The Cookie Man

It hurt because it mattered. --John Green

I was all set to tell you all about the fibre festival I attended yesterday. I took photos and thought about witty lines to write and about all the wonderful things I saw...

But instead, I would like to tell you about Grandpa Don.

We met Grandpa Don a few weeks after we moved to our current house. His house is on the main dog-walking route that nearly everybody takes in this neighbourhood. On a fine day, his garage door would be open, and he would be sitting there in the sunshine with his beloved old dog, Rocky. He had a jar full of milk bones for any dog who was allowed to have one, and he had a spare lawn chair for anyone who had time to sit and pass some time with him.

I tell you: every single dog within a 5-mile radius could hear when Grandpa Don's garage door opened.

I don't need to tell you that Seymour became one of his favourites. That little dog can charm pretty much any human he encounters. And it wasn't long before Grandpa Don made a little milk bone mailbox for him so that Seymour could pick up a treat whenever Grandpa wasn't out:

We didn't always call him Grandpa Don. We only started calling that after we really became part of his world.

Don had bladder cancer a few years ago. He underwent major surgery, and then came home to recuperate. After a few weeks, he developed a serious infection and had to go back to the hospital. When he came home, he was gaunt, pale, and depressed. That concerned us. And Seymour missed him.

One day, we knocked on his door, just wanting to find out an update. His wife, Joan, answered with her cheery smile and we heard Don inviting us in. We went in with Seymour pulling on his leash, and Don said, "Oh, just let him loose." Seymour ran towards Don and stopped in front of him to give him a happy little howl (Seymour always does a little howl when he is really happy). Don laughed, leaned over and patted Seymour's head, and said, "Ohhhh, Grandpa missed you."

And that's when he became Grandpa.

Since then, whenever we were both going to be out of the house for more than a couple of hours, we asked Grandpa if he was interested in looking after Seymour during that time. Seymour is more than fine staying home on his own, but we figured that it was a win-win situation if Grandpa got some time with his favourite boy and Seymour was showered with the affection he loves. Seymour was there to cheer him up when his old dog, Rocky, crossed the rainbow bridge. Grandpa would play hide and seek around the kitchen island with Seymour. He would get down on the floor to play with him. And he was the only one who was patient enough to play ball with Seymour until they were both tired enough to take a nap on the couch together.

A couple of weeks ago, the hubby went over to trim Grandpa's hedges for him. Grandpa wasn't feeling well that day - he was feeling too chilled to sit out in the back yard, so he went out and sat in the garage in the sunshine with Seymour. The next day, his wife called to cancel his play date planned for the following day as Grandpa was a bit too ill.

And last Thursday morning, Grandpa Don left us to go to his beloved dog, Rocky.

His wife, Joan, called us to let us know shortly afterward. She said, "I wanted to let you know. Seymour brought him a lot of joy."

That afternoon, we walked passed Grandpa's house for our walk. We passed the garage, and Seymour stopped and looked back at the door for a long time. And then we continued on.

We've met some of the neighbourhood dog walkers over the past couple of days to break the news to them. Every single person has had the same response. We're all going to miss the Cookie Man.

This afternoon, we walked passed again, and in the tree outside his house was a framed picture of Rocky and a framed photo that told everyone of the news. Down below was a jar of milk bones and a small box with smaller versions of the framed photo that you could take if you wanted.

It says:

Dear Dogs and Puppies and your owners,

The Cookie man has gone to be with his beloved dog Rocky.

Please know he loved your visits and would be happy for you to take more biscuits in his memory.

I feel sad. I feel teary as I write this. But I feel glad that we followed our hearts to do the small favour of stopping each day when we could and bringing him happiness with Seymour's visits. It's so hard when people you care about leave you. And that's about the most I can say about that.

Thank you for all the milk bones, Grandpa. Rest well. And say hi to Rocky for us.