Expressway: Goodbye to a faithful friend

Reader Christine Benvengo lives in Islip.

When my husband and I settled into our first house, we were eager to start a family. Married just a year, we were not ready for children, but wanted a dog. One snowy January day in 1998, John called me from Bideawee Animal Shelter in Wantagh to meet a German shepherd-Doberman pinscher puppy with huge pointy ears. The 6-month-old pup was timid and seemed a bit scared, but there was something special about him. He was the dog for us. We brought him home and we became a family.

Gunner, the name my husband gave him, had his quirks. He balked at walking on any floor that wasn't carpeted and hated car rides and other dogs. He would sneak up from behind to pull the ponytail holder from my hair with his teeth and then run away. He also loved to eat tissues and chew on rocks. To waken me, he wouldn't bark, but would gently poke me with his nose. Gunner would lie everywhere except on his doggy bed. For a few years, he refused to eat from his bowl; we had to pour food on a mat on the floor. He was unique; we loved him and he loved us.

Gunner was very protective of his family. If you didn't live with us or take care of him (like my parents occasionally did), Gunner didn't like you. He had a very intimidating bark, and in his prime, was strong, fast and muscular. He could tell by the sound of your car whether you belonged in our driveway. If you didn't belong, he barked and growled to let you know. The letter carrier even refused to deliver our mail once, because he was afraid Gunner would jump through the screen door.

We now have two children, the first one born three years after we got Gunner. Due to his "quirks," some worried if Gunner would behave with our children. But he was gentle and loving, even protective. When people came to see our oldest daughter when she was a baby, Gunner would lay in front of her crib.

Gunner blessed us with loyalty, companionship and unconditional love for 12 1/2 years. He greeted us with his wagging tail every day. We went for walks, played in the yard, and were a family. He cheered us up when we were down and shared in our joy when we were happy.

As he got older, his legs became weak, and he became tired. Gunner's sharp eyesight and keen hearing were fading. We went for shorter walks and played less. As Gunner grew weaker, John and I discussed how we didn't want Gunner to suffer should he become ill, yet we didn't want to have to make the decision to end his life, as so many pet owners must do. Nonetheless, we tried to prepare ourselves for that day since Gunner was approaching his 13th birthday (making him about 91 in human years).

Little did we know that even with his last breath, Gunner was still protecting us. He ended up dying on his own terms, when he knew it was his time to go. Gunner kept us from having to make that heart-wrenching decision.

After midnight on July 4, Gunner wasn't acting like himself. He was whimpering and breathing heavy, and wanted to go outside. I knew what was coming. They say it's in a dog's nature to go away to find a spot to die alone.

Gunner walked around our backyard for more than an hour. I watched him with tears in my eyes as he moved from one inconspicuous place to the next. But, amazingly, Gunner returned to the door, waiting for me to let him back into his home.

Gunner died peacefully on the morning of July 5 at the foot of my bed. When Gunner took his last breath, I was lying with him, caressing his face and talking to him. I wanted Gunner to leave this Earth knowing that he was loved . . . and I know that he did.