That he was beautiful. And Brilliant. That he loved his Frisbee and Pork Loins. And snuggling. And me. Once when he specifically lumped me with those other items, I asked him what the order was, and he replied, smiling, “Alphabetical.” At the time I smiled too. But now I sit and wonder whether he was listing me by my first name - in which case I would trail Frisbee – or by my last name, in which case I would edge in there between Pork Loins and Snuggling. Either way I don’t come first, which for some stupid reason bothers hell out me, having grown up with the notion that I always had to be number one.
(The above is stolen from Erich Segal and adjusted to reflect my “Love Story”)
On Tuesday, November 26, 2019, I let Peyton go. The good news is that we didn’t wait too long. There was no undo suffering required of him in order to placate my inevitable heart break. For the last two years the arthritis in his right hip has prevented our running Manning/Wayne frisbee football routes in the backyard. However, even losing his favorite athletic hobby never diminished the smile on his face. There is no exaggeration… Peyton Skiver was the smilingest dog that has ever been. He wore his joy on his face, and his life was one of pure happiness. He was born beautiful, and he was an industrial sized magnet that pulled people to him to dote on his sweet nature and touch his silky, soft fur. Even people who were not dog lovers found they were unable to resist their attraction to Peyton.
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| (The first picture of Peyton upon arriving home on his first day) |
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| (Peyton recreating his epic first photo shoot) |
As a puppy Peyton was something of a media darling when I wrote about him and his predecessor (Simon) in the April 2008 issue of Popular Woodworking. That article expressed my doubt that Peyton could ever replace the love and loss of Simon, and as recently as last year I still receive email from strangers telling me how that article impacted them and reminded them of their lost partners. As the readers of my woodworking blog witnessed Peyton grow through his puppy time, it soon became obvious that he not only healed my pain over losing Simon, but Peyton raised the bar on what love and devotion for a canine child could be. And trust me… that bar was already amazing high before this beautiful boy came along.
In April of this year, it became too difficult for me to carry 100 squirming pounds of Peyton up and down the 16 stairs to the second floor morning and night, and we set up camp on the main floor. For 7 ½ months every night at Stately Wayne Manor has been spent with Gail and me sleeping on the floor on an air mattress with him on a twin mattress pressed next to us. Occasionally, I would roll off the inflated slab and spoon with him on the twin mattress. Either way, he and I were always together.
As the old saying goes, “Friend are Friends, and Pals are Pals, but Buddies sleep together.” During these “bonus days” since April, Peyton continued to be his normal happy self. He ate; he slept; he pooped; he snuggled; and he always SMILED.
A few weeks ago we found that his arthritic leg had a growth that was not like the normal fibroids that one finds on old labs, and the vet confirmed that he had bone cancer. We knew the bonus days were drawing to a close. He still ate, slept, pooped, and smiled; and we decided to take it day by day. Then, on Saturday, November 23rd, rather suddenly Peyton stopped smiling and even ignored his food.
So, on Sunday morning I told him that I was going to let him go. As if acknowledging his agreement to move on from this version of his time on Earth, he SMILED. He smiled at me and then ate his food, and he spent the next three days in good form lying at my feet and smiling at me.
On his final day, I fought back tears and asked him once again what was the order of the things he loved, and he repeated, “Alphabetical.” Then he added, “to me you’re not Jeff Skiver. To me, you are Dad. And Dad comes before Frisbee, Pork Loin, and Snuggling. Dad is the center of my world.”
My face was the last thing Peyton saw as he closed his eyes on Tuesday, but he and I both knew the separation will only be temporary. Just as Simon came back to me as Peyton, I know that Peyton will return to me. In a few months we will go pick out Nico Schumacher Skiver, and though he will look different, my boy will return to me. He will likely be a media darling on Instagram, and even non-dog people will dote on him. However, his focus will be on me as opposed to how many social media followers he has. And the next cycle of this Dog-Dad love story will renew, once again proving that true love never ends, even when separation or death comes between two souls who are joined.
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| On our way home the day we got him, stopping at the store to buy a tiny collar, tiny kennel, and a treat. |
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| Judging from the Blackberry this was home from Brazil during the days at Technicolor. He always wanted to be as close to me as he could get. |
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| Ours was always a wet, sloppy kiss kind of love. (And it went both ways.) |
I love you, Peyton. I always have. I always will.
