Benji was a fun loving, sweet, affectionate and mild-mannered dog with a cute face and soulful, dark brown eyes. He had a look that would make you think that butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. He also was very energetic, and required a long walk daily.
Benji could be very intelligent, but he also was crafty if or when he wanted to be. He used to, when we were eating our dinners, perform an act, in which he would sit down and look at us, close his eyes, and keep closing them until we gave him something to eat. If that trick failed, and our meal had nearly finished, his eyes would suddenly burst wide open and he would offer you his paw! As a result, we usually ended up giving Benji something to eat.
In November 1988 he chewed a carpet up, probably out of boredom, which my dad wasn't pleased about, and as a result, converted the outhouse for Benji to sleep in. He was given a rubber ring, along with a David Owen/David Steel squeaky toy. He used to run about with it, in the house or garden, making a noise. When he wore that out, we got him one of Margaret Thatcher! He also had a squeaky toy called the "Dog Times", which was a white, rolled up newspaper.
Benji was a brilliant watchdog, and he would bark loudly if anyone came down the path he didn't know, or walked past the house, though he was protecting his property. Benji would not have made a great guard dog though. If burglars had broke in, he would probably have started playing with them! He loved people. If they or anyone had attacked a family member, that would have been a different story, as he would have gone for them. Benji would have literally died trying to protect his family from attack.
Benji never had a problem with cats. I never saw him chase one during his life. He usually backed off or ran away from fights with other dogs, but I saw him twice defend himself when attacked, and he came out on top.
Benji didn't like fireworks or Bonfire night. During the night of every November 5th during his lifetime, I didn't take him out for a walk, and he used to go under the table or lie in his basket when they went off. Thunderstorms didn't bother Benji though.
Benji hated any argument or discord within the family. In July 1992 my dad and me had a loud argument, and when he heard us, Benji started barking!
Benji could be silly, and I don't mean that an insulting way, but a humorous one. He played with his lead if he wanted to go for a walk. I remember a couple of times in his early years, he ran about late at night, in the house, with his lead in his mouth, angrily, in the hope that he would somehow be going for a walk! Another time, I also remember Benji, aged about 22 months, chewing a cup one night as if it was a bone! He also would chase his tail on numerous occasions whilst in the garden, though maybe that was caused by fleas.
Benji was selectively deaf. If I was walking him and other dogs were around, he would bolt off. I would shout his name, which he usually answered to, but on such occasions, he pretended not to hear, yet the "deafness" magically disappeared when I ever mentioned "food", "walk" or "lead". When I spoke the latter two words, he would cock his head, before jumping up and wagging his tail. Whenever I slapped my thighs, he would always come towards me for a hug and a stroke, whether he was in his basket or in the garden. Benji loved having his chest rubbed or stroked.
September 1994 opened and Benji was his usual self, but when I stroked him on the 8th September, I noticed that there was a small lump on the right hand side of his body. I was puzzled. I hadn't seen it before, but I had an instinctive feeling that the lump was something serious. However, at the time, Benji wasn't losing weight, and hadn't lost his appetite. In fact he never lost any weight, and still had an appetite even on the very final day of his life.
My dad and Benji returned to learn the results of the previous week, on 3rd October 1994. For some reason, Benji wasn't scared that day, as he usually was. The vet told my dad that the tests and biopsy showed that the lump on Benji's right hand side was a Cancerous tumour, as I had feared. That was bad enough. However, when my dad asked the vet how much the operation would cost to remove the lump, he was given a piece of devastating news. The vet told my dad to put his money away, and for whatever reason, said he wouldn't be able to operate on Benji, and effectively sentenced him to death.
I think the vet said that the tumour had attached itself to part of his rib, and that it was very aggressive. My parents or me would have paid for the bill if it could have saved him, no matter how much it would have cost, but according to the vet, that wasn't an option.
My dad was too dazed to say anything, so he didn't question what the vet told him. If I had been there, and I had been thinking clearer, I would have asked the vet to remove the ribs and put artificial ones in, but I wasn't there, and to be honest, I probably would have been too dazed to say anything as well.
Whilst I had my suspicions that the lump was Cancerous, I didn't expect this news, and like my dad, I thought a big operation would have to be involved, but that there would be an eventual recovery. I envisaged Benji becoming a lame invalid in agony within the next two weeks. However, during both October and November 1994, despite the evil thing which had made its unwelcome presence on his body, Benji was still like a Dog half his age. There were no changes to his lifestyle, which consisted of two daily dinners, a walk, a sleep and spells in the garden if the weather was fine, playing with his ball, squeaky toy or bone.
Benji's health rapidly deteriorated from the 13th December, even though he was mobile to the end. The lump had swollen though in the last two weeks, and during the final three days, Edema had set into his back legs. The vet said he may have lived another month, but would have been in extreme pain, and we could have found him dead in the basket one morning. His life came to a sudden, abrupt and premature, but also peaceful and silent end, in his own home.
Benji was cremated later that afternoon. We never got his ashes because it was a mass cremation. Because nobody could think clearly, we didn't request an individual cremation.
