Bastion's Halloween

My best friend and I had our absolute favorite adventure, our first Real Halloween, the year he turned 12.

I was born into a traumatic household, but Bastion was adopted into it. I had already endured eight and a half years with my mother by the time Bastion came into my life. He was a bought and paid for American Kennel Club registered Labrador Retriever. He was originally intended as a “buttering up” gift for my new step-father thought Mother put it as “hunting dog and companion”, but my mother hardly ever means what she says. They had been married less than 3 months and had already had some serious fights about her lack of responsibility, so her solution to distract from her behavior was to make a dramatic show of helping my step-father find the dog he’d always wanted. The idiot fell for it and it became the dynamic for our lives from that time forward. As long as she went slow, had excuses and kept him happy, she could get away with everything short of murder.

They found and bought Bastion in time for their six-month anniversary. He came home at 10 weeks old in early August. I got home from school and was greeted by two little paws on my boot. I looked down into the deepest pools of dark brown I'd ever seen. In that one moment, my new step-Father lost his dog. Bastion chose me.

Bastion and I endured the same neglect and he provided a barrier to my heart for the next 11 years as my mother's abuse steadily worsened. He even stopped me in my attempts at ending my own life. For the record, it is especially difficult to maneuver around a 100lb Labrador in your lap.

The year we turned 20 and 11, respectively, our lives changed. My step-Father accepted a job in another country. He was offered company housing and bonuses, but no accommodations for “adult” children. At 19 years old that meant I could not go with them. My mother, who saw only the opportunity of higher income with the new job, was content to with literally abandoning me in the street. I was 19 with no car, no license, no job and no experience with the world outside her twisted reality all because she prevented me. The idea of being left behind was both exhilarating and terrifying together. I would be free, but I had no idea what to do. 19 and half years of systematic abuse being told you will never be able to function in the real world doesn’t disappear quickly.

Thankfully one of our family friends, who I found out later only stayed friends with my parents in case the chance arose for her to rescue me, offered to take me in and help me get on my feet. My only stipulation was Bastion had to come with me. I would not leave the better part of my soul behind. Her name was Tracy and she told me “I have no problem with that, but he legally belongs to your step-father. Bastion is AKC registered so there isn’t anything we can do.”

With a significantly triumphant air I told Tracy, “No, Bastion is mine. She put him in my name. Everyone told her it would be so cute to do that because of how he bonded with me.” A huge smile crept across my face.

Tracy smiled back at me “Ok, then I will back you on it.” she assured me.

Thankfully it was a simple fight. I reminded Mother that my name was on Bastion’s papers and that they were moving to a country with high standards and harsh penalties for the treatment of pets, especially dogs, and Bastion was free to come with me.

We lived our best life that year. Bastion was 11 by that time and severe arthritis, including in his spine, limited us on what adventures we could have now. But our favorite was our first Halloween. Tracy and her husband were Halloween enthusiasts. Not the “scare everyone senseless” type. They were the “fun costume, giant tub of candy, pretty lights and silly music type. Their emphasis was on the fun and generosity of the holiday, which made them a neighborhood favorite with the younger kids.

Bastion LOVED children. He had this wonderful innate sense of what to do with them. So, for our first Halloween Tracy sewed him a set of light weight fabric dog “saddlebags”. We filled them with lollipops for the little ones and settled them carefully on Bastion’s old back. He had the time of his life. He gave out 100+ lollipops that evening. I watched him encourage nervous children, wag his whole body for the excited ones and lie down and wait patiently for the ones afraid of dogs. If any child were too scared of shy Bastion would walk over to me, for me to get a lollipop for them and take it over to them while he waited by the porch.

One little girl was so scared of coming near him. So, in true Bastion style, he laid down and waited for her to feel comfortable coming to him. But they were having some back-and-forth progress. He’d lay there and look at her, she would start forward and then dash back to her dad a moment later. None of the adults could tell what was unnerving her. I watched closely and I realized every time the girl started toward Bastion he would “doggy smile” and because it was an open mouth smile, I asked her “Are you afraid of his teeth?” She nodded nervously. For all the world like he understood exactly what I asked and her answer, Bastion closed his mouth and kept it closed until after she approached, patted him and got her candy. He could not restrain his tail wags though.

I never bothered to hold his leash that whole night. A few adults and multiple teenagers noticed this, they all had the same reaction and tried to call Bastion away from me. They didn’t understand our bond. Bastion only left my side to greet a child then when the child left, he returned to my side to await the next, smiling up at me as I rubbed his ear. I never once needed to call him back or tell him to stay.

That was our best day ever. From preparing for it all morning and afternoon to 5,000 pieces of candy later. No. That's not hyperbole, I think I’m underestimating the count actually. Four hours after we started, we were both worn out after being on our feet but the happiest we’d ever been in our lives. It was the only day of my life that I'd been able to forget I have anxiety. I forgot my depression and the lifetime of trauma waiting in my head to pounce once the euphoria wore off. For one glorious day we were absolutely happy and normal. It was undoubtedly the best of our life.

I lost Bastion 6 months later. My mother’s refusal to ever let me take him to a veterinarian for any care had saddled my best friend with heartworm, which I poured all the money ($4,000) I earned into treating and he beat, as well as severe arthritis, elbow dysplasia, cataracts and eventual kidney insufficiency. His kidneys were the final blow. At 12 years and 10 months, while I was in my college computer class, Bastion laid down for a nap and did not wake up. He was gone by the time Tracy, who was home with him, rushed him to the vet and I met her there.

We had him cremated and his stone urn forever holds a spot on the table next to my bed. Bastion missed my wedding, our new house, and the births of my children. Halloween has never been the same for me, but I like to think that first one changed the narrative of my life, it gave me real hope for the first time and I will never forget it.