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Loss of a Beloved Dog

Recently I have had several friends that have lost a dear beloved dog.  As they are talking about their dog to me, remembering their little tricks and habits, it was all I could do to not sob.

I want to be the kind of friend that allows my friends to talk about their sweet dog if it helps their grieving process.  I  know way too soon, I will be needing them to listen to me about the loss of my sweet girl who is 14 years old, now.

I remember how I got my very first Standard Wirehaired Dachshund.  My family had always had smooth dachshunds.  Fritz was so special to me.  I was more of a dog person than my sisters when we were growing up.  My sister, Debbie, loved cats and my other sister had a bird and a white mouse.  There was this couple that walked around my tiny Georgia town.  Everyone knew that they weren't quite right in the head!  One day they just decided to take Fritz out of our yard and walk off with him. Even though my Dad knew where he was, he wouldn't allow me to go after him and until this day, I don't know why he didn't go after him.  As it turned out before any of us could go retrieve him, this couple's shack of a house burned down.  Our town volunteer firemen found Fritz tied the the bed and there was nothing they could do for him.

I must have cried for weeks for him.  I felt like my teen-aged heart was going to explode with grief.  I didn't really think I could talk to anyone about it.  My boyfriend at the time was nice enough to listen to me, but he was a kid and his patience was going to run out about the topic.  So, I just kept most of my feelings to myself.  Little did I know that there was someone in my town that understood exactly how I felt.

Dr. Lavender, our small town vet asked my boyfriend to bring me to his office after school.  When we arrived, the doctor took me to one of the small exam rooms with a Dutch door on it.  The top half of the  door was open and he was holding my hand when he had me peek over on the far right back corner.  There was the most magnificent wirehaired dachshund with her litter of puppies.  The puppies were about 12 weeks old, fat, shiny and wiggly.  They were rolling and playing with each other.  Dr. Lavender changed my life that day.  He told me he was sorry about Fritz and he understood how sad I was.  He went on to explain that Fritz was a one and only and could never be replaced, but that he was fairly certain that he knew Fritz well enough to know that he would not want me to stay sad and he would want me to have another puppy to love.  Dr. Lavender said the sweetest words I ever heard.  "This is  my girl and her puppies.  I want you to have the pick of the litter to love."  

I rushed into the exam room, flopped down on the floor amongst all the playing puppies.  I picked up each one.  I allowed them to crawl on me.  This was going to be a big decision and I wanted it to be the right one.  After about an hour, I had made my decision.  I picked a chubby little girl, that didn't mind being cradled on her back in my arms. She licked my nose.  She would hop around me and run back to my lap.  She was the one. 

She was a gorgeous wheaten colour (light red).  Smart would be an understatement.  More like brilliant.  She was my constant companion.  She was perfect.  She could sit up on her haunches forever and you couldn't even push her over.  She would play for hours retrieving a ball.  She was the damnest dog to take fishing.   If you tried to go without her in the boat, she would swim after you until you gave up and hauled her into the boat.  If you tried to fish with a bobber, she would swim after it and bring it back.  She loved to dive under the water and bring up terrapin turtles from the bottom.  

I had to leave her behind when I went off to school and when I left for a job in another state.  My family would not even consider allowing her to leave home. I loved to go home so I could see her.  She lived to the rip old age of 15.  Talk about an entire family grieving.  It has been 31 years since she crossed the Rainbow Bridge and I am still grieving for her.  Her name was Cognac.  She was a wonderful girl and I still love her.  


Now, I wait, for my sweet Chloe who is 14,

Chloe

to say goodbye.  Some days she is spry as a puppy and others she barely gets up except to eat and potty.  So for now, I will stroke her head, let her lick my face, throw the ball that she may or may not go after and just be together.

Go ahead, grieve for your sweet dog.  Take time off work if you need it.  Find a way to memorialise your dog.  I kept Cognac's collar and tags.  Talk to a friend or don't talk, whichever is right for you.  Grieving is your right and you should feel free to do it and do it your way.

       Storyteller

Ron Pearson

In today's computer-age, there are so many opportunities to meet wonderful storytellers.  I    was reading a post of a member of Canadian Show Dogs and was enthralled.  When I 

Spirit

finished reading his accounts of his two dogs, I was craving to know more.  Ron Pearson lives in Dugald, Manitoba with his wife, Kirby, a 9 year old Black and White Siberian Husky rescue named Spirit, Balla, an 8 year old lovingly called a Norway Houseky and he is also a rescue and to round out the clan are 4 cats.  Ron's wife has a grooming business they call Husky Howllow.  Here is one of Ron's stories.  He promises to 

Balla

entertain my readers with more stories in the future.  He also wants to tell all of us about allowing our dogs to be blood donors.  Spirit and Balla are donors.  

     The Farmers Market

 

Saturday at the Farmer's Market Spirit and I were wandering around the vendors saying Hi to familiar faces and introducing ourselves to new
ones. Some old friends were missing and we hope they will be at future
markets (this years market opened two weeks early)

At any rate there was one familiar face that Spirit dragged me over to
see. A fellow and his wife come to a few markets during the season to
sell their smoked trout, hand raised chicken and other goodies. They
offer samples of their goodies and this is what Spirit had retained in
the recesses of her convoluted minds. She had met them twice last year.

She parked herself in front of Tom, the vendor and gave him a few Wuffs,
pats with her paw and lots of wiggle butt to let him know she was there.
Naturally Tom had a tray with samples in his hands and this is what
Spirit was keying on. His wife was laughing her head off and petting
Spirit. A few samples later Spirit persuaded me that we really needed
to take home some trout (that was my plan anyway) so I bought some for
supper. Even got a discount because Spirit's antics attracted a few
other people who also made a purchase.

Looks like it will be another summer of fun at the Market.
Spirit, by-the-way, is a Siberian Husky.

PS: Spirit (and Balla) really enjoy the skin from the fish as a special
treat which they got after their house time last night. There were drool
puddles on the floor and ignored cookies when they realized just what
they were getting. Spirit sure is no fool dog.

Remember to watch for "Nice Deeds".  They are happening all around us.  Let's talk about the people helping others.   Send your "Nice Deeds" to me at djenkins@shaw.ca 

Be sure to go to Canuck Dogs, http://www.canuckdogs.com, to see all the upcoming events and to check stats.  You should  bookmark it.  That's where you will find my blog. 

                                                                     XXXOOO