Remembering Otis

Remembering Otis

Otis died on this very day, six years ago. It was a Monday.

Otis was my best friend ever. I’ve never had a better one.

But how can I tell you about a friendship that lasted more than a decade so you will understand? There were so many things Otis and I did together.

All the memories come flooding back.

Walking along the wooden boardwalk — the one that winds through the most beautiful forest — we’d share the seasons – all of them – winter, summer, spring, and fall. Just the two of us spending the days of our lives… together.

I don’t think Otis had many friends before I met him. Actually, I know he didn’t. So, I like to think I saved him from a lonely and bitter fate.  No one seemed to like him, although I couldn’t really figure out why. He was an awesome companion and friend.

A more loyal friend no man ever had – I can tell you that.

The day I met Otis was an ordinary day in the life. There was nothing special about that day until I walked into the room and saw him for the first time.

The first time I saw him I felt an amazing connection. I looked into his big brown eyes and, to me at least, they looked so sad. I guess it was his eyes that reached into me and touched something in my heart and then my heart took over.

Whatever it was, it was real.

Not too long after I met Otis, he moved in with me. Most of the people I knew – notice I didn’t use the word “friends” there –  didn’t think it would work out. But I knew in my heart it would.

Otis didn’t have a job and didn’t bring in any income, but I let him stay with me because he was a friend. Before too long, he became my best friend. Though people thought Otis and I would never remain friends, our friendship grew stronger. Soon, there came a time when there was nothing Otis would not do for me and nothing I would not do for him.

In the summer, we developed an evening routine. We’d take our walking along the serpentine path in the woods, but then, at the last curve, we’d take a shortcut to the ice cream place. The ice cream place was called “The Igloo”… but to Otis and me it was just the ice cream place.

Just about every night in the summer, I’d buy Otis a vanilla ice cream cone. It was fun watching him eat it. He loved ice cream so much; it almost looked like he ate the entire ice cream cone – cone and all – in one huge bite. I may be exaggerating, but not by much, and only to make a point.

Otis loved his ice cream.

Another thing I remember about Otis was that he was curious. Sometimes, to the point of annoying me. My weight has always been a problem, so walking to me was for exercise, not just for the beautiful seasonal scenery along the path. But for Otis, whose weight was never a problem, his curiosity always got the best of him. Every bug, every butterfly, every falling leaf, or out-of-place log, captured his attention. He would stop and investigate, while I walked on until I realized that Otis had veered off the path to check out something he found interesting.

Then, I’d turn around and go back and wait for Otis to finish his inspection, then on we’d go. Of course, all this time I was not burning any calories – I started thinking that perhaps Otis didn’t mind me being overweight — or “obese” as some of my doctors described it on my records. Heck, how can 20 pounds overweight be obese?

I was often jealous that Otis, with his high metabolism, could eat ice cream cones every single summer night and stay slim and trim, but not me!  No ice cream cones for me. While Otis ate ice cream, I sat there drinking a $2 bottle of certified spring water that probably sprang up from some city’s water supply and was triple-filtered to remove the junk and chlorine, so they could sell it as spring water and make more money. But water of any type is not the same as an ice cream cone, I can vouch for that.

Otis was a dear friend and I loved him so much. Every day of every season, he was by my side. My friend. My companion. My buddy. My Pal.

Otis was black with dark brown eyes. He was full of energy and he was full of love. Otis died on Monday, six years ago. One of the saddest days of my life was the day I buried him… and said a final, tearful goodbye to Otis… my best friend for more than fifteen years.

Otis was just a dog,  but I will never, ever, forget him.