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The End of a Pefectly Rotten Week.
18 years ago
The opinions expressed on this page are my own and do not reflect those of Fur Affinity or of any other.
"Si quid per iocum dixi, nolito in serium convertere."
("If I have said anything in jest, do not turn it into a serious thing.") -Plautus
"Si quid per iocum dixi, nolito in serium convertere."
("If I have said anything in jest, do not turn it into a serious thing.") -Plautus
"My heart has joined the Thousand, for my friend stopped running today..."
My dog Tobie died yesterday.
About three years ago, the brother-in-law of my sister's now ex-boyfriend (never liked the kid anyway) gave us his pet pommerianian when he and his wife were moving to a new "pet-unfriendly" apartment. It was the first time we ever had a indoor dog before (we had three outdoor types beforehand), and after some time in learning about her "I have to go to the bathroom" sign, (not to mention a few "accidents"), she became a part of our family.
Tobie was the most "expressive" dog I have ever met. She bonded with my mother most of all, and when my mom goes somewhere, even if it's to the bathroom, she would get lonely. (As I told my sister many times, she could be gone for six months, and Tobie would care less, but if mone goes away for six minutes, she gets all weepy.)
Seperation Anxiety wasn't her only expression, there's the "Gimme your food" look, and she especially loved cheese.
As for her own food, she would have this odd habit of leaving bits of it on the carpet, IN THE EXACT SAME SPOT, and hiding her doggie treats in a "secret stash."
And when she rolls over on her back, with most dogs, it's "submission", with Tobie, it's "passive resistance." (She must have been some protester in a pervious life, either that or a possum.)
Then there are the other odd things, like waking me up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, or rolling in dirty laundry, hiding in any small place or box, and my personal favorate...."plush humping." (Yes, you heard me, she humps plushies, I have photographic proof, and the funny thing is, she's spayed. )
Things were great until last week.
Last Sunday, she started geting seizures.
We took her to the vets, and she spent the next five miserable days in the hospital.
(Before anyone starts calling "tainted dog food from China", her blood tests came out clear, and I'm going on faith that that was one of the first things they were testing for.)
We brought her home on Thursday with meds for the seizures. She wasn't looking at all like herself. Very listless and glassy eyed.
On Friday morning she had another seizure, and spent the rest of the day back at the hospital.
She was broght home the next morning for the last time, same state as before.
That night while I was doing dishes, I heard my mother cry Tobie's name followed by "NO!"
She died in my mother's arms.
Tobie was only seven years old. (Give or take).
Too short a time.
What killed her? I have no idea. Stroke? (like the one had before), Liver dammage? Unlike the rest of my family, I cannot accept the simple answer of "some purebreds have a shorter life span," or "Just her time."
It was not. Not by a longshot. I probably will never know.
My folks took her to the vet hospital for "burial"
(I REALLY don't want to know what that implies!)
This has been a really rotten year, and there's still 2 1/2 more months to go.
Ellen DeGeneres' pain has got nothing compared to mine right now.
I'm sorry, the next blog will be more uplifting, I hope.
My dog Tobie died yesterday.
About three years ago, the brother-in-law of my sister's now ex-boyfriend (never liked the kid anyway) gave us his pet pommerianian when he and his wife were moving to a new "pet-unfriendly" apartment. It was the first time we ever had a indoor dog before (we had three outdoor types beforehand), and after some time in learning about her "I have to go to the bathroom" sign, (not to mention a few "accidents"), she became a part of our family.
Tobie was the most "expressive" dog I have ever met. She bonded with my mother most of all, and when my mom goes somewhere, even if it's to the bathroom, she would get lonely. (As I told my sister many times, she could be gone for six months, and Tobie would care less, but if mone goes away for six minutes, she gets all weepy.)
Seperation Anxiety wasn't her only expression, there's the "Gimme your food" look, and she especially loved cheese.
As for her own food, she would have this odd habit of leaving bits of it on the carpet, IN THE EXACT SAME SPOT, and hiding her doggie treats in a "secret stash."
And when she rolls over on her back, with most dogs, it's "submission", with Tobie, it's "passive resistance." (She must have been some protester in a pervious life, either that or a possum.)
Then there are the other odd things, like waking me up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, or rolling in dirty laundry, hiding in any small place or box, and my personal favorate...."plush humping." (Yes, you heard me, she humps plushies, I have photographic proof, and the funny thing is, she's spayed. )
Things were great until last week.
Last Sunday, she started geting seizures.
We took her to the vets, and she spent the next five miserable days in the hospital.
(Before anyone starts calling "tainted dog food from China", her blood tests came out clear, and I'm going on faith that that was one of the first things they were testing for.)
We brought her home on Thursday with meds for the seizures. She wasn't looking at all like herself. Very listless and glassy eyed.
On Friday morning she had another seizure, and spent the rest of the day back at the hospital.
She was broght home the next morning for the last time, same state as before.
That night while I was doing dishes, I heard my mother cry Tobie's name followed by "NO!"
She died in my mother's arms.
Tobie was only seven years old. (Give or take).
Too short a time.
What killed her? I have no idea. Stroke? (like the one had before), Liver dammage? Unlike the rest of my family, I cannot accept the simple answer of "some purebreds have a shorter life span," or "Just her time."
It was not. Not by a longshot. I probably will never know.
My folks took her to the vet hospital for "burial"
(I REALLY don't want to know what that implies!)
This has been a really rotten year, and there's still 2 1/2 more months to go.
Ellen DeGeneres' pain has got nothing compared to mine right now.
I'm sorry, the next blog will be more uplifting, I hope.
*offers hugs and a gentle backrub to try and comfort you, he's lost close pets like that as well.. but tobie will be happy wherever the spirit went, and be waiting to play with you again when the time comes*