Beam

I can’t sleep, and I know why, so might as well just write it out. Tonight/today marks one year since I lost Beam, my childhood pup of 15 years. Seeing his lifeless body on May 14, 2020 — such a contrast to his vivacious spirit — wrecked me last year. Thinking about the grief still hurts. And I am finding myself crying my eyes out despite wanting to happily remember, celebrate, and hold on to the 15 years of unconditional love this dog brought into my life. So, in an effort to aim for the latter, here are 15 bits on Beam that will always make me smile and honor his memory.

1. His name: As a kid obsessed with the 2002 Russian crime miniseries known as Brigada (the saving grace here is that this show was well-studied and taught at the university level in one of my courses at UCLA, so please pause the judgment), I’d often sing a tune from a popular song (can’t remember if this was part of the show soundtrack or just popular around the same time) called Chorni Bumber in Russian. It translates into ‘black Beamer’ and is about…well, fast cars… (do not refrain from judgment here, lol). I don’t recall whose idea it was to name our first pet after this song and why, but we all liked it and so Beamer it was. I called him Beam. Now, he’s a Beam of light.
2. Beam was tiny yet mighty, self-assured and sophisticated. He’d find himself and hold himself high in any environment and would act like he owned the place, even in the newest of settings or among dogs three times his size. It was cute.
3. He was an alpha dog, through and through. And unfortunately, hah, he knew it and was accordingly pampered.
4. Beam thought he was a human and never touched dog food.
5. He had a golden fur line right in the middle spanning from his neck to the lower back. It was like a birthmark and stayed with him into old age.
6. Beam walked with his body/legs aiming sorta sideways when he’d hurriedly try to catch up and play the leader when out on walks. He hated falling behind and made it seem like he was taking me out on a walk rather than vice versa.
7. If you were to say “tsurta tsurta (‘it’s cold, it’s cold,’ in Armenian), Beam would rush to the open backyard door, lean on it from the inside, push his paws against the door and tip-toe until he managed to close the door and protect you from the outside cold. My grandpa taught him that trick.
8. I am convinced Beam was the smartest dog I’ve ever known. More than once, he convinced me he was pretty much a human as far as I was concerned.
9. When we went abroad one summer and had my grandparents petsit him, he ended up at the vet’s with a diagnosis of self-imposed dehydration. He refused to drink water, probably thought we abandoned him, and had to endure a water-bubble injection (subcutaneous fluid administration).
10. Because he was so tiny, in fear of losing him or accidentally stepping on him, we attached a small and subtle bell to his collar. The sound of it remains such a sweet memory for me.
11. He was the softest cuddle buddy; but also mad respect for him when he’d have enough of you and preferred his own cozy corner of the sofa.
12. When outside basking in the sunlight with the posture of a lion, if one of us were to drive into the driveway, he’d know from a mile away, rush to the iron gates at the driveway, and wag his tail while staring up until the moment we’d get out of the car and close the car door. Then, he’d rush inside the house to greet us at the front door.
13. Too much excitement and he’d start hopping around the backyard like a goat.
14. He would never try to run away. In fact, after having accidentally left him outside the alley gate while taking the trash out, Beam traversed the block, got to the front door of the house, and patiently sat there until one of us in panic began looking for him and opened the front door, only to witness him — without looking up and likely in dismay at our incompetence — waltz back into the house.
15. He was a majestic, magical creature who knew exactly how I felt and did everything he could to unconditionally love me and my family. I hope we were able to convey to him the same kind of love, and I hope he passed knowing how much he would be missed and loved and forever a deeply sacred part of our lives.

Please, however much you can, and whenever you can, snap photographs and videos of your pets and loved ones. Add them to your visual and poetic memory. You’ll be grateful to have done so.