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RIP Fred, terrier of my life

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Fred died this morning. Not to speak ill of the dead or anything, it needs to be said that he was a bit of a narcissist. We were never close, and if I’m honest, I could hardly stand him. I’m also confident that he felt the same way towards me. And whereas my family is bereft at his passing, I probably won’t miss him.

Fred Feldman was a Yorkshire Terrier with plenty of attitude and no personality. He was self-absorbed and relentless, and would do anything for a piece of chicken breast. But nothing for schnitzel, because he hated to chew anything for himself.

Fred joined our family in a prisoner-swap deal that went down in Centurion outside Pretoria. The terms remain vague in my mind, but I know that it involved a road without a name, a house without a fence, and a handler with a heavy accent and legs with more varicose veins than I thought was possible. I do recall that we were required to leave my daughter’s “Nuk” dummies in her dustbin in exchange for a six-week-old puppy that would torment me for the next 13 years. Had I known then what I know now, I would gladly have offered my three-year-old a lifetime supply of whatever colour she preferred and an orthodontal treatment plan.

Parenting is seldom easy, but the morning of Fred’s passing was particularly difficult. I had carried him downstairs at about 04:00 as I normally do (he hated to walk so early in the day), and I had taken him outside, where he did nothing but wait to come inside (preferring to use my study for his ablutions). I had cut him some chicken breast (schnitzel not being his thing) and then went to do some work (me, not Fred). Although he normally nagged me to pick him up and put him on the couch (he didn’t like to jump up), he didn’t do that this morning.

It was toward the end of my radio show when I got the message from my daughter that he had shuffled off the mortal coil. In truth, I was surprised, more than anything because he had done something for himself. I left the studio as soon after my show ended, but noticed that the day was distinctly warmer, and the sun was shining that little bit brighter than the day before. I’m certain that I wasn’t imagining it.

I didn’t need to be a body language expert to interpret the look on my wife’s face when I walked into the house. It contained a written warning that suggested exactly what was expected from me. I needed to be supportive and contrite. And sad. No humour. No jokes. And definitely no celebration. I didn’t seek clarity on the duration that the edict would be in place. Which in retrospect might have been a mistake.

I’m not going to win any parenting awards this week.

After 18 months of excess death, sickness, of watching friends and family suffer through isolation and anxiety, this morning was a welcome reminder. It was a day reminiscent of a time when we would focus on the loss of a pet, the sadness of a girl who lost a companion. It was a reminder of a time when we would drive to Centurion to find a road without a name, a house without a fence, and a heavily accented woman with varicose veins. I also know that as much as he annoyed me, tomorrow morning at 04:00, I will miss picking up that selfish Yorkshire Terrier, carrying him downstairs, and cutting him chicken breasts because he never liked schnitzel.

8 Comments

  1. Wendy Kaplan Lewis

    July 22, 2021 at 11:18 am

    So humouress
    Delightful
    How you always put a smile on ones face

  2. Denise Abrahams

    July 22, 2021 at 11:29 am

    Fred’s dead 😂😂😂 May he Rest In Peace in doggy heaven .. I’m sure he will be waiting for you ..” every dog that’s ever loved you will be waiting in heaven for you “

  3. Mike Jankelowitz

    July 22, 2021 at 11:32 am

    You have an amazing way of writing.
    Even though you had little time for the dog, you realised that his death is as meaningful as any and all others. And mostly, death plagues our hearts and minds during this Apocalyptic time.
    We cry because of how we will be adversely affected and for those who are left behind, to suffer the loss.
    If only we really knew that life continues on the other side in a better way? But we dont.
    So we mourn the deaths here and hold our breaths on who is next…..

  4. Louis k

    July 22, 2021 at 1:20 pm

    Lovely and very well written…louis k

  5. Desiree Levin

    July 22, 2021 at 6:40 pm

    No matter how much you enjoy in life, this memory of Fred will never die and will be the greatest honour you can ever bestow upon a pet, a member if your family.. Wishing you all a content life as was that of Fred.

  6. Deanna Isaacs

    July 22, 2021 at 7:17 pm

    Always enjoy your articles a little humour goes a long way in these times eventhough there is sadness in what you wrote keep it up I understand your writing

  7. Gerald

    July 22, 2021 at 7:21 pm

    beautiful thoughts Howard. I love your little essay.

  8. Gerald Seftel

    July 22, 2021 at 7:22 pm

    beautiful thoughts Howard. I love your little essay.

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