by jphilo | Sep 23, 2011 | Family
Yesterday afternoon, our week took an unexpected turn when my brother’s wife texted with news about Abby, the dog. Our former pet’s health, which has been tenuous for the past month, was rapidly going downhill. An MRI showed a large mass on one of her ventricles, and the formerly perky, still quirky pooch was in heart failure. Did I want to come to the vet clinic, my sis-in-law wondered, to say good-bye before she took her home to die?
Hiram and I hurried over, arriving at the same time as her present owners. The vet brought the little doggie out, her tiny sides heaving with the struggle of breathing. It was obvious that the trip home would be a further misery to her. So my sister-in-law, who is soft-hearted toward all critters, but especially for one small, shallow, barky, and lovable red daschund, kindly decided to put the suffering dog to sleep.
But not until Abby, who loved food almost as much as she loved my sister-in-law, had one last meal. One whiff of the mound of soft dog food, and the little glutton rose to the occasion. She ate ravenously, with great gulps, licking the plate clean and lapping water afterwards.
She was curled up on my sister-in-law’s lap, as happy as a dog could be, while the vet administered the meds. Through our tears, we watched her breathing grow quiet and her body relax. Silently and sweetly, she slipped away.
Good-bye, silly dog
who caught grasshoppers and ate them,
who loved to lick the sweat off Hiram’s head after he went jogging,
who ate anything that hit the floor,
who hoarded chew bones to taunt her pack mates,
who loved playing more than napping,
who loved snuggling more than playing,
who loved eating more than snuggling,
who made us laugh the minute before you went away.
May the dog food be never-ending wherever you are today.
by jphilo | Aug 22, 2011 | Family
This is one of those days when we’re thankful our former pet, Abby the dog, moved in with my brother and sister-in-law. She went to live with them a few years back, after Anne went to college, and I started traveling more.
This weekend, while we were helping Anne and her husband move, my sister-in-law texted to say Abby had had a seizure. A bad one that required sedation. The next text said Abby was doing better, but today’s message said they’d started again.
Worse than ever.
My sister-in-law, who created dog heaven on earth for Abby since she joined their family, is taking this health turn for the worse very hard. She said it’s hard to watch this pipsqueak of a critter suffer so. I can’t imagine what she’s going through.
But I do know this.
If not for my sister-in-law’s soft heart and willingness to welcome our former pet into her home, Abby would have suffered much more this weekend, kenneled while we were gone or being cared for by a friend. We would have worried and driven too fast to get home to her. Still she might have thought we’d abandoned her.
Instead, Abby feels loved.
Today, even suffering seizures, our former doggy is not alone. She’s surrounded by people who will do everything they can to alleviate her suffering. People who will cry for her and care for her and attend to her every need.
Thank you, Val, for loving her so.
by jphilo | Feb 1, 2011 | Family
You may be surprised to see another recycled post, in light of Friday’s big news that the first draft of Different Dream Parenting is done. Really, truly, the recycled posts will end soon, but a grace period is needed until I catch up on all the things shoved into the “when the first draft is done” pile.
Perhaps this post from February 4, 2009 will put a smile on your face. The “yesterday’s worries” mentioned in the first line refer to the bitterly cold and snowy winter chronicled in the previous day’s post. Our weather’s a little better this winter (though as I write, snow is falling and a doozy of a storm is predicted for tonight), but Abby the dog remains unchanged. Her two constant, subliminal messages are “pet me, pet me” and “feed me, feed me.” She is as fickle as ever, as happy to live with my sister-in-law as ever, as demanding as ever, and a wonderful diversion in the middle of winter.
Pet Me, Pet Me
You’ll be glad to know that yesterday’s worries about driving elderly women around in the cold came to naught. By the time I picked them up, the car was toasty, and we found a perfect handicapped parking spot in the first lot we scoped out – six feet from the Applebee’s entrance. The pavement was dry, the sun was shining, and we talked the hours away.
It was the fickle dachshund we used to own that cast a pall on the afternoon. Normally, when I visit Mom, Abby tosses her hair over her shoulder, shrugs, and with her grey little nose in the air, turns away. If my sister-in-law, who is the love of Abby’s life is home, the dog doesn’t acknowledge me at all.
But yesterday, when I was working on Mom’s checkbook, a task which takes the coordinated effort of all my brain cells and absolutely no interruptions, Abby decided she loved me again. Of course, she didn’t really love me. She just wanted to use me, or at least my hand, which she decided should be petting her since she’s a whole lot cuter than Mom’s checkbook. At least that’s what she thinks, but the checkbook might have a different opinion.
Anyway, the dog hunkered down at my feet and stared at me, or rather at my hand, sending one of the two subliminal messages she knows. Pet me, pet me. In case you’re wondering, the second message is Feed me, feed me. The second subliminal message explains why Abby remained at my feet instead of on my lap. She’s gotten too fat to jump on the couch. So she stared and stared while I concentrated on recording deposits and withdrawals in the right column, something I routinely mess up in our checkbook, but not in Mom’s. I would never live it down.
Finally, the stare got to me, and I petted the dog. For a few minutes we were best friends again. She tried to make me feel like the center of her world, but I didn’t fall for the little scam. I reminded myself that the minute my sister-in-law walked through the door, the fickle, people-using dachshund would abandon me without a second thought. Having avoided a frigid lunch disaster, I wasn’t about to succumb to heartbreak at the paws of a cold-hearted canine.
I got home, heart intact, in time for supper with Hiram. I didn’t even mention our people-using ex-dog to him. Unlike me, he takes it personally.
by jphilo | Dec 15, 2010 | Family
The more things change, the more they stay the same as this recycled post from December of 2007 proves. Abby the dog weighs 3 – 4 pounds more than in the picture above and her muzzle is completely grey – think raccoon in reverse. Abby the dog still lives with my brother and his wife, and our former doggy thinks moving in with my sister-in-law is the best that ever happened to her, which it is. It’s so good, the joint custody agreement has been scrapped, and Abby’s new family now has sole custody.
So this holiday season, the dog won’t spend time at our house. Instead, I’m going to spend the night with her (and my mom) while the brother and sister-in-law are out of town. Should be lots of fun, since Abby no longer gives me the time of day…unless I have food in my hand. Kind of gives me a complex, if you want to know the truth, until I look on the bright side…if the dog throws up this year, it won’t be on my carpet!
The Dog Report – Recycled
The holidays are here, and in a joint custody home like ours that means we have Abby the dog for Christmas vacation. Between the arrival of the dog and the daughter, things are busy around here.
The dog is adjusting well, considering her fragile canine psyche. So far she’s slept twelve hours a night, in a concerted effort to help the college daughter catch up on a semester of lost sleep. She’s kept the sweat quotient at bay by licking Hiram’s head after he works out. And she’s upped my hot flash incidents by cramming her warm little body next to mine in the hours between my bedtime and the daughter’s.
She’s had a few neurotic episodes. The first one was Sunday morning when we all went to church and left her home alone. The second was when I went outside to chop ice a few days ago and she thought I’d abandoned her again. The third was yesterday when she drank to much water and threw up on our bedroom carpet.
Yesterday she got an Hallmark e-card from the dogs at her other house. They had a little help from my sister-in-law, I think. My sister-in-law’s dogs think of this kind of thing. Abby doesn’t. But when introduced to new concepts, she catches on pretty quick. With a little help from me, Abby sent a return e-card. She chose an interactive card that allows the recipients to dress a dachshund in human clothes.
I discovered the carpet vomit right after our Hallmark moment. Abby looked at me. I looked at Abby. I’m pretty sure we were thinking the same thing.
Life is way better when the dog is at the sister-in-law’s house.
by jphilo | Feb 4, 2009 | Family
You’ll be glad to know that yesterday’s worries about driving elderly women around in the cold came to naught. By the time I picked them up, the car was toasty, and we found a perfect handicapped parking spot in the first lot we scoped out – six feet from the Applebee’s entrance. The pavement was dry, the sun was shining, and we talked the hours away.
It was the fickle dachshund we used to own that cast a pall on the afternoon. Normally, when I visit Mom, Abby tosses her hair over her shoulder, shrugs, and with her grey little nose in the air, turns away. If my sister-in-law, who is the love of Abby’s life is home, the dog doesn’t acknowledge me at all.
But yesterday, when I was working on Mom’s checkbook, a task which takes the coordinated effort of all my brain cells and absolutely no interruptions, Abby decided she loved me again. Of course, she didn’t really love me. She just wanted to use me, or at least my hand, which she decided should be petting her since she’s a whole lot cuter than Mom’s checkbook. At least that’s what she thinks, but the checkbook might have a different opinion.
Anyway, the dog hunkered down at my feet and stared at me, or rather at my hand, sending one of the two subliminal messages she knows. Pet me, pet me. In case you’re wondering, the second message is Feed me, feed me. The second subliminal message explains why Abby remained at my feet instead of on my lap. She’s gotten too fat to jump on the couch. So she stared and stared while I concentrated on recording deposits and withdrawals in the right column, something I routinely mess up in our checkbook, but not in Mom’s. I would never live it down.
Finally, the stare got to me, and I petted the dog. For a few minutes we were best friends again. She tried to make me feel like the center of her world, but I didn’t fall for the little scam. I reminded myself that the minute my sister-in-law walked through the door, the fickle, people-using dachshund would abandon me without a second thought. Having avoided a frigid lunch disaster, I wasn’t about to succumb to heartbreak at the paws of a cold-hearted canine.
I got home, heart intact, in time for supper with Hiram. I didn’t even mention our people-using ex-dog to him. Unlike me, he takes it personally.
