Dear Helen,

Thank you so much for your kind card. A courtesy many people forget, in such cases. I am feeling a little better, but we all miss Stanley dreadfully.

Burke, too, has shed a tear. Well, not the sort that actually rolls down one’s cheeks. But his eyes welled up when he looked at Stan’s stiff, dear body. “Thank god he won’t be humping me anymore,” he said. I heard the emotional strain in his voice.

It’s true that Burke always took the brunt of Stanley’s sexual drive. Pugs are incredibly sexual, did you know? Of course many dogs have urges, but our darling Stanley took the humping to quite an extreme. He would glare at one with wild, angry eyes, and then come running and exert his passion on one’s arm, with a furious look  that said ‘don’t you dare try to stop me’.

Burke would lightly push him away, which would make Stan all the more frenzied, a mixture of passion and rage. If he got very displeased by Burke’s rejection, he would even bite him, so Burke usually gave it up and let Stanley have his way with him. Oddly enough, Stan never quenched his desires on me - a dog of strange tastes.

Barnaby is of course much less lascivious than Stan, especially since his chemical castration. I always wonder, by the way – why can’t they do those on men? So much simpler than the whole vasectomy thing, which I personally don’t like because men tend to complain of all sorts of little aches for weeks afterwards, so that one is wholly put off one’s feed, if you see what I mean. Of course, now and then even Barney suddenly discovers a Love Object, and when he does, he won’t take no for an answer.

Wasn’t it funny the way he used to climb on top of Dr. Veltman? Simply hilarious! No matter how vehemently poor Barnaby pawed Dr. Veltman’s stomach and bit and sucked on his ear lobe, Dr. Veltman had no clue what was going on.

“Yes, yes, you’re a good dog,” he would say. Or, if he was very put upon: “Why don’t you go play with your fire truck, now?” But he was never on to Barnaby’s carnal lust for him, even when the dog humped his arm furiously. I just didn’t have the heart to tell him what was going on. So innocent, Dr. Veltman…Even his almost fanatical devotion to me seems quite chaste and pure – Thank God!

I have put your card on the mantelpiece, my dear, with similar attentions from other friends. Nothing from Joanie – she can be quite cold, can’t she. I love her, of course.

Lisa

Dear Joanie,

Darling, sad news – Stanley passed away in the night.

I’m sorry for announcing it so bluntly – but I’m all red-eyed and exhausted, and have, for the moment, lost my usual knack for diplomacy. Of course we knew it was imminent – there’s only so much a body can take. He was old and worn, basically. But even when you know the end is near, part of you doesn’t want to believe it, don’t you find?

Dr. Harman dropped by early in the evening, bless his soul, gave Stan a sedative, and told us to sit with him, be close to him, and that was all we could do for him. “But it is a lot,” he added. And yes, for that I am grateful. Stanley didn’t die alone.

In the middle of the night, he let out an odd grunt, then panted frantically for several minutes, his eyes bulging from the effort. I could see his extreme discomfort, and the sedative had worn off, but Burke said I shouldn’t call dr. Harman. I didn’t want to argue over Stanley’s bed, but I think it’s a doctor’s duty to do anything he can, even if it’s the middle of the night, and I do think I should have called him – even if he really couldn’t do anything, it would have been a reassurance to have him by the bed.

Don’t you agree?

Then  came the death throes. L ‘agonie, as the French call it. Oh darling, so awful! I don’t think I’ll ever be able to erase the image from my mind – Stanley half-conscious, half gone to a better world, yet in obvious distress…He was so far away from us, and then suddenly, his eyes opened, and there was a moment when I knew he recognized me. It was very brief. I think he knew – he knew that he was going to die.

Thank God I was there for him. But of course, in the end, we all die alone. No one can help us through the transition.

And now, we are left with the pain. Even Burke, who used to pretend he didn’t much care for Stanley, and shooed him off the couch quite brusquely many a time. But I know that deep down he adored Stan. He’s been digging a grave all afternoon, didn't want for dr. Harman to take his little body away.

Darling, I am heartbroken…Will write more, soon. Right now I need a Valium.

Love,

Lisa