We Called Him Mister Puppy


Surviving the loss of a pet is difficult. We lost our dog Artemus on Father’s Day this year. He was only 6 years old. We had taken him in on Saturday for a routine procedure, and then discovered that he had at least one mass in his abdomen. We scheduled an ultrasound for Monday, but he quietly slipped away from us on Sunday. He died in my arms, while I was on the phone with the vet. We received an incredible amount of comfort and support from the pet clinic, and the care and support they provided us and the final care for Artemus was a balm to the soul. They reassured us that he felt no pain and was comforted by love.

We adopted Artemus when he was 9 weeks old. He was so cute, cuddly and playful. He loved to drop to one shoulder and stick his butt in the air. It was so funny, but we could never get a picture of him doing it. He was too fast. When people came over to visit they would say to Artemus, “Show me your butt.” We called him Mister Puppy because he strutted around on his little paws as if he owned the place. We got Artemus for our 7-year-old dog Molly, who was grieving the loss of our 13-year-old Lady, who we had to put down. Molly perked up and we had her for another year.


After Molly died, we adopted Artemus’s little brother Sinjun, who came from the same parents, just a different litter. Sinjun is as shy as Artemus is outgoing, and he adored his big brother. For anyone who does not believe that dogs have plans and goals, I can dispute that. Sinjun taught himself how to get his little butt up in the air, just like Artemus. It took a couple of months and several falls on his face to master the art of sticking his butt up in the way that Artemus did. Artemus left a little bit of himself behind in Sinjun.

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