nor speak of me with tears,
But laugh and talk of me
as if I were beside you...
I loved you so--
'twas Heaven here with you.
Isla Pascshal Richardson
Our Bismarck:
He was a Newfie with an unusual personality, tearing through the house, jumping on the table for a better look outside, chasing squirrels and opossums. His eyes were large and sparkled with curiosity--his face said a lot about our Bismarck. He had a unique larger than life spirit and an almost palpable and irrepressible charm. He was unusually bright, always curious and continually in trouble. Tragically, he did not have a chance: Among other serious problems, he had terrible hips: "very straight femoral necks" missing the natural curve in BOTH hips. Because of this the balls of the joint "subluxate upon weight bearing," i.e., the balls of the joint come out (not dislocate) slightly when he puts weight on them. It is a rare skeletal condition that has been observed before, but it can only corrected with "a pretty major surgery that is not often done" (to re-curve the bones).
Then he blew the ligaments in one knee, with the other sure to follow and his front legs where not what they should be, either (forelimb anomaly). In the last weeks he could not get up on his own and we had to lift him up. His condition kept deteriorating while he tried to move around the house on his elbows. A wonderful, wonderful Newfie boy without a future. Oh, if love could only be a healer, ours would have made him well. If love could have only protected him from pain and misery, ours would have been enough for his entire Newfie life.
We cherished our time with him, his antics during the day and his snoring next to our bed at night. He would join Kathee and crawl up on the love seat in the library and, while he got his ears scratched, watch TV with her or have his snuffely, snorty nose wrestling fights with Uma. Bismarck was our very special sweetheart.
We love everyone of our 3 Newfies as if they were our children and losing one cuts very, very deeply. Seeing him suffer without any real expectation of relief was unbearable. After long conversations and consultations with our veterinarian we had to make a decision. The fact that even operations would be unlikely to make him whole and that he would have to endure incredible pain, led us to the decision that we had to let him go. Our Bismarck left us last Friday. There was a couch in "room number seven" at the veterinary clinic and he crawled on it, laid his seven feet down and put his head into Kathee’s lap and, while she was holding him, went to sleep. Peacefully. He was at home and comfortable. Bismarck has left us, leaving a big void in our little family. He was a joy, he was a child. He was like no other and the pain, the tears, the memories remain. Poor Uma is totally depressed and afraid to be alone. She followed us around all weekend and needed more affection and hugging than ever. We feel the same way.
At least we know that he is now in a better place, running without pain and forever chasing squirrels. We know that he’ll be waiting for us in a better world. In the meantime, he’ll always be with us and every tear we cry is just for him. We'll all get over it, but we will never, never, ever forget our Bismarck: a piece of our heart will always be with him. He was a very, very special little big person with a rare personality and a truly unusual vitality and charm. Tragically he never had a chance and neither did we. The next time a Newfie needs help, we'll be there again--but there will never be another Bismarck.
Bill Kiesselbach, April 27, 2003.
