Mambo Specter, 2000-2011

Today was a sad day for our family. For the first time ever today, our family became smaller. Mambo, our much-loved Havanese, made his way across the Rainbow Bridge and left his frail body. There, I am sure that he is meeting Tiery 1, Tiery 2, Kelpie, Lazer, Bingo, Maggie, Molly, and countless other family pets who have gone on before. He will be missed. Our oldest children cried uncontrollably today, and even Robby seemed to have a glimmer of understanding as he petted Mambo for the last time. This is our children's first real encounter with death.

As well as such a tragic event can go, this went well. Mambo could no longer walk, he was clearly unhappy, and the vet's diagnosis of a progressive neurological problem which would not improve made the decision easy. The family had a chance to say goodbye, and Mambo made his final journey peacefully. We will miss him. I write the following in Mambo's memory - let it not be said that I romanticize his life.

Mambo was dumb. He was perhaps the dumbest dog I have ever seen. Even at age 10, before his body gave out, he still got to the top of the steps and genuinely could not remember how they worked. Every. Damn. Day. He knew his name but could not after all these years remember what it meant when we called it. He was the only dog in his obedience class who could not do anything resembling a trick, and when all he had to do was walk across the room when we called his name in order to pass the class, he trotted halfway, then laid down, bored. He once ran into the street to bark at a car, and ran under the moving car. It was a miracle that the tires missed him. He was truly, pathetically stupid.

But he was our dog, and we loved him.

Mambo was gross. He loved more than anything else to eat his own poop. He relished it, especially fresh and steaming on the snow. He particularly enjoyed that it often got stuck in the fur around his butt. When not snacking, he enjoyed laying on piles of dirty clothes, and especially loved rubbing his face in dirty underwear. I am not making this stuff up. I regularly caught him peeing on our living room carpet, looking at me indignantly as if to say, "What?" He was nasty, and it was appropriate that at the end, he required surgery to have his nasty, inflamed, infected anal sacs removed. I joked soon after that he would not last long after since his very essence was linked to these glands of nastiness. I turned out to be exactly right. He was gross, nasty, disgusting.

But he was our dog, and we loved him.

Mambo was boring. He never played with toys. He never played with people. He didn't like being near a person's face. He grunted and struggled if we ever had to pick him up. In all actuality, our lives will not change much now that he's gone. Even in the best of health, he only ever sat in the corner, stinking. He never played with other dogs. I truly think that if we hadn't said anything, the kids might have gone a week before they noticed he was gone. He was very much a walking pile of hair.

But he was our dog, and we loved him.

Mambo was poorly assembled. He had a nasty overbite. He had one blue eye. He came to us already having had a hernia surgery. His paws were so big and hairy he'd slip on anything not carpet. It seemed like there was always something wrong with him.

But he was our dog, and we loved him.

Goodbye, Mambo. Much like life, you were not what we expected. You taught us that plans change, and things don't work out the way we originally hope. And you also taught us that we can only learn to love those changes, and love the life you are given. Other dogs may have been more glamorous, smarter, nicer, friendlier, and less gross...but we would choose you again every time.

Because you were our dog, and we love you still.

Love,
Mommy, Daddy, Faith, Mari, Robby, Hannah, and Salsa