Alphonse (2/7/2024)

At 6 weeks he was like 20 pounds
Coming home with us an enormous ball of fluff
And curiosity
And hunger, he needed to eat several times a day
And he stayed nights in the kitchen behind baby gates,
On the linoleum floor
Where he could learn not to piddle in the floor
And he’d cry when he was hungry
Or lonely
So we slept on the kitchen floor with him.
Every night taking turns,
Or sometimes all of us together

And he had worlds of energy
So we hired a dog walker to come take him out
On days where we both had to work,
then I took him every morning it didn’t rain
And sometimes in the afternoons
Our mile-and-a-half loop around the neighborhood
Where he would stop traffic
And elicit comments
For he was beautiful and such a good boy
After about 6 months he never pulled
He just walked beside or just behind me

And especially on mornings where it was brutally cold
And he was not cold,
But I was cold
I’d sing to him on our 5am walks
A song just about our walks, just about him
My Burnese Blues
Alphonse was his name.

Did I mention he was funny
Running between your legs
Almost picking you up
Because he was so tall,
And a smooth criminal
Stealing mom’s slippers,
And socks
One that he swallowed on thanksgiving day
That led to the emergency vet
And a rousing cheer when he barfed it back up
To go home to turkey dinner
And a thorough cleansing of the house
Of all things bite and swallowable size?
Laundry day was never the same again.

And oh so helpful
Greeting mom at the door
To take her lunch box or purse in
Because that was his job
But it wasn’t his job to give it back,
Just to carry it in, and then have you try to get it back.
Until he got his cookie….
And when Covid hit
And we all worked from home,
He helped keep my feet warm while I worked
Or just helped keep an eye on me
He looked at me a lot

He’d greet me at the door
Every time I came home
Or just came inside if I’d been out for a bit
Burying his head in me
And pushing so that I always had to brace
For the bernie hug
That often lasted minutes
But never long enough

And he walked with a shake to his booty
Almost a waddle
A powerfully built and meaningful waddle
And he ran with reckless abandon
As if he could not stop if he wanted to
But he did, and right into you
Slightly wimpering and wagging
If it had been too long since you’d been home.

The house was kept just above 60°
All winter long
So Alphie was more comfortable.
And we invested in airconditioning
Blowing right on the marble floor of the bathroom
Where he would lay on hot summer days
Soaking up the cold as best he could
Or outside beneath the Japanese maple
By the backdoor gate
In the shade

He was as tall as the dinning room table
27 inches as the shoulder,
And taller at the chin
Which could rest on the table without straining
But he never did
He waited patiently
For that last bite that you’d cut in half
And he knew it was that bite
That he’d gently take from my fingers
Or from mom’s fork or spoon when offered
With varying levels of moisture
Depending on how long he’d been waiting.

Three years in
He adopted his sister Rosie
And no one could ever hurt Rosie
Because he was the big brother
And he meant it
And she would steal his toys
And his food from under his chin
Or gently play bite on his jowels
And he would just look at her with big eyes
He had the biggest eyes
And all the patience for her

When I traveled for work he slept
At the top of the stairs
Guarding the bedrooms at night
And releasing the low growl of a lion
So when I got home I’d announce myself
And listen to the growl become a scamper
And a happy wimper
And a bernie head-ram hug
That lasted minutes
That never lasted long enough

And he did not allow brushing
until we bribed him with peanutbutter
Or spoonfulls of organic almond butter
And he would sit mostly still
Until each spoon was empty
But never allowing a brush to touch his tummy
Or his feet
Never his feet
And then we gave him a bath
In the upstairs bathtub
And from then on when I traveled he slept
At the bottom of the stairs
Because he wasn’t getting a bath again

And when I sat in the basement
On the drums, or recording guitar
He would trundle down the stairs
To lie at my feet
To soak up the cold concrete floor
And just be with me

And when I sat in the front room
With a paper, or coffee
He would lie at my feet
To soak up everything
And just be with me

And when I sat playing guitar
He would sit between my feet
And throw his head back
Against the strings
Hinting desperately at a chin scratch
Foiling my practice time
Until the chin scratch was delivered
Sometime for minutes
Before he’d let me resume
Lying at my feet
Just to be with me

And the last winter
When he didn’t feel so well,
He’d refuse to come inside
And lie in the snow
Or sit and stare out in the yard
Thinking I suppose
And soaking in the cold
He was like a puppy in the snow
Excited for the snow
Even this last winter

And I’m writing this all down
Because I don’t want to forget
But I’m sure this is not all
He gave so much in so few years
And I want to remember
His big head in my lap
There in my hands
Even on the cold concrete floor.

Peace Alphonse.