Losing Clarence

Clarence “Clare the Bear” June was our 16 year old 100 pound black lab.

When he came to live with us, he was already 14. We thought he would only live a few more months. I tried at first not to get too attached. If he was only passing through on his way to the rainbow bridge, I thought, maybe that would be safer, emotionally. Anyway, I was always strictly a cat person.

Over our two plus years with Clarence, his hind legs weakened and he would often have spells of seeming tired and grumpy. Mike was constantly trying to prepare for the worst, but time and again Clare Bear beat the odds and rose again to pant and smile and do his weird, “I want to go out” dance at us. The dance looked like a horse standing up on its hind legs, except much less elegant. I think even in his youth Clare Bear must have been a bit “galump-y”.

He was raised as an “only puppy” and had learned to play ball with himself: he’d pick up the tennis ball in his mouth, toss it in the air, catch it (sometimes) and then go lie down again . He seemed to want us to scratch his belly because he’d lie down on his side when we crouched near him, but when we did the actual scratching, he maintained a serious face. We called them “business rubs”.

He’d follow me around whether I seemed open to that or not, preferring the white rug in my office to any other spot in the house. He was excited when I got home, horse dancing all over the place in joyful abandon. There’s something about being loved relentlessly by someone who doesn’t seem to be deterred by your moods or practiced aloofness. How could I resist? I loved Clarence.

And that’s the beauty and tragedy of having a pet. We let them in (who wouldn’t?) and we ache like hell when their brief lives have to end. Clare Bear developed an extremely rare and aggressive form of cancer that first appeared to just be another fatty deposit, barely the size of a golf ball, but over the course of three days swole to the size of a baseball. After a week of some pretty strong pain meds, it was time to let go.

I wept like a war widow for days. So did Mike. There’s a 100 pound hole in our house. Stripes the cat stayed under the sink for three days curled up in a tight ball. We all miss him terribly.

But we’re so grateful. Someone once told me the whole point of relationships is to learn. I learned unconditional love means you just accept the pain you will feel when they are gone. And hopefully enjoy the business rubs while you have them.

I’ll be at ArtsCenter Carrboro May 17th with Grammy winning guitarist Charles Newkirk. And - this is important - if you’re planning to come, please buy your tickets in advance. It really helps the venue and artist plan ahead! Click the pic for tickets. 🎟️