Everybody Wants To Be A Cowboy

Pet loss, love and - shit I think my prefrontal cortex just developed.

Song of the week: Wild Horses by The Rolling Stones

My washing machine has broken. I noticed it slowing down and down, until one day it tripped the electric and it was gone. So, last weekend as the sun was shining, I bundled all of my washing into an IKEA bag and began the walk to the laundrette. I hated the idea of a laundrette, having to sit in uncomfortable purgatory where there’s nothing you can do but wait. There is no way out, you just have to sit and watch as your clothes are slowly cleaned. The first 10 minutes are the worst. Then you relax into it, it becomes familiar, it becomes peaceful. By the time I left, I didn’t want to go.

When I got home and put the sheets that were still somehow warm from the dryer on my bed, my sister called.

“It’s time to come home.” She said, “He’s had enough.”

A few trains later, and I’m back home. I hate coming back sometimes and seeing all the change; my parents have a new car, there’s new coffee shops, and soon one of my favourite reasons for coming isn’t going to be here anymore.

Coming through the door, he’s always on the other side waiting. He smiles up at me, panting and old but still him. His tail still wagging.

“Has no one told you yet? You’re supposed to be dying.” I say softly to Bruno, this is something we’ve said to him a lot over the last year.

He got diagnosed with lymphoma last Summer. He was given 2-4 months so as each month passed with baited breath we felt incredibly lucky to be given more time with him. He made it to his own birthday, and then to my sisters, and then to mine. Around the same time we found about his tumours, we also found out about mine being back. As I recovered from my surgery, he lay next to me. Then, he made it to Christmas and then to New Year. Even when he struggled to get up, he still greeted everyone that came into his home and played with my nephew. He was brave and strong.

“He’s like a horse!” People would say as he’d gallop around the place, a gentle giant. He had these huge paws and legs. A boxer but he was bigger than most. He used to jump and put his paws up on our shoulders and we could dance around the kitchen with him.

My parents were never dog people; we begged for a puppy ever since I could remember. They’d say how we’d have to walk him everyday, get up and feed him, love him even when we were tired - ‘what a privilege that would be’, we’d think.

So, like always, my sister made my dreams come true when she was eighteen. I was thirteen and she brought home this tiny horse - and two became three. We’d do everything all together. He’d sit on my lap in the front seat of the car with the window down, the wind harsh in his face but he’d never look away. He was supposed to sleep in the kitchen, then he was supposed to at least stay downstairs, then he spent every night for the next decade side by side next to my sister in bed every night.

My parents fell in love with Bruno the same way everyone that met him did. My Mum that hated dog hair and slobber took photos of him curled up on her sofa and in her bed. My Dad’s best friend, they’d go on long walks and he became the happiest glue to a family I’ve ever seen. Turns out I think we were a dog family after all.

All of Bruno’s friends and family came to see him for his last weekend at my sister’s house. If love was enough to save him, he would’ve lived forever. Life had changed a lot in the last decade since she’d bought him home. She’d moved houses, she’d had a baby, she’d got a new job; but Bruno stayed calm and kind. You couldn’t go anywhere in the house without him following next to you, as he got older and his legs got tired, he’d lean gently against you to keep himself upright. After he passed, I went to get a glass of water and was so aware of the space around my legs. No one to look down and smile at, just empty space where my dog should be.

As a repayment from the universe, we were given a weekend of golden sun; I like to think it was a soft welcome home for him. He got to sit in his favourite chair looking out the window all day on Sunday. When he was younger, he’d run up it and bark at people going about their day. Now, he’d pull himself up and sit calmly, overseeing the world.

With every person we’d walk past in our small town that commented on the weather, I’d want to say;

“Yeah, that’s for my dog.” And it really felt like it. A sun ray shining wherever he decided to walk. I liked the idea that somewhere in the world, someone was bringing their baby home for the first time and they were thinking how the sun was shining just for them too. That’s how special a good dog can make you feel.

In the evening, we took Bruno to see his last sunset in the park and it was the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen in my life. We sat on the bench we normally do and watched as the sky burned orange. We let him off the lead and let him walk free. He didn’t go too far, forever turning back to see we’re still close to him.

“We couldn’t have been luckier,” We all said.

Humans are so funny for how we fall in love with those we know we can’t keep forever. Boxers have these tiny hearts and are only given a life expectancy of around 10 years. It feels like an eternity outstretched when they’re tiny, then all of a sudden your time is up. It’s almost enough to make you not want to love again. But it’s what we do, isn’t it? Keep loving and keep losing. I think maybe this makes them the lucky ones; all my dog ever knew was love. He’ll never have to lose.

‘Be where your feet are’ is a lesson I’m given often, and last weekend was no exception. Sometimes you have to sit in the sadness and find peace there. How many times are we sat in the same room with our friends and family with a true appreciation of how lucky we are to have those hours together.

This isn’t a sad story, it’s a love story. One of the greatest acts of love I have ever seen was my beautiful sister knowing him so much that it was time to let him go. Even if she wasn’t ready, even if none of us were. To be loved by my sister is to be the luckiest in the whole world. They say we write about life to taste it twice, and so I will write about Bruno for the rest of my life.

As we drove to the vets, Wild Horses by The Rolling Stones played and letting go of our soul dog felt like we were doing right by him, as he had done for us so many times.

Bruno passed peacefully on Monday 3rd March, 2025 at 4:40pm next to his family, surrounded by all he’s ever known - love.