In Memoriam - My Four Legged Best Friend
Mom named her Angel, but my younger brother and I called her Stinky (short for Capt. Stinky Nuts - don't ask). Mom discovered her in the animal shelter at the veterinary clinic that she worked at as a groomer. She was a little Bichon Frise, which, at the time, I had no idea was a breed of dog. She looked like a squat poodle when I first saw her. When Mom put her down on the floor, she didn't jump up on my leg, trying to get my attention or bark incessantly. She just looked up at me, hopefully, as we stood in that small room full of yapping dogs in cages. She needed a home, and Mom was hellbent on making that home with us.
At first, I was skeptical of her. I was only a junior in high school and wanted a dog who would play with you and do tricks. Stinky didn't do any of that. She was quiet. Rarely she would bark, and only meekly. No fetch. No roll over. No beg (well, not when you wanted her to). But as time passed, I grew fond of her. Sure, she wasn't as playful as other dogs, but she was sweet, loving, and affectionate (one of the best qualities of Bichons). I loved doting on her and cuddling her. She loved getting her belly rubbed. She even gave me smooches when I pressed my face up to her. She was smart, too. I mean, it's one thing for a dog to recognize its name, but Stinky had two names and understood that both of them referred to her. Heck, I even tried giving her a nickname (I sometimes called her Pupi, which I pronounce like "Poopie", which may sound gross).
I remember, in the early mornings, Mom would open my door and let Stinky in. Mom would make me call her up to the bed so she would jump up and nestle in bed with me. Even though she woke me up to go to the bathroom half the time (which annoyed me), I loved the feeling of her all snuggled up at my feet. Don't get me started about the winter, though. I'd hear Stinky whining at the foot of my bed and I'd get up and go downstairs and follow her out into the snow covered deck in the backyard and waited outside while she peed in the snow. I did all this in nothing but a t-shirt and boxer shorts. I must have been too tired to care how insane that was.
When my brother and I moved out, I still tried to spend as much time with her as I could. I went over there and putzed around on Mom's computer while she lay by the desk. Eventually, she got bored of watching me writing stories or surfing the internet and whimpered until I opened the door to let her out. When my Mom moved out into the country, I didn't get to see her as much.
By that time, she was getting old and starting to have health problems. She had bladder issues even before I moved out, but she really got worse when Mom moved. She wasn't too bad for a while. She would have a little trouble walking. She made a sharp decline within the last year: her eyes went bad, she started trembling from time to time, she even had seizures. Even so, she wasn't on death's door yet. She could still get around. It got worse. Mom had to put a diaper on her to keep her from making messes in the house. She lost a lot of weight, too. I worried about her and tried to spend time with her every time I went to Mom's house.
Last night made me realize how soon she would be gone. Mom called and left a voice mail on my phone. It was about spending Christmas Eve over there. I heard a pained howling and yelping in the background. Mom started crying, "Angel, calm down," and she said that she was getting real bad. I called Mom back and she said she may have to take her to the vet to be put down. I got so upset, but Mom said that she was suffering constantly all last week. She couldn't stand, she wouldn't eat. She just laid there barely alive. I told Mom I was coming over there after work. I had to see Stinky one last time. I had to say goodbye.
When I got there, I saw her; what was left of her. She was laying on her side, violently shaking every couple of seconds. Her body was little more that skin and flaccid muscle hanging loosely on bones. When I stroked and comforted her, I felt her skeleton, ribs, clavicle, legs, and all. Even though she had had a bath, she reeked of death, literally. I sat next to her for 45 minutes. She seemed to have calmed down a little with me by her side. I even spoke to her, saying all those things I used to tell her back then. I laid beside her and hugged her, telling her that I'd miss her and loved her - that I hoped she would be at peace. Mom picked her up and took her outside when I left. I didn't cry when I went to see her, but as I pulled away from the house, watching Mom clutch that dying form in her arms, I sobbed uncontrollably. I couldn't believe it would be the last time I'd ever see her again.
Today, I called Mom at about 4:00. I asked if she took Stinky to the vet yet. She said that she's taking her there at 5:30. I couldn't keep it inside. All day, I've been tormenting myself about when she would finally pass away. When Mom told me it didn't even happen yet, I cried. I didn't want to know, but I had to. Mom put the phone up to Stinky's ear and I said one final goodbye to her. Mom said her eyes opened a little when she heard my voice. I went back to work, watching the time intently with a heavy heart. All the while, taking calls, putting on a pleasant voice, pretending that there was no gaping void in my stomach. Mom said that she would take Stinky outside one more time, let her breathe some fresh air, then give her a bath and give her the tranquilizer pill so she would sleep peacefully when they put her to sleep. At about 4:45, someone pointed my attention to sky. It was blanketed by clouds lit in many colors: rose, violet, and blue, by the setting sun. I'd like to believe that Stinky was outside watching this beautiful scene as it slipped into twilight forever. I smiled a bit, taking comfort in that thought. Time crept closer. At 5:30, I was speaking to someone who couldn't figure out if he was broken down on Highway B or Highway D, but the pain in my heart welled inside, though I would not show it, as I knew Stinky was being taken into a veterinary office in a deep sleep, only to drift deeper into eternity.
She's gone.
I cried again, hard, as I got into the car around 6:00. Hours later I sit here, pouring out my heart on a keyboard.
Stinky meant a lot to me. She was warm, lovable, sweet. She was my favorite dog. She is the reason why I want to have a Bichon of my own one day.
I leave you with my fondest memory of her. When I was dumped the first time by a girl, I cried for a week. One night, when everyone else was gone from the house, Stinky came into my room after hearing me bawling my eyes out. She jumped up on the bed, walked up to me, and licked my tear soaked face. I was so touched that I laughed and hugged her, realizing that she really cared.
I'll miss you, my little sweetheart...
My little Pupi.
At first, I was skeptical of her. I was only a junior in high school and wanted a dog who would play with you and do tricks. Stinky didn't do any of that. She was quiet. Rarely she would bark, and only meekly. No fetch. No roll over. No beg (well, not when you wanted her to). But as time passed, I grew fond of her. Sure, she wasn't as playful as other dogs, but she was sweet, loving, and affectionate (one of the best qualities of Bichons). I loved doting on her and cuddling her. She loved getting her belly rubbed. She even gave me smooches when I pressed my face up to her. She was smart, too. I mean, it's one thing for a dog to recognize its name, but Stinky had two names and understood that both of them referred to her. Heck, I even tried giving her a nickname (I sometimes called her Pupi, which I pronounce like "Poopie", which may sound gross).
I remember, in the early mornings, Mom would open my door and let Stinky in. Mom would make me call her up to the bed so she would jump up and nestle in bed with me. Even though she woke me up to go to the bathroom half the time (which annoyed me), I loved the feeling of her all snuggled up at my feet. Don't get me started about the winter, though. I'd hear Stinky whining at the foot of my bed and I'd get up and go downstairs and follow her out into the snow covered deck in the backyard and waited outside while she peed in the snow. I did all this in nothing but a t-shirt and boxer shorts. I must have been too tired to care how insane that was.
When my brother and I moved out, I still tried to spend as much time with her as I could. I went over there and putzed around on Mom's computer while she lay by the desk. Eventually, she got bored of watching me writing stories or surfing the internet and whimpered until I opened the door to let her out. When my Mom moved out into the country, I didn't get to see her as much.
By that time, she was getting old and starting to have health problems. She had bladder issues even before I moved out, but she really got worse when Mom moved. She wasn't too bad for a while. She would have a little trouble walking. She made a sharp decline within the last year: her eyes went bad, she started trembling from time to time, she even had seizures. Even so, she wasn't on death's door yet. She could still get around. It got worse. Mom had to put a diaper on her to keep her from making messes in the house. She lost a lot of weight, too. I worried about her and tried to spend time with her every time I went to Mom's house.
Last night made me realize how soon she would be gone. Mom called and left a voice mail on my phone. It was about spending Christmas Eve over there. I heard a pained howling and yelping in the background. Mom started crying, "Angel, calm down," and she said that she was getting real bad. I called Mom back and she said she may have to take her to the vet to be put down. I got so upset, but Mom said that she was suffering constantly all last week. She couldn't stand, she wouldn't eat. She just laid there barely alive. I told Mom I was coming over there after work. I had to see Stinky one last time. I had to say goodbye.
When I got there, I saw her; what was left of her. She was laying on her side, violently shaking every couple of seconds. Her body was little more that skin and flaccid muscle hanging loosely on bones. When I stroked and comforted her, I felt her skeleton, ribs, clavicle, legs, and all. Even though she had had a bath, she reeked of death, literally. I sat next to her for 45 minutes. She seemed to have calmed down a little with me by her side. I even spoke to her, saying all those things I used to tell her back then. I laid beside her and hugged her, telling her that I'd miss her and loved her - that I hoped she would be at peace. Mom picked her up and took her outside when I left. I didn't cry when I went to see her, but as I pulled away from the house, watching Mom clutch that dying form in her arms, I sobbed uncontrollably. I couldn't believe it would be the last time I'd ever see her again.
Today, I called Mom at about 4:00. I asked if she took Stinky to the vet yet. She said that she's taking her there at 5:30. I couldn't keep it inside. All day, I've been tormenting myself about when she would finally pass away. When Mom told me it didn't even happen yet, I cried. I didn't want to know, but I had to. Mom put the phone up to Stinky's ear and I said one final goodbye to her. Mom said her eyes opened a little when she heard my voice. I went back to work, watching the time intently with a heavy heart. All the while, taking calls, putting on a pleasant voice, pretending that there was no gaping void in my stomach. Mom said that she would take Stinky outside one more time, let her breathe some fresh air, then give her a bath and give her the tranquilizer pill so she would sleep peacefully when they put her to sleep. At about 4:45, someone pointed my attention to sky. It was blanketed by clouds lit in many colors: rose, violet, and blue, by the setting sun. I'd like to believe that Stinky was outside watching this beautiful scene as it slipped into twilight forever. I smiled a bit, taking comfort in that thought. Time crept closer. At 5:30, I was speaking to someone who couldn't figure out if he was broken down on Highway B or Highway D, but the pain in my heart welled inside, though I would not show it, as I knew Stinky was being taken into a veterinary office in a deep sleep, only to drift deeper into eternity.
She's gone.
I cried again, hard, as I got into the car around 6:00. Hours later I sit here, pouring out my heart on a keyboard.
Stinky meant a lot to me. She was warm, lovable, sweet. She was my favorite dog. She is the reason why I want to have a Bichon of my own one day.
I leave you with my fondest memory of her. When I was dumped the first time by a girl, I cried for a week. One night, when everyone else was gone from the house, Stinky came into my room after hearing me bawling my eyes out. She jumped up on the bed, walked up to me, and licked my tear soaked face. I was so touched that I laughed and hugged her, realizing that she really cared.
I'll miss you, my little sweetheart...
My little Pupi.