Sir Bentley

Sir Bentley

When I look back on the year of my breakdown as I called it, I am amazed I made it through, without a suicide attempt or, being locked up. 

I was so out of my head with grief, sorrow and pain. This is from loss of a loved one, not from tragic accident, or terminal disease, but from being tossed aside, not wanted or needed and feeling not good enough.

It all began nine years prior, when out one night with friends and coworkers, at a trendy Los Angeles restaurant and “bar”, when returning from the ladies room, I noted a man at the pay phone. 

This was long before cell phones, tick-tock, and Facebook. I looked particularly lovely that night with my long red hair, good figure, and white and black long sleeve wool dress (form-fitting). I heard a voice, said, “Hold on a minute.” to the phone then he glanced to me. I stopped, turned and smiled, and continued walking.

He was tall, not particularly good looking, but had a great smile. 

As weeks passed by, I never gave him another thought.

My life continued as usual. Work, friends and family, and occasional date here and there, nothing to write home about. 

But I was content.

I worked at the local hospital in the urgent care department. I loved it. My coworkers were also my friends and so were the connections. If we were not at work, we were together at concerts, clubs, restaurants, and sporting events, and frequently spontaneous trips to Las Vegas. 

We all worked the same days, and off the same days so we worked hard and played hard.

One morning the director of nursing came down from her throne on the third floor to our department. She rarely made a visit to our unit.

“Gather around everyone,” she said. 

I knew a surgeon will be starting today. 

She announced, “He will be working with you all until his paperwork and hospital privilege are finalized.”

She continued, “Make him feel welcome, and help him anyway you can.”

And with that, the door opened and he walked across the waiting room and into our department.

“Oh my God, I thought it is the phone booth guy!” I thought. 

There was the beginning of the happiest day of my life.

He was slightly overweight, not handsome by any means, but he was my prince. 

Nine years later, my world fell apart.

Autumn had arrived, the weather cooling off. The house was decorated with pumpkins, witches, and skeletons for Halloween—our favorite holiday. 

He arrived home late that night, he came in, he was agitated. 

Still in his scrubs, he really didn’t talk. 

He walked in, went into the den, came out maybe five minutes later and said, “there is no easy way of doing this. I’m leaving you. I met someone else!”

I knew there was nothing to talk about. He wanted out.

I thought we were so well matched. We laughed a lot. We still had great passion for one another! We love talking about our work and about problems of the world. 

I guess not. 

I will never forget the sound of the “front door closing!”

He said he would come back, and move his belongings. He didn’t get a chance. I burned everything and mailed the rest to his new address.

The next day I made it to work with up-all-night crying eyes puffy, and couldn’t think straight. 

Thank God, a friend and coworker cornered me in the hallway and pulled me into a room and I unloaded my sad, sob story. 

She said how sorry she was. She knew it was coming. She is a physician herself. 

Said she heard the details. Hospital is a class full of gossip. 

My beloved had been seeing her for about a year. She is five foot three, 185 pounds with three kids. 

I thought I couldn’t feel any worse. 

She wrote me a prescription for sleeping pills and made me promise not to overdose. “I am sending you home on medical leave for two months!”

“Go home – take a pill, get up, eat, shower, taken another pill!”

“At the end of the week, come back and see me.” 

“I am signing you up for grieve therapy sessions.”

Later, I arrived home. The home I shared with him, 24 hours ago. I pulled the drapes, I called my family, told them I had the flu, and will call in a few days, I needed to rest. 

I could not tell them yet. They loved him too, especially my mom. 

He always advised her and guided her with medical care.

I then unplug the phone. I followed my friend’s advice—pills, showers, food. 

The next week I attended grieve therapy group and walked out.

I didn’t want to hear anyone else’s sob stories, and a therapist asking “And how you feel about that yada yada yada?”

After two weeks, I looked like hell. I was smoking like a chimney at night, and drinking too much wine. 

I knew it, but the only thing that gave me peace was sitting on my back porch at night looking at the stars and moon. It gave me peace.

One day during the week an automatic reflex took over and I turned the radio on. 

The world was still moving as usual. 

LA still LA. Bumper-to-bumper traffic. Still drive-by shootings. And home invasions. Normal days. 

On this particular morning still in bed, counting the tiles on the ceiling, I heard a voice say come to Grady Park today. And give it poor little furry creature a forever home. 

I thought why not – no one wants them, they have been tossed away just like me.

I arrived at the park. It was crowded with lonely singles just like me, and couples who probably thought we had better adopt a dog, before we have a kid to see if we are parent materials.

An announcement came over the PA – the handlers will march the perspective adoptees in cones to the grassy area. 

The parade began with Disney-like happy music playing, and then I saw him. I felt my arm flying up above my head, “I want him! I want him!”

I thought oh no that’s how I felt when I met ‘Prince charming.’ I ran over to get a better look. Oh my God—he was pathetic looking. His fur, very spare had once been black and brown. His bones protruding against his skin. Teeth brown and rotten. Long floppy ears. 

Still not deterred, I made it to the office, sign the paper and paid the fees. The office staff gave me the name, address and the phone number of the vets office were I could pick him up in 24 hours.

It was done.

I hit the store that day. The first time I had been out in weeks. I needed dog food, potty pads, brush, and shampoo.

I fantasized about how loving he would be, we would snuggle at night on the couch while watching my favorite show. We would take long walks in the park during the day and night. 

While shopping, the vet called and informed me, he needed all his teeth pulled except one. 

He is so undernourished, he needed a panel of blood work and all his shots. 

This was my chance to back out but I couldn’t do it. I knew no one would adopt him. 

I couldn’t do it to him. I couldn’t cast him aside. I knew how that feels. 

$2,000 later, he was mine.

I arrived at the vets the next morning. He gave strict instructions. No table food, dry food mixed with wet. Ordered a checkup every two months due to his weight—very undernourished. 

The vet said he had been found under the bridge, and probably lived on trash and scraps.

The vet inquired what have you named him so we can ship him with name and address. 

I didn’t have time to think. I didn’t want an average dog name like Skipper or Buddy, and then I remembered an old English series I had watched with a butler name Bentley. 

I thought how classy that was. They brought Bentley out, he was now mine. 

I walked him out to the car. He never looked at me. I placed him in the front seat and he looked straight ahead. He never made a sound. I had a small crib at home. I had used when watching my nephew, when he was a baby and I kept it now, I used it as a crate. 

Later in the day, I prepared his dinner while placing his dish in the crib, he nearly took my hand off. 

Well, in reality he couldn’t hurt me, he had no teeth, but he growled and snarled at me. 

I was in no mood, after paying $2,000, I shouted at him. “You are going back, you little mongrel—right back in the morning!”

Late that night I moved the crib next to my bed. I didn’t want him wandering the house around 3 AM. I heard a sound, and felt a furry creature against my back. 

Okay I said go to sleep you’re still going back. 

In the morning I had to pick him up to get them off the bed. 

He then placed his front paws around my neck and look directly at me. 

I melted—“Okay,” I said, “You are home,” and our life together began.

Every morning we woke early and walked to the equestrian center close to my house. It had beautiful grassy pastures for the horses to grass. We would sit and I would have coffee and cigarette. It was on our walk I noticed if he saw a cigarette butt he would run for it and chew, then spits it out. He loved them. 

I would tell him, “Bentley we have to quit!”

I had to hide my cigarettes at home, and the empty ashtray right away, or he would devour them. 

At night we would sit on the porch and look up at the stars and moon and every month or so when we had a full moon he would bark nonstop in the middle of the night until I took them out and it was then I discovered that he loved a full moon. 

He would sit on the doorway stare up at the sky for as long as I would allow.

The time was soon approaching from my return to work. 

I was ready. My mind was clear, I could now work with patients and gave my full attentions. 

I would not leave Bentley home alone all day. I called my niece who accepted the challenge.

I would drop him off in the morning and pick him up right after work. Maxine had two small children and every day would place the kids in the double stroller and Bentley on the top and off they would go. 

One day Maxine called me at work laughing she said she had friends over for lunch and Bentley bit all their painted toenails toes. She instructed her friends from now on no more sandals. 

Later I bought Bentley a T-shirt that says in big letters, “yes, I bite!”

4th July was fast approaching. I planned to take Bentley to the equestrian center. No one in town seem to realize you would see the fireworks without any crowds. 

I was working now but did not feel like socializing outside of work. 

The day finally arrived. I parked a picnic basket and with ham and cheese sandwiches and potato chips. 

Bentley had long ago given up dog food. He loved ham, chicken, rice, potato chips and an orange. He could smell across the room. He love oranges. 

And he loved the smell of beer. I took him to the vet every 2 to 3 months and he never had an abnormal lab.

We arrived at the equestrian center. We were the only two there. We had our basket, sandwiches, and one cigarette. I was on the road to getting down to one a day. 

Bentley no longer chewed a cigarette butt when he found one, he would roll on his back as he was in heavens.

The fireworks began. The bright light of pink and blue and green majestic sparks the loud booming sounds in the sky. 

We looked up in amazement. Bentley never flinched.

The years passed quickly and we face many challenges together. My fantasy of having a lovable dog who would snuggle on the couch with me and cuddle, never materialized with Bentley. 

He was sit on the couch at the other end and would turn his head look at me and bark. One bark every 20 or 30 minutes or so.

As years passed, and family members began to pass, at every celebration of life with the family slideshow presentation, of weddings, graduations, baptism, Bentley was in every celebration due to every Christmas I had him picture with Santa. He never sat on Santa’s lap – I would stand by his side and hold Bentley out. I sent one to every and and cousins.

I had Bentley for 20 years. I always promised him I would never allow him to be in pain.

During his 21st year one night late he started screaming in pain. I called every vet hospital in town and no one could see him until morning. I called that to see if someone could come to the home and that didn’t happen. 

I crushed up to blood pressure pills and water and with a syringe was able to make him swallow the solution. 

He slept all night peacefully. 

In the morning I knew it was time. I placed him on his favorite pillow. He allowed me to bury my head on his furry head and I cried, like I had never cried before for human or canine.

We arrived at the vet hospital, a small little hospital close to the park. The vet agreed it was time. She said she had never worked with the dog so old. She inserted the needle deep in his vein and pushed the medication. Bentley turn his head, looked like what the hell are you doing? 

The vet said I am sorry this has never happened and, she had to get another syringe. 

She returned and this time she was successful. I held him in my arms. 

I whispered in his ears you came into my life when we both needed someone. 

Bentley you saved my life, I know you have a soul.

You can go now and look at your moon for eternity.

Every time there is a full moon, I look up and say Bentley you would love it tonight. 

I hope you’re looking and enjoying a cigarette.

Maureen Whitaker

Simplywhitaker@gmail.com

822 N Myers, Burbank CA 91506

818 303-6440