It's Never Easy

It's never easy to say goodbye, is it?  

This week has been a really difficult one for a reason that has caused me to not be very social.  It's the reason why I've stayed away from here until now.

J. is away for a business conference so I've been playing bachelorette most of the week.  Cooking for one is hard, so I've been going out by myself (which I also hate).  The dogs are freaked out and keep looking all over the house for him, only to finally give up and lay in the hallway so they can spring up and greet him when he comes home.  They finally fall asleep there, disappointed.

For a couple of weeks now, we've been watching our oldest Pomeranian, Foster, slowly deteriorate. It started with not being able to get up and down the stairs, so we carried her.  Then she stopped joining us in the parlor and stayed in the back room on her doggie bed.  Walking the 25 feet was just too much for her.  When J. left on Tuesday for his trip, I went off to work and came back to find her markedly worse.  She wouldn't eat or drink any water, and I carried her out to go potty and back in again.  That night, I told J. that he might come home to find Foster had left us.  Wednesday, I worked from home so that I could keep an eye on her.  I finally got her to eat some tiny bits of cheese and pork, but she couldn't keep anything down. Thursday came and she really couldn't keep her hind legs up.  I felt it was a race against time, as J. wasn't going to be home until Sunday. 

Last night, she could barely stand at all.

This morning, I ran Domino and Finn to the groomer and then raced back home again.  Foster had been breathing hard and I knew in my heart that her time was close.  It's odd how we sense these things, isn't it?  I gathered her up with me on the sofa, stroked her gently, and told her that we loved her, that she had been such a good dog, and that it was OK to leave us. 

She died in my arms about 20 minutes later.

I am a complete mess and sobbing like a baby right now.  Foster was the first dog that J. and I had together.  She was the most clever dog I've ever seen.  

 

One evening after we bought our house and had spent the day tearing down walls, we brought back some Arby's and had dinner sitting on the floor of what would finally be our master bedroom.  J. had bought one too many roast beef sandwiches, so he wrapped it back in the bag and sat it on a bottom shelf on the bookshelf thinking he would eat it later.  I didn't realize he had done that, but I kept seeing Foster going in that room.  For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what she was doing.  She was checking to make sure it was still there!  17 hours later, when we left the house, she went in there, grabbed it, unwrapped the roast beef sandwich and ate the whole thing!  The only evidence left was the wrapper in the middle of the floor.

And then there was the time she pulled a pizza box off the table and we came home to find her in the middle of the pizza.  She had eaten all the toppings off and left the crust.I think that's when we decided that we really outta do a better job of putting food away.

Foster had an invisibility cloak of some kind because, despite my keeping an eye on her constantly when she was a puppy, she could somehow disappear, reappear under the china cabinet, poop, and then reappear as if nothing had happened. I swear I never took my eyes off her!

Foster babysitting Finn as a puppy

When she was a baby, she looked like one of those "koosh balls".  All black fur, with no discernible legs, a little pink tongue and shiny black eyes.  She liked to chew on electrical cords, but somehow only the ones that weren't plugged in.  She certainly did a number on the feet of my computer desk.  Smart as a tack, she ruled the boys (Domino and Finn). 

 

And she had the most adorable "I'm going to bite you face" that you've ever seen.  She weighed only 12 pounds, so her teeth were the size of pencil points.  But she looked like the Mama Alien from that Aliens movie when she bared them.  

Foster and Domino.  A basket of orneriness!

Wow.  She graced our lives for 17 years and it's hard to believe she is gone. I'd like to think that she's off stalking roast beef sandwiches in a far better place now.

We love ya, sweet baby. 

Rolling With the Homies

I'm hangin' in the air conditioning with my gang of little furry playas.  And we all get ice cream because.....

It's National Dog Day!

Foster and I on the Internets, circa 1999

Have you smooched your pooch today?

No?

Well, what are you waiting for?!

It's Hug Your Dog Day

Actually, yesterday was and I missed it!  Not that I don't regularly love up my ornery little furry rapscallions every single day of their lives.

So I'm declaring today National Hug Your Dog Day II.  So get out there and give those pups some luvin'!

Our first Pomeranian, Foster.  Alpha dog that rules the house with an iron fist.  She has J. wrapped around her little paw and knows it.   Hobbies:  hiding, pooping under the china cabinet (as a puppy), ignorning Mom, eating Cheerios and humping dogs 3 times her size.
Age: 15 years old. 

WARNING:  The following picture contains gratuitous puppy pornography.  Parents, you've been warned.

Sometimes the victims don't have to be 3 times her size.  Poor Domino was trying to take a nap when he was the victim of a sneak attack here.

Finnegan, our middle child.  Answers to Finn, Finnebuka, Puka Smuka and a myriad of silly names that I've come up for him over the years.  Member of the 10th Street Fat Boy Club (along with J.)  Notoriously cranky when new people are around, which is where the Farm got its name.   Finn is in the center of the farm's logo.  Hobbies:  fierce protector of the house and yard from interlopers and mailman demons, snoozing on the loveseat next to Mom, finding snackies and a good arm-humpin' once in awhile.
Age: 8 years old

Look at that adorable face.  Is he not just the cutest little love bug?  Finn is a beaver (no, not the animal, silly!) which is just a description for his coloring.  His nose and poochie paw pads are brown instead of black.  He can melt you with one look from his big brown puppy eyes.

Heeeeerrrreeeeeee's Domino!  Our youngest furkid and fearless daredevil with 9 lives.  Answers to Domino, Donno, Puppy, Bootie and Muka.  Hobbies: Woohooing (anywhere but especially as fast as we can go through the house and over the furniture), smooching anybody that will sit still, licking my hoomans, getting puppy massages from Mom, stealing pork chops and cake off the counter, catching Cheerios out of the air and anything that anybody is eating.
Age: 5 years old

Like Finn, Domino's is a momma's boy and follows me through the house to be near me.  He is a true lover and thinks everyone is a friend just waiting to be met.  While Finn would try to bite you if you were in our house, Domino would try to kill you with kisses.  He is a true lovebug at heart.  Over the years, he has eaten several harnesses (didn't like those darn things), eaten mouse poison, and eaten a whole piece of stolen chocolate cake.  So now you know why we say he is part cat and has 9 lives. 

Well, those are the furry critters here at Cranky Puppy.  I'm being reminded now by Domino that I'm spending too much time on this computer and not enough time petting pooches, so I'll sign off now.

Have a great Hug Your Dog day, everyone!