thehendricksonpost/floppy-eared-wonder-dog/ Parents Name: Priscilla Pets Name: Lexi Pet Species: Dog Pets Favorite thing to do: Eulogy: You often hear how animals take after their guardians. Since first hearing this, I have seen truth in it numerous times. It is evident, just as children often take after their parents, that our connections with the animals we bring into our family create bonds that make the two inseparable in physical states but also between hearts. However, I still wonder just how much Lexi took after me when, in many ways, I strongly see the reverse. Maybe the old saying still rings true, though. I would often tell others I was Lexi’s guardian but truthfully, she was mine. And since I was 10 years old, I have faithfully took after her. I first met Lexi Lou Rader the day after my 10th birthday, when my sister, Lola, brought her home unexpectedly. She was only eight weeks old and my first impression of her was that she looked like a piglet; her spots had not deepened yet and her nose was not yet the black she later grew into. Her fur was white but her skin, pink. I oinked at her, half-expecting her to oink back. She fit into the palms of our hands and her collar was two sizes too big. I’m pretty sure so was her heart. She loved everyone and everything; she never met a stranger, she only met potential friends. This was the first lesson I learned from her. Treat everyone, including the rabbit that corners you and the big dog with a loud bark, as a potential friend. Treat everyone with love, and more importantly, with respect. Her tail was always wagging; our family called it a weapon, taking out filled glasses on the coffee table and hitting your knees like a whip. Lexi was a very happy dog and she consistently chose to share this happiness with just about everyone. “Choose happiness” I would later say. “Keep smiling” shortly followed. The two of us were always close, but it was not until my cat, Prince, died when I was 16, that we became absolutely inseparable. Lexi was six years old and my best friend. However, she remained a family dog: a dare devil, a protector, and as Ryan calls her, an “unintentional therapy dog.” I grew up building memories that included her; she plays a part in almost every good memory I can think of and, even now that she is gone, she will continue doing just that. I moved to Oregon in 2006 and she soon followed. It was in Oregon, during her ninth year, that I really began starting to take after her. Lexi was stoic, with strength and grace like no other. When she was two years old, she hopped over our fence, was hit by a car, received severe road rash to her under-belly and hind legs, hopped back over our fence, came into the room we all were playing games in, with her tail wagging. We hadn’t realized anything was wrong until Lola’s friend picked her up and we saw blood. She was still smiling, happy to be held, happy to be around her family. We rushed her to her vet, so afraid and in a state of panic. Her tail kept wagging and she kept flaunting that famous smile. I was twelve. Since then, I have seen Lexi go through so many obstacles with a brave face and a braver heart; she is where I learned my sense of strength from. I, again, took after her. We settled in Oregon, despite her loathing the cold, and we began a very happy life. It was the first time I lived on my own; it was the first time I was away from my family and my friends. But I had her. Lola told me a couple days ago the only reason she was comfortable with me moving so far away from everyone was because she knew Lexi was with me. And one thing my family had learned is that, with Lexi, I could do anything. We would cuddle every night in the cold apartment, and if I was feeling especially alone, she would move her head right up to mine, acting like a pillow, as a safety net. I would remember the way her head smelled. It would always bring me home. She had this intuitive way of understanding when someone was hurting – whether it was physical or mental, whether it was me or someone else – and doing whatever she could to comfort them. I have strived to do the same. She may have been a heater-hog, but I didn’t mind. She protected me; she kept me sane and safe. Some might know this but I doubt many do: the main reason for the beliefs I have on non-human animals, on equality, on the way I see the world, all came from Lexi. I had the inclination but she was my spark. I first became active in animal issues because of the treatment Lexi faced due to her breed. I spoke out against Breed Specific Legislation (BSL) and belonged to many groups which fought against these regulations. It was here where my roots come from. On walks, I would notice people crossing the street to avoid us. I noticed mothers who would allow their children to pet other dogs, but not mine (who adored children, even those whom would pull at her ears). We had difficulty finding a home which would accept her. I’ve had rude comments thrown at me, all the while their dogs barked and mine remained still. So I continued researching and I continued protesting against their ignorance and their intolerant structures, which I have come to find, kill thousands of dogs yearly based solely on the way they look. To me, Lexi looked partly like a cow. She acted like a human at times. And she had a better spirit about her than any other creature I’ve ever met. It was here I came to find my rabbit-hole; I climbed further into animal protection and issues, but regardless of which issue I am fighting or who I am trying to protect, it was Lexi who started it all. If I could look at my dog’s eyes and see an equal, it was not so hard for me to make a stretch and look into the eyes of others and see an equal. If I could notice the traits and quirks and preferences of my dog, the strength and the love and the commitment she had, the personality and the impact on others she carried with her, then it was not so hard for me to make a stretch and equate that this is not unique to my dog or her breed or even her species. Lexi Lou Rader was, without a doubt, one of a kind, but fundamentally, I learned from her that so are others. She was the first one I talked to about the things I believed; I would fear others would find me crazy or a radical. She would listen, or at least pretend, while she licked her pumpkin bone. I was able to think out loud all of the thoughts that were too jumbled inside my head to make sense of. I always brought them back to Lexi. Everything always came back to Lexi. She has seen me at both my best and my worst and, while others went away, she remained. We would jump on the bed together, she would make me run even on the hot days; I would make her obstacle courses inside the house when it was too cold to motivate her to stay outside. She was always well behaved during bath-time, but would do hot laps afterwards. She would dive into piles of laundry to get warm. My mom and I would always laugh at the way she would dodge and weave between us, desperate to remain the sole possessor of her toy. I have never been a competitive person, but I learned from her that sometimes, when it means the most to you, you do whatever it takes to keep what’s yours. The last couple years of her life, Lexi remained a puppy in her spirit and she made so many new friends. She loved rolling around on Pacific University’s grass and marching down Main St. with her pink bandana on, receiving so many compliments, smiling as big as she could. She was an ambassador, she was a saint (well, most of the time), she had all of these beautiful aspects of herself we all only wish we could be a part of. During a walk, Sam and I made up her theme song. “L to the E to the X to the I, it’s Lexi. L to the E to the X to the I, it’s little Lexi dog.” We would sing it as she trotted, her ears flopping and her hips shaking. She was Lexi the Wonder Dog. She was a super hero to us all. It was here I learned that super heroes do exist; they’re just hidden in the cleverest of places. Such as a dog whose shadow looked like a moose and who, after long walks, would snore louder than a train. I started believing that maybe, just maybe, she was invincible. Her last summer with us consisted of her only swimming when no one was watching and begging at the many BBQs we had. She had grandma to sneak her food and Emily to keep her playful. She had Princess to continue teaching and Daisy Mae to outwardly be grumpy towards but secretly snuggle with. She stayed outside to sunbathe and to soak in everything she could, barking at airplanes to warn us of their presence. She was with her family; she was home, where she will always belong. I do not wish to speak of her death except that she left us with her dignity, with her bravery, and with her strength I still can only half-hold a light to. We went to the park on her last day with us, and though she could no longer see, she lifted her head up to the sky to feel the sun. She smiled and sniffed the air and gently brushed her head against my leg. I struggled with not being able to explain to her what was happening, but I do not think it was necessary. She loved me more than I deserved and I loved her more than myself. The hours before, we took our last nap together. I always slept best with her next to me, now it will just be her blanket. But it smells like her and it continues to bring me home. As we lay on the floor of her vet’s office, I whispered in her ear. I made a promise to her to continue to help as many animals as I can; I told her she was beautiful and that, if I am fortunate enough, I will be able to see her again in full life. I do not know if this is the case; I do not know much of anything except that this dog, this wonderful creature, was my best friend and was a friend to so many others. I am certain that who I am would not be if it was not for her. I will ensure Lexi never actually leaves us because if we could all be like her in some way or another, we will be okay. We, too, will be beautiful. I want to thank every one of you who have shown support and love to Lexi, to me, and to my family. I especially wish to thank my mom for helping take such wonderful care of her and for sneaking her food she only could get from you; Lola for choosing her and bringing her into our family and for being one of her greatest companions; Emily for being brave, even at your age, and for showing her so much love and light; Sam for being one of her absolute best friends and for always, without question, being there for her; Trelaine for being one of the few I trusted her with and for never giving me any reason to worry while I was away, and for all the playtime antics you and her would pursue while I was getting ready, including the weird conversations you would have with her; Sierra for, despite being a cat person, being a great friend and protector and for letting her kiss you even when you really didn’t like it; Max for all the dog-food trips and for lying on the floor to let her kiss you, with her tail wagging and her slobber getting in your hair; Ryan for falling in love with her before falling in love with me and for treating her, even in the short time you two had together, like your own; Taylor for making Thanksgiving dinner for her and being one of her favorite new friends; Aaron for showing her Oregon with me and making so many amazing memories, and for caring for her and for always being on her side; Jason for all the love, memories, and bear-hugs you gave to her without fail; and lastly, Princess for being the best little Chihuahua sister she could ask for. There are so many memories to share and so many words I could say, but nothing will ever be enough. I am who I am because of her in so many ways and I will never give up or give in to dismissing the lessons she so rightfully taught me. She has changed the minds of many and she has impacted the lives of everyone she has met. I am so grateful to have shared such a large portion of my life with such a wonderful being and really, that is all this comes down to. Share, learn, live, love, and be happy for every moment. Lexi Lou Rader (AKA: Lexi Bear, Lexinator, Lexi the Wonder Dog, LoveBug, and Baby Girl) 01.10.1998 – 12.26.2012 - See more at: thehendricksonpost/floppy-eared-wonder-dog/#sthash.om6WTojZ.dpuf
Posted on: Fri, 05 Jul 2013 22:51:07 +0000
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