On Friday, July 18 at 5:17pm, we said our final goodbye to our dog Bandit. As a way to help me cope, I am using this Substack as vessel to write down and share some thoughts and stories about him.
(The last photo I took of him)
I wanted a dog. I just didn’t know what kind of dog. In January of 2019, after some major goading from
, we finally went looking at shelters, knowing that adoption was the only way to go. Our third and final stop was Carson Animal Shelter, just 1 mile from the house I grew up in where my parents still reside. I knew I didn’t want anything too big or too small and I never factored in age, just having a dog old enough to be potty trained, or trained at all, was the thought because I felt I didn’t have the extra time to put in the work.As I looked lovingly at this old bulldog with one eye who was tugging at my heart strings, Kelly called my attention to this little salt and pepper, mostly pepper, guy down the hall with sad, but knowing brown eyes sharing a room with another small dog. I didn’t think much of it because a rat terrier was not on my list of dogs to search for, in fact, I didn’t know what a rat terrier was. I didn’t have any immediate reaction beyond “Aww, he is cute, but he looks so sad” but we took him out and played with him briefly in the designated fenced off play section and he seemed to immediately, but cautiously, take to us.
As we wrapped up and let him go back to the handler, he started whimpering and looking back at us with those damn sad eyes again. He felt some connection with us that I had yet to feel myself, but that reaction stuck with me. I walked past the bulldog with the one eye again and tried to convince myself and Kelly that she was the one, but Kelly maintained that the little salt and pepper guy was actually the one. We went home to think about it and as I kept going back to those sad, but knowing eyes and the little whine he made when he was taken from us I decided that, yes, Bandit (or Bandito, Buzee, Buddiez, Bando, etc) was fact was the one.
When we picked him up it was during a gnarly rain storm, which is inconsequential to the story, but a memory nonetheless. We were told his history was that he was found astray in the neighborhood and that he had been adopted two weeks prior, but was returned. The woman who returned him called him a “rip off dog” because he wasn’t socializing well enough with this woman's other dogs, upwards of 6 we were told. One person’s trash is another's best friend, I guess…
We took him to get cleaned and and since we were in the neighborhood, took him to my parents to say hi to their “grandson.” He connected with them too and they have since been our go-to dogsitters since. He loved them and they, him.
At first, having a dog was a huge adjustment for me. I was so accustomed to doing things on my own willy-nilly time and living a non-stop life, so to acclimate to having an animal at home who needed my care, attention and most importantly, time, was something I underestimated and didn't quite consider. Early on, I was constantly frustrated by having to work my day around him and selfishly not to myself, which was what I was used to. Bandit pushed my buttons with patience at the onset, but he forced me, whether I liked it or not, to just stop and to be in the moment; Not just the sweet, petting the head moments, but also the picking up shit off of the carpet moments, which frankly can be one of the most in the moment things you can do. I wonder if there is a monk out there that explores this practice…
It didn’t take long to see that my being Mr. willy-nilly-always out, always gone was not sustainable anymore with him around. Having a needy dog, and Bandit was VERY needy, meant putting my shit on hold, or at least finding a balance of both mine and his that I had yet to achieve. We thought leaving him at home for a few hours would be fine. It wasn't and it never was. He would cry, scream, scratch the door and even find ways to escape, including breaking two mesh screens over time. He needed us always.
A way he could aways be with us was in the car. He loved being in the car, which made me happy because I'm in my car a lot. In the car, he experienced the desert, the beach, the mountains, the snow and everywhere in between. We gave him a full life, perhaps fuller life than most dogs and I can hang my hat on that. But again, those adventures were also lessons for me because with Bandit, I was fully put in the moment. This change and awareness about the present happened slowly and I learned how to really care for something else in my life other than myself, but I wasn't sure I needed him yet.
Before covid, I would take him to work most days and he had a reputation from the get go. He would growl, bark and sometimes try to nip people who came in hot to pet him, after all, he was adorable so how could you not? I was fortunate enough to work on productions that allowed him and we were able to bond in a way that we otherwise wouldn't have. When I was working on Crank Yankers, for the season wrap gift, I gave everyone buttons that said “I was barked at by Bandit on Crank Yankers Season 5.” On the lot, he lunged at Bob Sagat, barked at three different Kimmel’s and David Spade almost ran him over. On days that he wasn’t with me in the office, about 2-3 days a week, I’d miss him. That attachment, or dependance, grew and by the time the world shut down in 2020, that closeness seemed to grow ten fold.
Part of my wedding vows called out the resilience that Kelly and I seemed to have. We had gone through a lot in our relationship and we continue to to this day, but what's helped us carry through, whether it was a pandemic, a death, a job loss, or just plain daily stress and anxiety, was Bandit. He was our nucleus and again, a daily reminder that whatever narcissistic or selfish intentions I may have had to be put to rest for the sake of taking care of him. He wasn't an accessory or fun toy, he was an extension of me (us) and he has given me so much to live for, so much to explore, and so much to think about just beyond myself and it altered my mindset in such a profound way. Bandit was a dog and not some sort of philosopher or teacher, but aside from inadvertently showing me what patience and being in the moment was, he also showed me what pure and true love and respect was like I've never experienced before. Of course, I have been loved before but with him, I was willing to experience these feelings of love and part of my growth while having him involved me being open and vulnerable to these feelings and being ok FEELING love at all. It sounds strange to be internalizing these feelings by way of a dog, but very few things feel greater than coming home, and seeing him run toward me with his tail wagging, excited to see me, or when I was sad, he’d come to sit under my legs, with an ever so slight graze to let me know he was there for me. His intuition was, well ... Intuitive.
This may all sound hyperbolic and ridiculous, but I can't imagine I'm the only one who feels this way. When I see friends whose cats or dogs pass away and I see and feel the heavy sadness they go through, I can't help it to go back to this thought that yes, these people are changed, and for the better, because of the unencumbered, unadulterated, PURE love they received from their furry friend. Sure, an animal's ulterior motive is to get food, but once you give them that food there's nothing they won't do for you… Until of course they get hungry again.
This is all to say that I think that what makes life worth living is embracing the fact that life is finite. I may not have learned that because of the dog, but through my time with him, I learned to embrace every stare, tail wag, or diarrhea clean up and as I sit with this grief from loss, I will remember every moment with him with reverie and love because I knew he loved and revered every moment with us. When it was just me and him in the car, he would sit in the passenger seat with his neck cranked up on the center console and when I was sad, having a crying fit, or panic attack, he knew to look up and stare at me, seemingly saying “It's okay. Everything's going to be all right.” It's been hard going anywhere this last week because he went with us everywhere, so when I think of him and the emotional dam starts to burst, I will recount what it felt like to look in those sad brown and knowing eyes and trust that it will in fact, be all right.
I wish he was still here now looking at me as I type this, sleeping on my foot. I wish he would come to work with me again and follow me around. I wish we could continue to take him to Damon’s. I wish we could take him to LA State Historic Park and watch as his face slumps over in his stroller. I wish he was still here. Damn. I guess it turns out I needed him after all.
I love you, buddy.
Thank you for reading and special thanks to those who reached out this week. I appreciate you all.
Looks the the bestest boy. I'm sorry for your loss. 🥲
He may have made your life better but you definitely did the same for him. Sorry for your loss, Sean.