Beau Ballou!

Beau Ballou

6/2001 to 10/27/2015

Last Tuesday, 10/27, the world lost another good doggie. After an 8+ month battle with kidney failure, one of the dogs that I grew up with, went up to the great dog-park-in-the-sky. My dad has a saying, "I want to be reincarnated as a dog in the Ballou family." And whatever Beau did in a previous life to earn this sacred assignment, he outdid himself in the commitment. 

Beau had one helluva smile. Partially his unique eyebrows, green-yellow eyes, and long tongue gave him just about the happiest look ever conceived of on a living face. It was the equivilent of a doggie-buddah. It conveyed a sweet lovingness and deep desire to please -- even if he was unsure of how to do just that. Like, I'd tell him to sit & stay...and he'd run to me. "But I wanna be a good dog," was written all over his grin.

The first time we met Belle and Beau was in an Albuquerque animal shelter. We were looking for ONE older (i.e. potty trained) dog after my boyhood dog had passed. There were these two fluffs in a cage together: brother and sister, the sign said. Abandoned in the mesa desert.  Within minutes of Belle curling up on Mom's lap and Beau being so cute playing in the grass, we knew they were part of our family. 

That first night at home, my mom loves to tell this story, the two puppies were in a cardboard box. Beau started whimpering. Belle gave him a short growl. It was like she was reminding him about the pound and the desert. Essentially, the puppy equivilent of: "Don't f&*# this up." And from that moment until morning he was silent. Belle and Beau were wildly different and wildly similar at the same time (like most siblings, I guess). In one moment, they'd be hauling full-sped down one of their favorite mountain hiking trails, Belle's jaws playfully clenching Beau's entire tail, and then the next, he was loving licking her ears. They went everywhere and did everything together. And while it's hard on us to see Beau go, our focus is making sure Belle can handle this new chapter.  

My parents are the first to admit that their puppies filled the empty nest when Shaun and I moved away. I mean, how many dogs not only have the best spot on the couch as their own -- but also have designated chenille pillows?

Another example is that they've taken those dogs everywhere: a month in the San Juan Islands, countless trips to California, jeeping in southern Colorado, and not to mention all the galavanting around New Mexico (Jealous? I sure am). Beau was game for it all -- though Lake Powell was his favorite -- and good thing too, he probably spent 6-8 weeks a year surrounded by those majestic red sandstone walls. Now, he might've liked going there because of the McDonalds cheesburgers he got on the road trip, but I have to believe it was the swimming, hiking, kayaking, and all that fun stuff which made it so special to him. That and the fact that those rock walls made for amazing echoes from one's bark. Even this past September, he still enjoyed barking at the gas dock attendants.

One of my most vivid memories ever was watching the second tower fall on 9/11 and holding both little furball puppies perplexed at the ability of a universe to harbor such violent evil and soul-lifting sweetness at the same moment. That was days before I awoke to find them (thinking they were home alone) buried in an entire cube of Costco toilet paper they shredded in my parents room. I guess there is the slightest shade of violence in the sweetness too.

Most everyone loves Lisa, but Beau made people earn his affection. The first time Lisa came to visit New Mexico -- back when we were were counting our anniversaries in months vs. years -- Beau did his usual of barking at the this intruder in his dog pack. The first weekend of her trip, my dad & I took her and the pups to Ouray for jeeping. After a good 12+ hours in the backseat together, bouncing over majestic meadows and teetering on 1000 foot ledges made of crumbling slate, Beau reached out a paw -- literally...he put it on her shoulder. From that moment forward, she was family. 

Beau felt that certain traditional "dog" games were just too -- well, dog for him. Instead, he was what I always thought of as "the ref." He had a blast chasing Belle or Cody or Bailey as they played ball or frisbee...and if that game involved running to the lake water's edge and barking out the rules to the other dogs swimming for the object of desire, then that was even better.

He had an...ummm, interesting relationship with Cody & Bailey. He loved them, especially when he got to tell them what to do. He would make sure they stayed inline -- often from under the table, earning him the nickname of "the troll" (in the nicest sense possible). In the end, I know he felt much like their big brother. And I'm so glad they had him as someone to learn how to be the sweetest, most loving dogs from. 

J fell very, very much in love with Beau. His name was one of her first words and most used. She asks about him daily, "Beau?" And he reciprocated that love. The last time he visited California, he was barely eating and it wasn't until J started to help feed him (relax, it was under extremely tight supervision) that he started taking in nearly whole meals. 

E loved Beau too. It melted my heart to hear my son ask over facetime, "Nana, how is Beau feeling? Can we bring him some medicine?" I know that he loved our kids too. I don't think he ever barked at either one of them -- which I think he only treated me, Shaun, and my parents that way. Even from birth, J & E were his closest family too. 

Today, as we drove him in the car one last time, I put on U2's BEAUTIFUL DAY and reflected about all those things above and more. As I did, I realized that, yes, Beau lucked out with his life, but really, I wondered how did we get such good karma to have Beau bless us for 14+ years?

You'll always be in our hearts and our laughs, Beau-bear. And we bet you're ref-ing an epic game of fetch at the great Lake Powell-in-the-sky.