A fond farewell to Flutie.
I often kidded my sainted mother that her dog, Flutie, was the first male that she successfully raised to adulthood.
Flutie was certainly easier to house train. Mom’s beloved Yorkshire terrier made it to 19 1/2 — the equivalent of a human living to 100 — until the sad, inevitable farewell of April 23.
By then, Flutie was blind and deaf. One of his back paws would no longer support his weight, minimal as it was. You could tell that he just felt lousy. So it was time.
We all gathered at the Airport Animal Hospital on an otherwise pleasant Monday afternoon — “we” being Mom (G. Helen Vanstone-Mather), yours truly (whose name I cannot recall at the moment), my wife (Chryssoula Filippakopoulos), my sister (Laura Steadman) and her husband (Derek Steadman).
The veterinarian, Dr. Patricia Van Parys, was typically wonderful. She, too, was emotional — having cared for Flutie for most of a very long life that dated back to October of 1998.
How long ago was that?
Reggie Slack was the Saskatchewan Roughriders’ starting quarterback.
Peyton Manning was a rookie with the Indianapolis Colts.
Bill Clinton was the President of the United States, and Monica Lewinsky was still topical.
The Internet, and email, had just arrived at Leader-Post World Headquarters, where we were still heavily reliant on a fax machine.
Chryssoula was my fiancee.
Next year, we will celebrate our 20th anniversary.
On a day we had all dreaded, we were also able to celebrate little Flutie.
He sat on a blanket in the examination room as we told stories about him and paid homage to all the other dogs that we will always love — Snowball, Peeve, Oscar and Elway.
Elway — the quarterback — was still playing when Flutie was born.
Come to think of it, Flutie — the quarterback — was also playing when Flutie was born.
A year earlier, Mom had met Doug Flutie during his final season with the Toronto Argonauts. Mom’s second husband, Alan Mather, documented the occasion by taking a number of photos.
Alan died in December of 1998. A few days later, I had my “How Much Is That Doggy In The Window?” moment.
I walked past the pet store at the Northgate Mall and saw an adorable Yorkshire terrier puppy. Screech!
After making a bee-line for the counter, I inquired as to the cost and availability of the tiny tail-wagger.
The answers were to my liking, so I said: “Hold on. I’ll be right back.”
Then I hit the Ring Road and drove from the Northgate Mall to south Regina, where Mom resides. I burst through the front door and inquired: “I just found a Yorkshire terrier at a pet store. Would you like a dog?”
Mom thought about it for a second and then, for the first time that week, smiled.
“I think that would be nice,” she replied.
Back to the car. Back to the Ring Road. Back to the Northgate Mall. Back to the pet store.
“I’ll take him!” I proclaimed, while brandishing my overworked Visa card.
After signing a few papers and purchasing some wee-wee pads — for the dog, I should specify — it was back on to the Ring Road.
The unnamed little dog sat on my lap, shaking. I tried to comfort him while steadfastly obeying the rules of the road.
It seemed like a one-hour drive, given the caution I exercised, but I eventually returned to Mom’s place.
I rang the doorbell with my nose — I was holding the dog with both hands — and waited for Mom to answer. When she did, she was presented with her new roommate.
Mom took him from me and gave him a hug. He licked her face, looking like the happiest little guy in the world.
And he was, for nearly 20 years. I am certain that he appreciated my impromptu scouting expedition to the Northgate Mall, because we always had a special bond.
On many a Christmas Day, when I was splattered all over Mom’s couch while watching television, he would park himself on my chest.
Every time I visited Mom, Flutie would instantly roll over on his back. Tummy tickle!
Eventually, though, Flutie always found his way to the right side of the couch. That was his spot. Every night, he would sleep at Mom’s feet, or crawl into her arms and be cuddled.
That is the Flutie I will always remember — the lovable little dog in the window, with a heart so big that it kept beating for nearly 20 years.