Aug. 1, 2016, 2:08 a.m.
I was thirty years old when I decided once and for all that I would get a dog. My parents always said that dogs were too much work, so we did not grow up with one. I was a graduate student in Boulder, Colorado at the time, where dogs are often treated with more respect than humans. I had a boyfriend and friends, but I was lonely nevertheless. Yearning for companionship, unconditional love, the future. I found Trinidad through the Colorado Correctional Industries Prison Trained K-9 Companion Program. Before coming to live with me, he spent time living in a cell with two different inmates (in the Trinidad Correctional Facility, in Model, CO), who cared for him and tried to show him how to behave in the world.
Boyfriend and I drove down to southern Colorado on a Saturday morning in late August, 2006 to meet three different dogs that I'd selected from their online profiles. Only two of the three made it to meet me that morning, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway. The minute I met Trin (nee Clayton), I knew he and I were meant to be in one another's lives. We went on a short "interview" jog across a long dirt parking lot that morning, and he jumped and panted with glee. After that, we were soulmates. And during the long drive back to Boulder with Trin in the backseat, I remember feeling shock at the realization that I was suddenly responsible for another beating heart, another soul.
I desperately wanted him to be the kind of dog who fit right in with any crowd. And for the first few months, he was. I brought him to parties and took him on runs. He often accompanied me on errands, hanging out in the back of my 1999 green Corolla when he wasn't allowed inside. Initially, I took him to school with me, as so many of my classmates did. And it was here, in the Muenzinger Psychology Building at CU Boulder, that he bit my colleague Adrine one morning, after she had entered my office and Trin's space, when I was downstairs with a client. She handled it graciously and gracefully, and to this day I have deep gratitude and regard for Adrine and her actions in the days following, as things could have gone a lot differently. Trinidad went on to bite three more people in the span of two weeks time. The last was a boy (maybe 10 years old) on a bike in Moab, Utah. Amidst all the biting, I had made a split second decision to take Trin with me (rather than leave him at a kennel) on a cycling trip with a team (GS Boulder) which I'd recently joined. Brian Christopher Overstreet, as it turns out, was also a member of that cycling team and on that trip. I offered Brian a ride back to Boulder in the Corolla with me and Trin, and he accepted. He was 23, I was 30, and I thought that this car trip would likely be our one and only date. After all, what woman dates someone seven years her junior? What would we possibly talk about during a multi-hour car trip? And Trin, how could Brian possibly like Trin? My enduring memory from that drive back to Colorado is of Brian's sitting in the passenger seat and holding Trinidad's head gently in his lap, warmly rubbing his head. No worry or concern that this canine had recently gone on a biting spree across the greater Rocky Mountain region. Just acceptance. Of Trinidad. Of me.
Brian and I together formed "Team Protect-Trinidad-from His-Own-Fear-of-the-World" after that. We all got to know each other, and we all fell in love. We came to understand that Trinidad was fearful of many things in the world. And when he was fearful and without a plan of escape, he aggressed. It was our job, we realized, to protect Trinidad from himself. Hug him when he was afraid. We bought a plastic muzzle and leashed him fiercely. Dogs off leash became our biggest enemies, as Trin was afraid and aggressive with most. We took him running on trails with the fewest other creatures. He never again went to a party.
Over the years, Trinidad had three real friends. The first was Piper, Heather Gelhorn's dog. Trin was mesmerized with Piper's quickness and antics (not unlike my attraction to Heather), and I remember with warmth and glee Piper and Trin trying desperately to be the first to jump and bite the flashlight from Heather's hands. His second friend was Bonnie, an old dog belonging to my landlords when I lived up in the foothills. Bonnie and Trin would run and play in circles in the dirt yard on Alaska Road. It is here that Brian and I have beautiful memories of Trinidad diving in and out of snow banks, happier than we had ever seen him. Trin's last friend was Jack, again an older dog that belonged to our landlords who lived in the house above us on Lakeview Way in Emerald Hills, a subdivision of Redwood City to which we moved when we first came to California. Trin thought Jack was amazing and would follow him everywhere attempting to impress him.
Trinidad waited in the green Corolla while we got married, on a rainy February 26th in 2010, at the San Francisco Courthouse. He stayed with us in a hotel that night and went on our "honeymoon" run in the East Bay hills the next day. When Zander was born, he was confused. But he shifted and accommodated, learning that his role in the family had expanded to include protecting a baby. He welcomed first Aila, and then Declan, with ease. In the last few years of his life, he was often caught fighting with Zander as though they were brothers at odds. "Mama," Zander would say, "Trin bite me," I'd look at Trin, who looked sheepish, then at Zander who would be grabbing his arm or leg in horror. Upon inspection, there was never a mark or a bite, and they'd go on playing together like two peas in a pod.
Last June (in 2015), right after my mother died in late May, Brian noticed that Trinidad was drinking a ton of water. We thought that he maybe had a virus or an infection. I was taking a walk with Declan around the neighborhood when Brian called from the vet's office to tell me that Trin was being diagnosed with cancer, specifically anal sac adenocarcinoma. The vet estimated that he had about two months to live. We considered surgery and chemo, but it seemed like this aggressive cancer would eventually kill him anyway. We instead opted to take him on wagon rides around the neighborhood and reminisce fondly about his life. Until August 8th, when we took Aila to the ER and our leukemia journey began.
Trinidad Clayton Cosgroverstreet lived thirteen months past his diagnosis, until last Sunday, July 24th, 2016. He stayed with us and loved us during the very worst part of Aila's chemotherapy. Somehow he knew that we needed him to hang on, that we could not take any more pain. On Thursday, he had stopped eating. By Friday, he had refused to drink water or stand up at all. He drank a bit out of the toilet on Saturday morning before collapsing back to the ground. I emailed the hospice vet in the very early hours of Saturday, and she offered to come by on Sunday morning. His life ended in our backyard, with Brian and I holding him together.
There are simply no words to describe how I feel and will always feel about Trinidad or what I learned from spending a quarter of my life with him. I couldn't have written this post earlier this week, as I couldn't stop weeping. Unconditional love. Overwhelming gratitude for sharing his spirit, his energy, his emotion, his vulnerability. For eating every piece of salmon that he stole, barking at every UPS delivery man, chasing every dog who crossed his path. For wet kisses and sweet excitement when we returned home each day. For loving to run as much as I do. For loving and accepting us for who we are.
We will always love you and will miss you, every single day until the end of our time. The house has been so quiet this week, even with three small children running around. Zander (perhaps not surprisingly) took your death very hard this past week, refusing to go to camp on Monday and insisting on carrying a picture of you with him in his backpack the rest of the week. Aila was on steroids (so abjectly crazy), but her steroid "rant" (the one she screams in the wee hours of the morning when she is pacing around the house with demon eyes, refusing to sleep or let her parents rest) this go-around was, over and over, "I want the dog come back."
Comments
Chris 8 years, 4 months ago
A beautiful, beautiful dog and a lovely tribute. Thank you, Vic. Thank you.
Link | ReplyGrace 8 years, 4 months ago
Sweet, sweet tribute to Trinidad. He was a wonderful family member who will be dearly missed. Thank you for sharing his story. Hugs, Love and continued prayers friend!
Link | ReplySarah 8 years, 3 months ago
Thank you for sharing Trinidad's beautiful story. Your cousins back east are following, praying, and wishing to be with you every step of this journey. Peace and love to Trin. Hugs, kisses, and blessings to ALL of you.
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