The dog with the crooked tail.
I was 13 years old. It had been a year since my family had returned from vacation to find that our 3-year-old epileptic collie had died while we were gone. Even though I cried the most about losing her, I was the one ready soonest for another dog. Our small town's animal shelter was just a few blocks from our house, so over that year I went there many times. There were several dogs that I liked over that time, but I could never get my parents to go see any of them. I guess they weren't ready.
One day I went there and there was a new litter of mixed breed puppies just a month or two old. They were all adorable, but the one that stood out to me was the runt of the litter. At first she tried to fight her bigger siblings to get up to the front of the cage so she could get attention too, but they kept pushing her out of the way. She went a few feet back, sat down, and just looked at me with her ears back.
I was smitten. That night I went on and on to my parents about this little dog, and finally they agreed to go with me to see her. When we went into the little room where you can meet the dogs and play with them, I sat on the floor. As soon as the employee put this little dog down, she crawled into my lap and laid down. Oh boy, was I smitten. It was then that we noticed that her tail was kind of candy cane-shaped; it had a crook at the end. It looked a little silly, but we thought it was cool, and certainly unique. The employee told us that some other people had looked at her but they decided they didn't like that crooked tail. Their loss.
We took that little puppy home with us. We went through a baby name book, and one name stood out to us: Mandy. She learned things very quickly; she was extremely intelligent and loving. She loved to sleep on blankets and pillows, and especially had a thing for "caves" - under beds or desks or anywhere, really, where she had a roof.
She even helped me with school...
Legally she was my parents' dog, but other than that she was mine. It seemed like she knew that I was the one who had found her and rescued her out of that place where she had to fight for attention and never got to eat any cheese (her favorite food). She and I had a special relationship. When I went away to college my mom kept the door to my room closed, but often found Mandy sleeping outside it. When college breaks were coming up, I would tell my friends, "I can't wait to see my dog! Oh - and my family." When I got married and lived 3 hours away, much of what I looked forward to on weekends we came up to visit my family was that I got to see her. And when Isaac and I moved to Jax and got our own little house, we began having "joint custody" with my parents; they got her half the week, and we got her half the week.
She approved of Isaac the first time she met him...
We taught her new tricks when she was 8 years old, disproving the adage about old dogs and new tricks. She had quite the repertoire, including a jumping 360º spin. She never seemed to age, but maybe that's because her face still looked like a puppy's. People were always shocked to hear her age. I remember one time when a man asked how old she is and I told him she was 11. He said, "11 months?" I said, "No, 11 years." He was shocked. It was relatively recently that my mom and I noticed that she somehow looked older. And it was even more recent that we noticed she didn't jump on the couch or to peek out the window like she used to. At the end of last week I noticed she was having trouble walking. Things degenerated quickly. The past few days she could not even stand. She kept getting stuck in corners. It was terrible. After watching her in pain, trying to help her as best I could, carrying her places... we realized it was time to say goodbye. I couldn't stand the thought of making her wait another 24 hours in pain like she had been, so with Mom's brokenhearted consent (but at least she had come to see her yesterday), Isaac and I took her to the vet. We held her and petted her till she was gone. I've never had to put a pet to sleep before. I hope I never do again. I still can't believe she's gone. She's been my companion since I was 13 years old. That's half my life. She was with me when I cried about boys as a teen, always waiting eagerly and loving me when I finally returned from college, comforted me when I cried because I missed Isaac and my favorite aunt died and my brothers did stupid things, and she totally knew which day was Sunday because even before I got there to pick her up to take her to my house, my parents said she would perk up and be out and about more than usual. If we came over on another day and didn't take her with us, she would be so disappointed.
She was the best dog ever. People often say that and it's usually a bias thing that you can't fault them for. But I've heard other people with dogs say that they wish their dog was more like Mandy. Numerous people regularly threatened to steal her. She won over avowed cat people (several said, "If all dogs were like her, I'd have one!") and people who claimed not to like dogs. One Christmas we were with family at a hotel, talking out in the lobby, and Mandy was with us. The hotel clerk said, "Boy, I wish the kids who stayed in this place were half as well-behaved as that dog!" You couldn't not love Mandy. And that's what makes saying goodbye so, so hard.
I keep trying to convince myself that she's just at my parents' like every other time I haven't had her with me, but it's not working. I saw her go. I held her. Even Isaac cried... and he never cries.
Goodbye, sweet puppy. I don't know if our pets go to heaven, but if there was ever one to deserve it, it's you. I miss you so much.
To those of you who prayed for her in her last days, thank you. It means a lot to me. Please keep praying for me and my mom and the rest of my family though. This has been really, really rough day.
One day I went there and there was a new litter of mixed breed puppies just a month or two old. They were all adorable, but the one that stood out to me was the runt of the litter. At first she tried to fight her bigger siblings to get up to the front of the cage so she could get attention too, but they kept pushing her out of the way. She went a few feet back, sat down, and just looked at me with her ears back.
I was smitten. That night I went on and on to my parents about this little dog, and finally they agreed to go with me to see her. When we went into the little room where you can meet the dogs and play with them, I sat on the floor. As soon as the employee put this little dog down, she crawled into my lap and laid down. Oh boy, was I smitten. It was then that we noticed that her tail was kind of candy cane-shaped; it had a crook at the end. It looked a little silly, but we thought it was cool, and certainly unique. The employee told us that some other people had looked at her but they decided they didn't like that crooked tail. Their loss.
We took that little puppy home with us. We went through a baby name book, and one name stood out to us: Mandy. She learned things very quickly; she was extremely intelligent and loving. She loved to sleep on blankets and pillows, and especially had a thing for "caves" - under beds or desks or anywhere, really, where she had a roof.
She even helped me with school...
Legally she was my parents' dog, but other than that she was mine. It seemed like she knew that I was the one who had found her and rescued her out of that place where she had to fight for attention and never got to eat any cheese (her favorite food). She and I had a special relationship. When I went away to college my mom kept the door to my room closed, but often found Mandy sleeping outside it. When college breaks were coming up, I would tell my friends, "I can't wait to see my dog! Oh - and my family." When I got married and lived 3 hours away, much of what I looked forward to on weekends we came up to visit my family was that I got to see her. And when Isaac and I moved to Jax and got our own little house, we began having "joint custody" with my parents; they got her half the week, and we got her half the week.
She approved of Isaac the first time she met him...
We taught her new tricks when she was 8 years old, disproving the adage about old dogs and new tricks. She had quite the repertoire, including a jumping 360º spin. She never seemed to age, but maybe that's because her face still looked like a puppy's. People were always shocked to hear her age. I remember one time when a man asked how old she is and I told him she was 11. He said, "11 months?" I said, "No, 11 years." He was shocked. It was relatively recently that my mom and I noticed that she somehow looked older. And it was even more recent that we noticed she didn't jump on the couch or to peek out the window like she used to. At the end of last week I noticed she was having trouble walking. Things degenerated quickly. The past few days she could not even stand. She kept getting stuck in corners. It was terrible. After watching her in pain, trying to help her as best I could, carrying her places... we realized it was time to say goodbye. I couldn't stand the thought of making her wait another 24 hours in pain like she had been, so with Mom's brokenhearted consent (but at least she had come to see her yesterday), Isaac and I took her to the vet. We held her and petted her till she was gone. I've never had to put a pet to sleep before. I hope I never do again. I still can't believe she's gone. She's been my companion since I was 13 years old. That's half my life. She was with me when I cried about boys as a teen, always waiting eagerly and loving me when I finally returned from college, comforted me when I cried because I missed Isaac and my favorite aunt died and my brothers did stupid things, and she totally knew which day was Sunday because even before I got there to pick her up to take her to my house, my parents said she would perk up and be out and about more than usual. If we came over on another day and didn't take her with us, she would be so disappointed.
She was the best dog ever. People often say that and it's usually a bias thing that you can't fault them for. But I've heard other people with dogs say that they wish their dog was more like Mandy. Numerous people regularly threatened to steal her. She won over avowed cat people (several said, "If all dogs were like her, I'd have one!") and people who claimed not to like dogs. One Christmas we were with family at a hotel, talking out in the lobby, and Mandy was with us. The hotel clerk said, "Boy, I wish the kids who stayed in this place were half as well-behaved as that dog!" You couldn't not love Mandy. And that's what makes saying goodbye so, so hard.
I keep trying to convince myself that she's just at my parents' like every other time I haven't had her with me, but it's not working. I saw her go. I held her. Even Isaac cried... and he never cries.
Goodbye, sweet puppy. I don't know if our pets go to heaven, but if there was ever one to deserve it, it's you. I miss you so much.
To those of you who prayed for her in her last days, thank you. It means a lot to me. Please keep praying for me and my mom and the rest of my family though. This has been really, really rough day.