Missing Brody

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Brody and big brother, Sam.

Brody and big brother, Sam.

A week ago this past Friday, Brody died of pneumonia. He apparently had it for the entire six weeks that he blessed this household with his big heart and huge personality.

He lived every moment of his life with gusto.  When he was afraid, he turned snarly. He thought he was the biggest dog in the world and if he didn’t like you, he tried to make you as afraid of him, as he was of you.

When he slept, he slept deeply.  He loved lying on his back in my lap and have his tummy rubbed.  His head would drop toward the floor, his eyes would roll back into his head, and he’d snore a little.

He ate like it was going out of style, afraid that someone might steal his treasure, but there was no food aggression.  He never tried to get Sam’s food away from him and never seemed to be jealous that Sam was getting more attention than he was.

He played the way he did everything else, emptying a large basket filled with toys in minutes, seeking out the noisiest squeakers he could find.  He’d roll on his back, flipping his chosen plaything up in the air, catching it in his mouth and between his paws.  The living room floor was always a maze of stuff that Brody brought out to play, and if I picked it all up and put it back in the basket, he’d immediately begin emptying the basket over again.

He was always happy to see me, running at full speed through the door and into my lap just the night before he died, after Bill had picked him up from “Doggy Daycare.”

He loved with every cell of his body, consuming those he loved with his deep, dark eyes and his smile. Mornings, I’d lean out of bed, open his crate, and he’d jump up on the bed, waking me with his kisses. He loved Miss Lily, the cat, with as much love as he had for Bill and I, and simply adored his big brother, Sam.

Except for some coughing and sneezing that became nonstop the night before he died, he never showed signs of being sick.  He ate well, played well, lived well.  He had been examined by at least three veterinarians and they never picked up that his lungs were filled with fluid. His presence and his passing have served to remind me of how all of us must live … with gusto … with love … taking nothing for granted.

We all miss you, Sweet Brody, but we know you’re up in heaven somewhere, amongst the other angels, Molly, Charlie, Peppermint, Hannah, and Cleo, who blessed our lives before you. We’re taking your cue to live well and will soon be welcoming another little doggy soul into the place you kept warm for him.


Brody, taking a nap.


  1. Some animals are like that. They don’t express their distress until they are in a really very terrible state and it’s too late or almost too late to help them. They are just troopers. I’m so sorry you lost such a sweet animal.

    • Thanks, Ashana. I’ve never had one like that. It was so shocking to discover he’d been ill for such a long time. Poor Baby. But he’s fine now.

      • My cat was like that when she developed cancer. If she hadn’t lost so much weight, I never would have known she was sick until it spread to her leg and she could no longer walk. She went around doing what she had always done until the last one or two weeks of her life. Just like people, some animals are big babies and others are stoic up until the last breath. It’s hard on us as their people because we are supposed to take care of them and keep them well, and we can’t if they don’t show us when they don’t feel well. But you do the best you can. And I know Brody must have loved his time with you.

  2. Brenda Neil says:

    Brody was lucky to have been loved so well for those six weeks!

  3. I have never cried so hard as when we lost Daisy. We only had her for a week when she died of Parvo. She had been picked up by the county wearing a little rhinestone jacket. If she had been that loved, why didn’t her owner get her Parvo shots and why did she get lost? I just don’t understand people who abuse their animals. I am so sorry for your loss, too. It sucks!

    • I’m with you on that. There is no excuse for mistreating or abusing animals. Thanks for your condolensces and sending mine to you. Yes, it sucks!

  4. Joan,

    I am so sorry to hear about Brody. I am so grateful that you opened your heart and your home to him where he could love and be loved full out for the short time he was with you.

    Sending love and light your way. Here’s to Brody and all of our pups that live on in our hearts…

  5. What a dog he was and what an attitude. Our red setter never lost her zest, even when she was getting older. Daft dogs that need long walks, she would tear off until she was completely worn out and her arthritic legs would give up. I spent many mornings as a teenager carrying her up the hill home, but she wouldn’t learn and I loved her for it.

    • Dogs are such wonderful creatures and they fill my memory with joy and attitude. I did love Brody for his attitude. What a teacher!

  6. I weep with you at the passing of Brody….but so glad that he had you for those joy filled weeks. Loved how you took this sadness and made such tribute to Brody. Yes, we could all learn to live like he did…..sending love and light to your family, may it begin to fill the void….

  7. I’m broken hearted about this, as I know you must be. But it must feel good to know he had such a warm and loving home with you. Bless his little heart…

  8. Becca, It does help me to know he was well taken care of and loved and that I made his last weeks a happy time for him.