Brutus

In 2019, we were on our way back from spring break when Cheryl, who Beatrix had interned with at GiffyDog, reached out to us about fostering a pomeranian (since she knew Beatrix loved the breed). The day we got back, the person who had been fostering him brought him over. Brutus sauntered in, grabbed a rawhide as long as he was that Coya had been chewing, and settled in next to me in the chair. Patrick says "I knew at that point he was never leaving." And he didn't.

He got the name "Brutus Brewpup" when, as we initially had him and thought we should expose him to people who might want to adopt him, we took him out to a taproom and found he LOVED it.

Pretty soon, taking him to taprooms turned into a regular pastime.

But he liked other things too.

He loved Christmas:

And Halloween:

And springtime:

And snow, especially the first snowfall:

And really winter in general:

He loved to go up to the cabin (and I'm so glad we got to go up this last weekend):

And to sunflower fields:

He adored his dog siblings, even when they barely tolerated him and his love of life:

He promoted local authors:

And politicians:

And raised funds for rescues:

He loved rawhides, and playing fetch with tennis balls:

He looked adorable with a lot of fur, and also when he was groomed:

By this year he had gone blind, and he was slowing down a lot. His near-drowning last month did not help. But he was still a happy dog who loved to be with us. We drove back from the cabin today with him on my hap, and as we hit the outskirts if Minneapolis, something changed, and he started to have labored breathing and feel limp in my lap. By the time we got home, he could barely lift his head, and so I took him to the emergency vet while Beatrix and Patrick went to rehearsal. There I met with the vet, who said there was really nothing they could do, that even trying to see what they could address would cost thousands of dollars (on top of the 3K we had dropped this summer alone), and probably not result in a good quality of life for the few weeks or months it kept him going. So there, I made the difficult choice to let him go. We sat for some time in a room together with me holding him and telling him how much I loved him.

Brutus was a small dog, but there is an enormous hole in my heart right now that does not feel like it will ever heal. I already miss you so much, buddy.