no. 2. By the end, this was most times but I was mostly happy to carry him and he was happy to be carried. He helped me with patience when I really thought for his own good he needed to the bathroom and wouldn’t. But I often (sometimes belatedly) realized I should trust when he seemed done; he always held up his end of the bargain and didn’t go inside.

Food was another process; a dance of the right mixture of kibble, pill-delivery, and some accent to make him eat them both. And watching him to make sure he ate his pills; he had a particular talent for not eating his Gabepentin. We went through a gravy stage and I’ll tell you, I freaking hate gravy and it grosses me out. So it is a sign of my love that I still heated it up and poured it over his food because that’s what made him happy. I was thankful when he moved on from that and became a cheese dog. This dog conservatively ate 1,000 slices of yellow american cheese. It was the one thing that stuck. It was my number one shopping item; more than milk, chicken, or diet coke. If we didn’t have it; i had to stop on my way home. If I forgot, I usually had to go out or improvise for a night. I still have a package in my fridge that I can’t get rid of.

In between food and bathroom, Slippers was a great enjoyer of beds and porches; wherever was closest to me. As I sit in the quiet of my apartment now, I can still hear his click-clack of nails and gait that was so uniquely him (sort of a ta-dum, ta-dum, ta-dum). He was smart as hell and I know this because he clearly heard and listened to me when I had him do something he was okay with and clearly heard and ignored me and did something different when our plans did not align.

Photo Credit: HC Maine- https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/166163316/dewey-stuart

There’s so much more I can say; he was a small dog but he loomed large in my life. The picture above is one that pops around the internet from time to time and I find it so apt and so sweet when I think about my animals. But I will try to wrap up things up shortly. I miss my Slips terribly. He went quickly; in 24 hours basically. In hindsight, he was a physically different dog in 2018 and 2019 and 2021 and 2022 and even different again in 2023. But on his second to last day, he had a cardiac event at home in the evening, the vet told me that lung and heart issues were going to make end of life planning necessary, and then the next morning I woke to another cardiac event and in 15 minutes he was gone. He cared for me to the last; he knew I would stress about how and when to best stay and care for him that week and make the final hard call. So when his walk of life was over, it was over. And I knew he was gone because Mr. Slippers never went to the bathroom in the house.

So Slips, I want to conclude by expressing my thanks, regrets, and love. Not because I think you’re anywhere or that I will see you again but because I had a great life with you and I like to think you’d agree. I hope I made you feel loved, because you deserved to be. I was not the only one who loved you either; you made an impression on everyone you ran up to. They, from Nene to Mimi to Erin to Aunt Tara to Dr. Erikson to so many others, miss you so much buddy. This was in part because you were so so sweet. I think you had full justification to be a mean old man, but you weren't. You were the opposite and full of love and kindness and forgiveness. I am sorry that I got frustrated with you from time to time; you were doing your best and did try to do what I wanted. I did not always make the right calls or express them the right way, but you loved me anyway. I will miss all the times I carried you. It was a unique thing we had. You didn’t want to walk on hard surfaces and I wanted to cross the parking lot in a reasonable time. It was a good deal. I miss your presence every single day. I miss your sweet face and your expressive eyes. I still expect to see you and hear you get up when I get home. I still think “I can’t go straight to x, I have to let Slippers out.” Other than times I got angry with you, my remaining and lasting regret is that I think I flubbed your passing. I am sorry for that. I should have just sat with you instead of planning and worrying about what needed to be done. You needed me and I continue to be haunted that I didn't comfort you like you deserved. But I think you knew how much I loved and cared for you and knew that I was just trying to figure out what you needed. As you knew I always tried to. So I like to think you understood, because you were you.

I love you Mr. Slippers.