Whitman
May 1st, 1993 – May 3rd, 2007

We lost a valued member of the August Hour team today. Our friend and trusted confidante, Whitman.

In the spring of 1993, I brought home this amazing Golden Retriever puppy I called Whitman. Over the last 14 years, Whit’s been my constant friend and a huge part of my life; I find it impossible to describe. He’s been with me through the best and worst time of my life.

While he loved fetch, walks, steak and grass, what really made Whitty happy was being around all of his people.

Whit has been a part of every project August Hour has turned out. He’s been a part of every design, heard every note and yawned at every sogn before anyone else had a chance to. Ten years ago, he comforted my friend Jim when he lost his dog, Keaton. Later, he comforted me when I lost my friend Jim. When I would tour, he was there when we’d pull the van into the driveway in the wee hours of the morning at the end of a long tour. And he was perfectly content to sleep in with me until late that afternoon when I needed to catch up on missed sleep.

For many of you who are reading this, Whit heard your work before anyone else did. He’d lay his head in your lap when it was good and lay his head in your lap when it wasn’t so good. As long as you petted him, you were the best band on earth.

When it all came to pass, Whit chose his own end. Over the last few weeks he basically stopped eating. I took him to the vet last week and she found nothing wrong with him. His exam and tests were all normal and except for losing almost twenty pounds he was actually very healthy — especially that heart of his. After several days of confusion and frustration, I finally shut up and listened to what he was trying to tell me; he was done eating, he was done drinking, he was ready to go.

So, this morning the girls and I took Whitman to the vet’s office. She administered the injection and as his last breaths hung, I whispered in his ear that I remember everything, thanked him, and told him that he’s beautiful. After just a few seconds, Doctor Kelly tearfully told us he was gone. Whitty left us exactly the way he wanted; in the arms of his family.

So, what do I take from all of this, from these fourteen beautiful years I’ve been honored to share with my dog? On the way to the vet’s office, Whit and I listened to Alejandro’s record in the car. During Al’s song, Died a Little Today, Whit started yelping. He was singing along to Al, just like he’d done so many times before on the floor of our living room. I listened more closely to Al’s words in this song, and I heard the line that describes what Whit has been trying for fourteen years to teach me:

Gonna learn how to give
Not to simply get by
Or to barely hang on
For the sake of goodbye
Baby maybe you’ll know
We died a little today

If there’s anything to take from the last fourteen years, anything I draw comfort from, it’s from maybe, hopefully finally learning what Whit spent his life trying to teach me: ours is not to simply get by, but to learn how to give. If you’ve ever had a dog, you know what I mean.

Thanks everyone. And thanks Whit, I remember everything.

John

Another Man’s Done Gone
by Billy Bragg

Sometimes i think i’m gonna lose my mind
But it don’t look like i ever do
I loved so many people everywhere i went
Some too much, others not enough

I don’t know, i may go down or up or anywhere
But i feel like this scribbling might stay

Maybe if i hadn’t of seen so much hard feelings
I might not could have felt other people’s
So when you think of me, if and when you do,
Just say, well, another man’s done gone
Well, another man’s done gone