Squirt's Mom
06-05-2011, 06:30 PM
“Hey, Les? You better come quick...”
Those words brought you into my home and into my life. I came, and what I found stopped my heart. It was Nov., cold and you had been abandoned in an empty house. You were just 7 weeks old, a bag of skin and bones, emaciated. You were too weak to raise your head but I saw that tail give a flop and knew you had moxie.
A touch of honey and a few drops of water later, you looked into my eyes and showed me your strength. After every drop of honey, every swallow of water, I would hold your face in my hands and put my lips close to yours so I would know your breath still flowed. A few minutes later, after more water and honey, your little tongue, cold as ice, slipped out and kissed me, stealing my heart. Not too long after that first kiss, we were flying out the door to your first of many vet visits.
Dr. Oleson immediately commented that you had a very strong will to live to have survived at all. What she couldn’t see was what a huge, loving heart you had, that in spite of the terrible way you had been treated you had so much to give. After the exam, I asked her what breed she thought you were and she said, “Pit Bull. Maybe not full blood, but definitely Pit.” Man! Was I surprised! She also said something about your stance, that we would keep an eye on it; some good nutrition and building up your strength was the priority.
The weeks and months passed and you grew into a honey-colored, golden-eyed beauty, full of life and mischief, earning the nickname Demon Dog. You brought so much laughter to my life! Once it warmed up, you decided playing outside was a good thing and found all sorts of things to get into. Standing in Gary’s little wagon, splashing rain water; bee hunting in the monkey grass; digging up mole tunnels with Belle, both of you coming caked in mud; watching the neighbor’s dog through a crack in the board fence, first with one eye and then the other; and, of course, aggravating Squirt, Ruby and Goldie every chance you got.
Our first few days, I will never forget. Our last awful day, less than two years later, I will never forget. That last kiss and hug from you, I will never forget. But it is the memories between that sustain me.
I remember the day I left my nice, fresh, clean bubble bath to go downstairs for a glass of tea and returned to find you sitting in the middle of my bubbles, proud as could be. You were constantly trying to share my bubble baths and when I wouldn’t let you in, you would lay your head on the edge of the tub, watching, offering an occasional pleading whine.
I remember the hilarious game you would play with your back legs. You would be playing with a toy and see one of your back legs…all of a sudden you would twist and snap at it! When you caught it you would pull yourself right down to the floor, rolling over and over chewing on one leg then the other for daring to cross your line of sight! You would finally give up on making them go away and try to run away from them, looking over your back as if to say, “OMG! They’re still after me!”
I remember you following me up and down the stairs, from room to room, or simply standing quietly behind me, all the time with the tail end of my dress in your mouth. When I would acknowledge your presence, you would take off…knowing I would chase you.
I remember you sleeping on the bed beside me, on your back, with one front leg up in the air, stiff up to the ankle. After a little while, you would slowly lower the raised leg to lie curled on your chest and slowly raise and stiffen the other front leg, flip the ankle and never miss a beat in the snoring!
I remember when we crate trained you - we had to keep a cover over your crate like a bird or you would talk to us all nite long. You never did outgrow that!
I remember you eating the brand new micro-suede couch…and the carpet, doors, the door frames, socks, underwear, shoes, toys, rocks, dirt, sticks, Azaleas, wire, electronic games, toothpicks, plastic….well, everything except glass, I think! You even ate 3 muzzles off your face before we got the Hannibal Lector one made especially for you.
I remember at meal times, you were the only quiet one. Everyone else is barking and carrying on but you just sat so calm, watching my every move with intense interest, and maybe a drool or two, but not a peep. You were always so gentle when taking a treat. No snatching or gobbling for you. Very softly your lips would take the offering and oh so politely you would chew and swallow, looking up with hope for another tidbit.
I remember how hard you were on toys. You loved your Kong, especially when it had frozen bananas and peanut butter in it! I thought I had finally found something else you couldn’t destroy – deer antlers. But you had that thing in splinters in less than a day to the amazement of the pet food store manager. Then we found Bully Sticks! You would gnaw and gnaw then when you got tired, you would search frantically for a safe spot to “bury” it – in the clothes hamper, under the rugs, in the plants…and spend hours going to check on it, often moving it.
I remember how tender and loving you were with Shasta, as if you remembered wanting someone to play with when you were a puppy. You let her pull your face as hard as she could and you never even flinched. You would roll her over with your paw to lick her belly then play chase with her when she “escaped”. She often fell asleep on you, both of you exhausted from playing. You adored her, and she, you. I know you are taking good care of her now, too.
I remember when we moved to Arkansas you wanted to go home so badly that when you went out, you would go to the truck and scratch the doors. Day by day, you came to understand this was now home and that it was a good place to be! So many new smells and wonderful new things to eat and roll in like - horse poop! Before long, you loved it here and wanted to be outside all the time. Someone recently told me about a buffing compound that “will take those scratches right out.” I looked at the door panel, looked back at them, smiled and shook my head, “no thanks.” It’s like the door to Gia’s bedroom. When she was little, I told her she could “write” on the door only – and she did just that until she was grown. A friend once told me I needed to put a new door up and I told her the same thing…no thanks. Her bedroom door and the truck doors each tell a story, and they are ones I cherish.
When my job here is done, I know you will be waiting at the end of that Bridge with Gia. The joy at seeing your faces again will cause my feet to dance and my voice to rise in song as I rush across to join you.
Thank you for being my Demon Dog, my beautiful golden-eyed girl. I will always love you.
Those words brought you into my home and into my life. I came, and what I found stopped my heart. It was Nov., cold and you had been abandoned in an empty house. You were just 7 weeks old, a bag of skin and bones, emaciated. You were too weak to raise your head but I saw that tail give a flop and knew you had moxie.
A touch of honey and a few drops of water later, you looked into my eyes and showed me your strength. After every drop of honey, every swallow of water, I would hold your face in my hands and put my lips close to yours so I would know your breath still flowed. A few minutes later, after more water and honey, your little tongue, cold as ice, slipped out and kissed me, stealing my heart. Not too long after that first kiss, we were flying out the door to your first of many vet visits.
Dr. Oleson immediately commented that you had a very strong will to live to have survived at all. What she couldn’t see was what a huge, loving heart you had, that in spite of the terrible way you had been treated you had so much to give. After the exam, I asked her what breed she thought you were and she said, “Pit Bull. Maybe not full blood, but definitely Pit.” Man! Was I surprised! She also said something about your stance, that we would keep an eye on it; some good nutrition and building up your strength was the priority.
The weeks and months passed and you grew into a honey-colored, golden-eyed beauty, full of life and mischief, earning the nickname Demon Dog. You brought so much laughter to my life! Once it warmed up, you decided playing outside was a good thing and found all sorts of things to get into. Standing in Gary’s little wagon, splashing rain water; bee hunting in the monkey grass; digging up mole tunnels with Belle, both of you coming caked in mud; watching the neighbor’s dog through a crack in the board fence, first with one eye and then the other; and, of course, aggravating Squirt, Ruby and Goldie every chance you got.
Our first few days, I will never forget. Our last awful day, less than two years later, I will never forget. That last kiss and hug from you, I will never forget. But it is the memories between that sustain me.
I remember the day I left my nice, fresh, clean bubble bath to go downstairs for a glass of tea and returned to find you sitting in the middle of my bubbles, proud as could be. You were constantly trying to share my bubble baths and when I wouldn’t let you in, you would lay your head on the edge of the tub, watching, offering an occasional pleading whine.
I remember the hilarious game you would play with your back legs. You would be playing with a toy and see one of your back legs…all of a sudden you would twist and snap at it! When you caught it you would pull yourself right down to the floor, rolling over and over chewing on one leg then the other for daring to cross your line of sight! You would finally give up on making them go away and try to run away from them, looking over your back as if to say, “OMG! They’re still after me!”
I remember you following me up and down the stairs, from room to room, or simply standing quietly behind me, all the time with the tail end of my dress in your mouth. When I would acknowledge your presence, you would take off…knowing I would chase you.
I remember you sleeping on the bed beside me, on your back, with one front leg up in the air, stiff up to the ankle. After a little while, you would slowly lower the raised leg to lie curled on your chest and slowly raise and stiffen the other front leg, flip the ankle and never miss a beat in the snoring!
I remember when we crate trained you - we had to keep a cover over your crate like a bird or you would talk to us all nite long. You never did outgrow that!
I remember you eating the brand new micro-suede couch…and the carpet, doors, the door frames, socks, underwear, shoes, toys, rocks, dirt, sticks, Azaleas, wire, electronic games, toothpicks, plastic….well, everything except glass, I think! You even ate 3 muzzles off your face before we got the Hannibal Lector one made especially for you.
I remember at meal times, you were the only quiet one. Everyone else is barking and carrying on but you just sat so calm, watching my every move with intense interest, and maybe a drool or two, but not a peep. You were always so gentle when taking a treat. No snatching or gobbling for you. Very softly your lips would take the offering and oh so politely you would chew and swallow, looking up with hope for another tidbit.
I remember how hard you were on toys. You loved your Kong, especially when it had frozen bananas and peanut butter in it! I thought I had finally found something else you couldn’t destroy – deer antlers. But you had that thing in splinters in less than a day to the amazement of the pet food store manager. Then we found Bully Sticks! You would gnaw and gnaw then when you got tired, you would search frantically for a safe spot to “bury” it – in the clothes hamper, under the rugs, in the plants…and spend hours going to check on it, often moving it.
I remember how tender and loving you were with Shasta, as if you remembered wanting someone to play with when you were a puppy. You let her pull your face as hard as she could and you never even flinched. You would roll her over with your paw to lick her belly then play chase with her when she “escaped”. She often fell asleep on you, both of you exhausted from playing. You adored her, and she, you. I know you are taking good care of her now, too.
I remember when we moved to Arkansas you wanted to go home so badly that when you went out, you would go to the truck and scratch the doors. Day by day, you came to understand this was now home and that it was a good place to be! So many new smells and wonderful new things to eat and roll in like - horse poop! Before long, you loved it here and wanted to be outside all the time. Someone recently told me about a buffing compound that “will take those scratches right out.” I looked at the door panel, looked back at them, smiled and shook my head, “no thanks.” It’s like the door to Gia’s bedroom. When she was little, I told her she could “write” on the door only – and she did just that until she was grown. A friend once told me I needed to put a new door up and I told her the same thing…no thanks. Her bedroom door and the truck doors each tell a story, and they are ones I cherish.
When my job here is done, I know you will be waiting at the end of that Bridge with Gia. The joy at seeing your faces again will cause my feet to dance and my voice to rise in song as I rush across to join you.
Thank you for being my Demon Dog, my beautiful golden-eyed girl. I will always love you.