You came into my life a little bit more than two and a half years ago. You were suppose to stay here only a couple of weeks until your previous owner get her new place. Right from the start, you adopted me, to my surprise. A five years old St-Bernard with an history of abuse and mistreatment who decided that a complete stranger was just what he needed. The first night you spent here, I remember waking up in the night, hearing you cry. Not knowing your signals, I got up expecting to have to let you out. No, you were just lonely. So, that night I crashed on the couch beside you. And the following night, the same thing happened again. After that you felt comfortable enough to come by yourself in my room and lie beside my bed. That was April 2007. Since then you grew in the knowledge that you were safe and loved. The experiences of the puppy mill slowly disappeared from your memory. You were learning what being a dog meant : attention, goodies and nothing worse than a light scolding. You learned that it was OK to play. Although you never initiated play yourself, you were always available if Flaxie (my Labweiller) wanted to play. And you were a polite mooch, keeping your distances but nevertheless aware of where the food was and always ready to come take your share (although that was something you also learned here). The only fault I can say you had was that you never learned to cuddle. But I still had hope. Until the last couple of weeks when you started to slowly try to always keep physical contact with me.
This summer, you started to limp. At first I was not overly worried, since it had happened before and you snapped out of it. I figured it would be the same thing. But a large mass started to grow on your front paw. Still, I was not worried. I figured it was only an inflammation. But it kept growing and now I was worried. So, off to the vet we go. Diagnostic : the Big C. You had until February, if lucky. I guess it was par for the course for your life. You didn’t last that long. This Saturday, we made this final trip to the vet. For being in my life for such a short time, you will leave a hole as big if not larger than you. If there is an afterlife, maybe we’ll meet again. If not you will be sorely missed.
And if you encounter the other dogs that were here before you, I hope you will all get along together and that we may be reunited at a later date. Take care buddy.
Where is that crying smiley when you need it? I have tears running down my face.
Bless you, detop.
I adopted my sweet Rascal two and a half years ago. He didn’t like men of a certain stature, roughly the same size as my gentle farmer dad and brother. He now loves everyone.
Thank you everyone for your sentiments, they are much appreciated.
When Bubba arrived he took to me instantly, to the point (before he was left definitely with me) that was saying : “He’s not my dog, I’m his person”. As a consequence of being raised as a stud in a puppy mill, he wasn’t really socialized with male dogs, so that walking him was always an iffy proposition : would he attacks other dogs on sight ? Fortunately I have a yard and St-Bernards are very good in making carpet impressions. Slowly, but surely, he came to view other male dogs as something else than threats (except for Rottweillers. He never could stand Rotties, wonder why) and when I took him to the vet today, he was on his best behaviour.
Other quirks : he loved “fish juice” and whenever a can of tuna or sardines was opened, he would stand by his bowl and intercept the juice as it was poured on his food (he also loved tuna and sardines). At first, when I was giving my dogs treats when I was home after work, he would reluctantly take a Milk-Bone, walk a few steps and drop it. Making him accept treats was a headache until I gave him one day acaramel. After that, he wanted HIS caramel everyday after work.
Tlaking about coming home after work, I was told that about half an hour before I arrived, he would regularly lie down in front of the door, waiting for me and if I was late, he would become distressed.
That will be all for now. Maybe more later when I am no longer choked up.
And how much fun is it watching a dog chew a caramel? Sadie can shell pistachios. Chomp chomp with her little teeth and the shells are on the floor.
She’s developing some quirks too. When we’re snacking in the living room, she’ll sit quietly and just watch. But if one of the cats comes close, she gets antsy. “Hey! We’re just watching here! Scoot!”