All Dogs (and cats) Go to Heaven
well I found out yesterday that last weekend, Jasmine and Snickers were put to sleep. I knew it was coming but I was still shocked. They are both such fixtures at the house that I never imagined them not being there.
Poor Snickers was battling cancer for who knows how long. I guess it wouldnt have been humane to let her keep going on, fighting something she wouldnt win. I picked her out myself: my dad told me if I got accepted to Nazareth Academy and decided to go, I could get a kitten. he also said that I had to name it "Snickers" since that is his favorite candy bar. My brother's friend, Casey, had a cat who had just had kittens so we walked down there and I picked her out of the cardboard box and took her home.
She was a very independent cat-she didn't like to be picked up alot and played with-she preferred to just go about her day and do cat things like sleep and hunt for birds and mice. If she decided to curl up with you, it was always on her terms. At the old house, she figured out that she could get outside by going through our mailbox, and so it became her personal entrance to the world. When she wantd to come back inside, she would get up onto the roof and sit outside my window and tap the glass with her paws until I woke up and opened it for her. She continued doing this after we moved to the new house-meowing at the front door until we woke up to see her little head silouetted against the moonlight.
And Jasmine. . .but what can I say about Jasmine that hasn't been said a thousand times fold? She was a Christmas present to my brother and me. I was 10 years old and had been begging "Santa" for a dog for years. When we finally got one, it was in the form of a barking, slobbering, shivering, eating machine that never seemed to grasp the idea of "NO!" This dog ate EVERYTHING: sticks of butter, cans (literally, metal cans) of catfood, sticks of butter, tomatoes from the garden, a gingerbread house, my brother's glasses, my Minnie Mouse watch, loaves of pepperoni bread for the church bake sale. . .nothing was off limits to her. Perhaps it is why she had such bad breath. Almost as bad as her breath was the way she smelled after going for a swim in the Erie Canal.
She loved the water-there's a creek in our neighborhood and when we got close to it on a walk, she would literally drag whoever was on the other end of the leash down the sidewalk-running as fast as her legs could carry her until the creek was in sight at which point she would make a dead stop to just stare at the flowing water. She was impossible to control-never learned to "stay" or "heel". She learned how to "sit" and my dad actually did teach her how to "shake". Although she was never completely housebroken and we eventually just gave up on trying to teach her-she was incorrigible.
And yet, on cold winter mornings I'd awake to find her sleeping on the foot of my bed, or beside it on the floor. I'd hear her breathing and reach my hand down to pet her fur. I'd hear the click-clack of her nails on the wooden floors and the soft thumping of her paws on the stairs as she moved from room to room-sticking her cold nose in the face of each family member as if she were checking on us.
When I went out to deliver newspapers on Saturday mornings, I'd return to see Jasmine waiting for me on the porch like an anxious parent.
years pass and people age-animals are no exception to time either. They actually age faster and so it is inevitable that they leave this life before people. Jasmine was 15 years old: her hearing had long left her and her brown eyes were now blue-ish with cataracts. The puppy who never wanted to slow down was now an old dog that could hardly walk.
This observation is made by everyone who has ever loved a dog but it is always deeply personal. She was a bad dog, but she was also the best.
Jasmine and Snickers used to sleep together-in the basement or in the garage. They did not come into my life at the same time, but they left at the same time. It is only unfortunate for me because it is twice the sadness. But for them, they have someone to keep them company, and sleep with forever.
RIP Jasmine: 1992-2008
RIP Snickers: 1996-2008
Poor Snickers was battling cancer for who knows how long. I guess it wouldnt have been humane to let her keep going on, fighting something she wouldnt win. I picked her out myself: my dad told me if I got accepted to Nazareth Academy and decided to go, I could get a kitten. he also said that I had to name it "Snickers" since that is his favorite candy bar. My brother's friend, Casey, had a cat who had just had kittens so we walked down there and I picked her out of the cardboard box and took her home.
She was a very independent cat-she didn't like to be picked up alot and played with-she preferred to just go about her day and do cat things like sleep and hunt for birds and mice. If she decided to curl up with you, it was always on her terms. At the old house, she figured out that she could get outside by going through our mailbox, and so it became her personal entrance to the world. When she wantd to come back inside, she would get up onto the roof and sit outside my window and tap the glass with her paws until I woke up and opened it for her. She continued doing this after we moved to the new house-meowing at the front door until we woke up to see her little head silouetted against the moonlight.
And Jasmine. . .but what can I say about Jasmine that hasn't been said a thousand times fold? She was a Christmas present to my brother and me. I was 10 years old and had been begging "Santa" for a dog for years. When we finally got one, it was in the form of a barking, slobbering, shivering, eating machine that never seemed to grasp the idea of "NO!" This dog ate EVERYTHING: sticks of butter, cans (literally, metal cans) of catfood, sticks of butter, tomatoes from the garden, a gingerbread house, my brother's glasses, my Minnie Mouse watch, loaves of pepperoni bread for the church bake sale. . .nothing was off limits to her. Perhaps it is why she had such bad breath. Almost as bad as her breath was the way she smelled after going for a swim in the Erie Canal.
She loved the water-there's a creek in our neighborhood and when we got close to it on a walk, she would literally drag whoever was on the other end of the leash down the sidewalk-running as fast as her legs could carry her until the creek was in sight at which point she would make a dead stop to just stare at the flowing water. She was impossible to control-never learned to "stay" or "heel". She learned how to "sit" and my dad actually did teach her how to "shake". Although she was never completely housebroken and we eventually just gave up on trying to teach her-she was incorrigible.
And yet, on cold winter mornings I'd awake to find her sleeping on the foot of my bed, or beside it on the floor. I'd hear her breathing and reach my hand down to pet her fur. I'd hear the click-clack of her nails on the wooden floors and the soft thumping of her paws on the stairs as she moved from room to room-sticking her cold nose in the face of each family member as if she were checking on us.
When I went out to deliver newspapers on Saturday mornings, I'd return to see Jasmine waiting for me on the porch like an anxious parent.
years pass and people age-animals are no exception to time either. They actually age faster and so it is inevitable that they leave this life before people. Jasmine was 15 years old: her hearing had long left her and her brown eyes were now blue-ish with cataracts. The puppy who never wanted to slow down was now an old dog that could hardly walk.
This observation is made by everyone who has ever loved a dog but it is always deeply personal. She was a bad dog, but she was also the best.
Jasmine and Snickers used to sleep together-in the basement or in the garage. They did not come into my life at the same time, but they left at the same time. It is only unfortunate for me because it is twice the sadness. But for them, they have someone to keep them company, and sleep with forever.
RIP Jasmine: 1992-2008
RIP Snickers: 1996-2008