It’s taken a while to get to a place to be able to write this. The day we lost our sweet boy will be forever burned into my mind. He was
arguably definitely the nicest member of the Ankrom family. If you knew him, you loved him, and he loved you.
Sid was a dog of many names. The Meepers. Meeps. Meepy. Sid Monkey. Sid Monk. Butt Sniffer. Tappy. Tamale Dog. After he went deaf, he stopped answering, but we never stopped calling him. It’s hard for me to say his name without feeling sad, which is in direct contrast to how his name used to make me feel.
Sid came home with us on February 16, 2004. Ironic, isn’t it? Exactly 13 years later, we sent him to his forever home, the Rainbow Bridge. Ray fought me for a long time on getting a dog, much less a puppy, but when we walked into the City of Pearland Animal Shelter, he was sitting alone, cowering in a corner. Ray just knew he’d grow up to be a tough cookie. Well, Sid sure showed him. I have never met a more docile, tolerant, and mild-mannered dog. He endured years of playful torture by both Ray and Laney. Even in his last months, suffering from liver failure, dementia, cancer…he never once complained or lashed out at anyone. He just kept on being sweet. I’ll never forget that.
The dude was so dang smart. He potty trained himself in the first two weeks at home. I only had to ask him if he needed to go outside, and he’d trot over to the door and go out. The guy was only three months old. How lucky were we? As working pet parents, we had to leave him home alone all day, and that was an important skill. He knew words. I often spoke to him like a person because in my heart I believed he could understand every word I was saying (HUSH YOU GUYS). He knew key words for sure – Grammy/Popo, cheese, park, Petco, check the mail, run, where they at, did you poop a tape recorder, no, go lay down, where’s your ball, no bite. We had to teach him to “park” instead of “sit” because “sit” was too close to his name.
Every year for his birthday, I made cheese eggs for breakfast. Once Laney was able to write, she’d decorate his plate. He got a stocking and an Easter basket every year. He got presents for Christmas and his birthday, even presents from my Grandma’s dog, Allie. Before he got sick, we took him so many places. He loved going to Grammy and Popos, Petco, the beach, the park, basically anywhere that people were around and he could run and chase things. Oh the ducks, too. Poor ducks. He would nearly vibrate with excitement when we would walk down to the lake at both the neighborhoods we lived in. He REALLY wanted to eat the ducks.
All of our family and friends loved Sid. He was such a welcoming soul. He was always friendly. He never met any person or animal he did not like. There was never a time I felt anyone was unsafe around him, even in his darkest, worst days. He was the most tolerant dog ever – and if you’ve ever met Laney, you know what I mean when I say “most tolerant dog ever.” As a toddler, she would torment him in so many ways – pulling his ears, inadvertently poking him in the eyes, loving him a little “too hard,” and chasing him into corners to give him even more “love.” He’d let her lay all over him and do just about anything she wanted. He would always always always love her right back.
I’d love to say that they were best friends, but honestly, he was mine. He was our baby before we had Laney. We raised him from the scared, shaky little pup in the corner at the City of Pearland animal control shelter to be the fun, chill, happy, sweetest dog there ever was. Ray took him running day after day, so they both could get all of their energy out. Ray would tease and play with him in the living room until the day came when Sid just couldn’t do it anymore. Ray was the one holding him when the time came to tell him it was okay, that it was time to go. We sat there together with him, and watched him breathe his last breath. It was the worst. I know I don’t have to tell you that. If you saw me around that time, you knew.
There will never be another one like him. I don’t want there to be another. He was perfect and wonderful. He was Sid.