With Love to My Dear Arthur

Our family lost our beloved dog Arthur on March 16, 2021. I am so sad, still. It was too soon. He was born on September 26, 2009, and he met the sky to be with his big sister Bailey this spring, just shy of five months after she died.

Life sometimes just does things like this with no explanation and yeah, I know, he's a dog. I know during Covid we've all lost a lot of humans, so I like to speak in "dog" a little more quietly. With that, I haven't written his eulogy yet here it goes.

Arthur joined our family in November, 2009, when Josh and I were in that "just married but not ready to have a baby phase," so while Bailey was my first baby, Arthur was our first. We mistakenly believed that Bailey would serve as a mother figure for Arthur.

Anyone who knows our family will laugh at that idea. From the moment she met him, she was his slightly bullying older sibling who took great care of him and loved him, but put him in his place without hesitation.

Arthur loved to sing. He hated to waste food. In fact, the only thing he ever declined to put inside of his mouth in his younger years was cilantro.

My gourmand.

In his later years, he slimmed down a little, got in a bit more of a hierarchy rhythm with his big sis, Bailey, where they understood their boundaries and just truly loved and relied upon one another as the best siblings can.

When she died in October, he got really confused and licked the floor all around the space where her bed was. He did that for two days. And then he became my grief partner.

I gotta say, I've never had a better grief partner than Arthur. He laid next to me at night, took my tears in stride, walked with me anywhere I wanted to go, ran with me around the block as many times as I wanted, and stood firm and bravely, during his own grief, to help me get through mine.

In January, a couple months after he welcomed his little sister Margene who he was in the process of full on fraternity hazing, we booked him for a dental visit that required blood work and they found elevated liver enzymes that led to an ultrasound, that led to a CT scan, that led to a terminal cancer diagnosis.

We just didn't know it would happen so fast.

So my little Bug and I, and Josh, Magnus, and Axel, and new puppy Margene, hung in, did the chemo, herbs, all of it -- and tried to make every day of his life the best day. I hope we did. Friday he lost the ability to walk and was paralyzed from the waist down. Last week he ran around the block with me.

On that terrible sunny spring day in Brooklyn, we let him go to be with Bailey and all of the better pandemic-free fun and food in heaven. Margene has a helluva big job to carry the torch of my team.

All of this is to say: Arthur Anne Ross Newville, you beautiful cherished perfect choir boy. We love you as much as you think we do, and then way more than that. Mama will see you on the other side and when I get there I will have only thanks for your steadfast love for me for so long and through so much bad stuff. You are everything, my sweet boy. In the meantime, please take comfort in Bailey's embrace tonight. Sleep in her nook. Tell her your Filet Mignon is not hers (I bet there's enough to go around) and if she says no, pro tip - just take some of hers while she's not looking.

I love you, Arthur. Take every bit of my love with you. It will help with the confusion. XO