I was first introduced to Chic Galleria by a friend of mine.  I had just ended a torrid three year relationship only to come home to find my eldest schnauzer Madison paralyzed in the back yard.  I knew at that time I was facing what was one of the hardest things I had done in my life to that point.  Carrie Castleman sent a link via Facebook alerting me to a call for stories about our dear beloved pets.  I had to make the decision to put Madison to sleep on April 27, 2009.  I came home and within about an hour wrote a brief story of my life with Madison and what in the course of sixteen years she had meant to me.  Little did I know that an obituary of sorts would lead me to begin writing for Chic Galleria.  I also had no idea that in just a few short months I would be writing another similar story.  At the time of Madison’s death, I was left with the last of my three schnauzers.  Those that know me know that I love animals.  My dogs are indeed like my children and in many ways I guess that they have acted as my surrogate children, as I will never have any of my own.  For those that knew the life I shared with Mr. Bentley, they always knew that he had always held a very special place in my heart.  He will always hold that place in my heart.

I will never forget the night that I wandered into a pet store in St. Petersburg, Florida.  I usually will not frequent a pet store that deals in the brokerage of animals.  I abhor the manner in which they are typically acquired and the condition in which they are kept.  I was buying toothpaste for Madison and in a pickle.  My vet was closed for the weekend and I needed to desperately brush my little girl’s teeth!   Once inside I was faced with a dilemma.  Who can resist looking at the cute and adorable puppies in a pet store?  Certainly not an animal lover such as myself!  I am also a self-described schnauzer fan.  Imagine my surprise (it was more like shock) to see a rather large white schnauzer sharing a cage with another older cairn terrier.  Both the schnauzer and the cairn were well past the six week old cute stage and next to the other small puppies looked like giants cramped together in a small cage, up on the top row and obviously out of direct eye contact.  I asked to see the schnauzer and questioned the clerk about the history of the dog.  I was told that he was eight months old, had been in quarantine because he had bit a small child (in defense of the puppy I guessed that he had play nipped and scared the child) and had almost been “destroyed” by Pinellas County for the attack.  When the clerk shoved the cairn terrier to the back of the cage so that he could grab the schnauzer by the neck and drag him out of the cage I almost came unglued.  I could not imagine how anyone who worked with animals in whatever capacity could ever treat one with such absolute disregard.  Little did I know that would not be the only thing that made my blood boil about my visit to the pet store.  The clerk presented me with the most sad and down trodden little dog I could ever imagine.  What on earth could have left a dog of only eight months old in such a sad and dejected state?  His story was indeed a sad one.  I was fairly certain that while he did come with pedigree papers I was also looking at a dog that had been a result of a puppy mill.  I also knew that this dog stood a far less chance of being purchased since he was competing with a room full of cute and perky six to eight week old puppies, all of which were still at that “cute” puppy stage.  He also carried a pretty hefty price tag of over $400.  That was quite a price for an older dog in a pet store.  I asked the manager if he might consider letting me have the dog at a reduced price.  Couldn’t hurt right?  The worst that he could say was no.  That was exactly what he said, sort of.  What he actually said to me was “No, because he is going to be destroyed in two days and I am going to write him off as a loss.”  I am a fairly calm and usually rather civil person, regardless of the circumstance, my response however was “You will burn in Hell!”  So, I wrote my $400 plus check (remember I needed toothpaste too) and went on my merry way with my new “puppy.”

My intentions were good.  I certainly didn’t have the extra money to be paying for a dog at the time and I already had the two girls.  I was certain that I would foster the dog long enough to find him a good forever home and save him from the wretched fate that the miserable pet store owner had in store for him.  That was ten years ago.  In the first few weeks that I had my new puppy I began to realize that the eight months he began life in a cage had left him with scars that I regret to say stayed with him for the rest of his life.  While laying on my couch watching this little schnauzer watching me, somehow the name Bentley came to me.  I can’t even begin to tell you where the name came from, only that it seemed to suite the little guy.  That white schnauzer from then on would become my Mr. Bentley.  Mr. Bentley was not your average puppy.  He had no idea how to jump on the couch, or even begin jumping towards the couch.  He had no idea what toys were for, nor did he know how to play with any of them.  He quickly made friends with my other two schnauzers Madison and Mia.  He was always attached to my hip however.  He never let me out of eyesight for very long.  Mia was always his little buddy, but I was him momma and we quickly bonded in a way that can only be described as a match made in Heaven.  My parents could only explain the rather unnatural bond between Mr. Bentley and myself by guessing that somehow he knew I had saved his life.  I feel like in so many ways over the course of ten years, while I may have initially saved him from a certain early “termination” he would go on to play such an important role in “saving” me on more than one occasion.  While the two girls were also there every day to meet me when I came home, comfort me through every heartache and break up, it was Bentley who never left my side and would lay in the same spot for hours until I came home and greeted him with the usual round of kisses and hugs.  He would howl and wail at the door when I left and would somehow seem to know when I was pulling in the driveway.  He always met me at the side gate as I pulled in my driveway and always made it to the front door before I could get the key in the keyhole!  Mr. Bentley never really warmed up to too many strangers quickly.  He was always a little guarded against new comers and there were a few people he never cared for (a few of them wound up being “exes”….should’ve listened to the dog!).  It took almost two full years before he would come anywhere near my dad.  Mr. Bentley did come to trust my parents and would get so excited when I would tell him Grammy and Grandpa was coming.  Ok, maybe it was the excitement in my voice, but to me it seemed as though he were genuinely excited!  He still would cautiously guard me anytime anyone, including my parents, would get too close to me.  He was cute with his protectiveness.  He would bark and kick his back legs as he warned whoever was coming in to hug me or get too close to me, all the while wagging his tail like crazy.  He even went so far as to nip at my mother one time for hugging me too hard!  He also afforded me the luxury of playing dress up with him!  He always had a snazzy designer collar.  Burberry was what seemed to suite him best and he even had a Burberry turtleneck to match! He was very well dressed and even enjoyed our meals out together.  I loved taking him anywhere that I could.  I guess it was partly to show him off.  It was more of just wanting to always have my best friend with me.  I happened to think he was without a doubt the most handsome of all handsome puppies on the planet!  A Sunday morning breakfast at J Christopher’s was a particular favorite!  My little man certainly led a very good life by many people’s standards, but then again, how could I not provide him with the very best life possible for a dog?  He had done so much for me in terms of always loving me unconditionally and always providing me with far more love and devotion that I am certain I deserved.  I am certain that the way my heart crumbled and the guilt that I still feel when I came home and discovered that Mr. Bentley was gone will come as no surprise to anyone.

I received a phone call one Friday night back in October from a friend to tell me that my garage door was open.  I immediately asked her to please check on Mr. Bentley.  I had been gone away from the house the night before and was on my way back into Savannah.  I knew I would be at my house in less than thirty minutes, but I had to make certain Mr. Bentley was still in his usual spot on our bed.  My friend called me back in a few moments, and I knew in that instant before I even heard the worry in her voice, that Mr. Bentley was not in the house.  He had gotten out.  I would come to discover that the company that does my yard had left the garage door open at some point on Thursday.  They had been doing my yard for eight years.  I trusted them with my gate keys and knew that they always looked out for my dogs.  I was horrified that they had left the garage door open.  I quickly began making phone calls and urgent pleas for help in finding Mr. Bentley to all of those that I knew, and even a few people I didn’t know.  I spent the better part of the following two weeks putting out flyers, newspaper ads, online ads and almost daily trips to the local animal shelters in hopes that someone would know where my Mr. Bentley was.  My Parents called daily, my mother in tears wanting to know if there were any updates.  In the course of those two weeks, I have to say that my faith in mankind was restored.  People rallied behind me in hopes of the safe return of Mr. Bentley.  Complete strangers, people who had never even laid eyes on me or my dog sent out alerts, combed their own neighborhoods and sent me well wishes.  The people at animal control quickly began recognizing me first by appearance, then by my voice when I would call several times a day.  Friends who had contacts with the local radio personalities and newspapers called in favors and helped spread the word that Mr. Bentley was missing.  It was a complete stranger, and I have no doubt an angel of God that would be the one who had to deliver the news to me that she was fairly certain that she knew where Mr. Bentley was.  This person would also be the one who so unselfishly gave of herself when she met me to pick Mr. Bentley’s remains up.  He had traveled not quite three miles from home, yet had found himself in a completely unfamiliar world.  He had ventured out to one of the heaviest traveled roads in Savannah and had been hit by a car.  It had been several days since he had been hit and I will never be free of the memory of my handsome Mr. Bentley, laying there in the grass, hardly recognizable and certainly not the amazing, loving puppy he had once been.  My new friend walked with me to the point where Mr. Bentley was and had even brought sheets and towels with her to help me wrap him up and place him in a box.  She stayed there with me on the side of the road as I wept over the loss of my friend, in a way only an animal lover and truly compassionate person would understand.   It has been over a month since the night I found Mr. Bentley.  The love and support from not only my friends, the amazing man in my life and my parents, but complete strangers was unbelievable.  I had his remains cremated and I know that he is once again with girls.  I still greet him every day when I get home from work.  I still ask him for a kiss every now and again in French (yes, he could speak what limited French I knew!) as I kiss the top of his wooden urn.  There are many times that I still feel as though he is there with me in the house, never leaving me alone for too long.  I miss him terribly still and I fear that there will always be an empty space in my heart, waiting for the day when I once again meet up with him and the two girls.

This story is not without its bitter sweet ending though.  While I still miss my little man terribly, there has been a bright spot in not only my life, but the life of another unfortunate soul whose life was almost cut short as well.  While visiting animal control daily in hopes of finding Mr. Bentley, I had become enamored with a short, stocky blue pit named Big Pappa.  I thought he would make a great companion for Mr. Bentley when he did return home.  The day after I found Mr. Bentley, I called animal control to let them know the search was over I inquired about Big Pappa.  The lady on the phone told me that he had just been adopted.  While I was glad that he was being placed in a good forever home, I will admit to being a bit bummed.  My heart was ready to have another companion just yet, but the thought of such an awesome dog being put down simply because nobody wanted him broke my heart.  What if I had thought that way about Mr. Bentley?  The lady sensed that I was a bit bummed and asked “What about Xander?”  I had remembered seeing a dog named Xander on the rescue website.  He had seemed like a pretty cool dog so I told her that I would come take a look at him.  She said that she had been off of work for a few days so she wanted to call and make sure that he was still there, as he literally was on “death row.”  I hung up the phone and waited for the return phone call to let me know if Xander was even still at the shelter.  When the lady called me back, I could tell by her voice that she was in a bit of shock.  She explained to me that as she had placed the call to animal control, the person on the other end explained to her that Xander was at that precise moment laying on a table sedated with a  needle in his leg.  He was in the process of being put down.  They explained that there had been a delay because they did not have enough pentobarbital, the drug used to stop a dog’s heart.  Someone had gone back inside the main building to get enough of the drug for a dog of Xander’s size.  Literally, had the call been two minutes later, Xander would have already been gone.  In the event that my bleeding heart for those who have been abused or mistreated did not come out clearly, this is the point where my brain said “this surely is a sign.” Needless to say, I went to go visit Xander that day!  He was still heavily sedated, but clearly a happy and healthy dog.  His tail was wagging as hard as he could manage; given the sedative he had been given.  I took Xander home the next day.

I am happy to say it has been almost two months now and Xander has adapted quite easily to his new life.  I have to think that while I may have been looking out for another unfortunate soul, somehow I do believe that my Mr. Bentley was looking out for me.  The timing of events couldn’t have been more precise.  Somehow, Mr. Bentley knew that I would be devastated and broken hearted.  Having Xander in my life has given me someone else to take care of and another unconditional loving soul to take care of me!  I think Mr. Bentley would be happy.

Written by Theresa Jones.

Tags: dog, friend, puppy, sadness, schnauzer, story