Wordless Wednesday

Chappy is our May 11, 2014 Pup of the Week

The British, and some Americans, refer to males as chaps.  “He’s a fine chap,” they say.  I don’t think I have ever heard anyone use “chap” in any other connotation other than describing an upstanding individual.  The term chap is derived from chapman, an old English term for an honest tradesman.

When I first joined Doggyspace 7 years ago, on my very first day, I made three unique named friends from California:  12, Chappy and Whiskey.  Oh how those names rolled off the tongue.  12, Chappy and Whiskey:  Like Tinkers, to Evers, to Chance, or Crosby, Stills and Nash.  

What wonderful, wise, kind, true friends they became.  In an illogical world we could find sage advice in the comments under their picture.  When we were down, they provided furry shoulders to cry on, paws to hold, and smiles.  They celebrated with us, played with us, prayed for us, and were our rocks.  We believed they would be with us forever.

Their pack expanded.  There was first Fuzzy Bacon, whose time was brief, then Blue  Last March we lost 12, the leader of the pack, and while Jasper, a fine dog and great friend joined them, we knew we lost a great leader in 12, and missed our original terrific trio.

At the beginning of October a small growth on Chappy’s side grew alarmingly.  The little growth had grown into a cancerous monster and Chappy needed emergency surgery.  12 and I put on our angel wings and watched over the surgery.  It was difficult.  The tumor was very large.  But the doctor consulted with 12 and I and we termed the surgery a success.par

A month later my parents, and Pocket and River, got to meet Chappy’s wonderful parents at Pokey’s house.  My pack found Chappy’s parents to be wonderful, kind, generous people.   I must admit I went into a snit for a week that I had gone to the Bridge before I got to meet them, but I have slipped into their sweet dreams to be able to spend time with them and get to know them better, and if I wrote a pet parent of the year blog it would very likely be about them.

Two months ago another large tumor appeared on Chappy’s side. Again, the surgery was successful, but a short time later two more growths appeared and Chappy asked his parents for no more surgeries.  He was going to spend as much time with Mom and Dad as he could, and then when he was ready, he would cross the Bridge to join 12, and his other siblings, Travis, Irie and Fuzzy.

Which brings me back around to the origin of the word chap, because Chappy is the definition of a good chap.  He always put others first.  He made the decision for his Mom, collecting his best bandannas and telling his Mom it was time to depart.  Before he came to the Bridge he contacted me to make sure I was ready, and had me gather his Bridge Pack to meet him.   

His sibling were so overjoyed to see him, and being Chappy he greeted everyone graciously.  There was lots of running, romping, and tail biting. But I could tell he missed his family, and once everyone had calmed down I took him to the River of Life so he could watch over them.  He’s been doing that a lot since he arrived.  He wants to know his Mom is going to be all right.  We keep telling his she will, but it takes time, and we do have a lot of that here.

Chappy’s Mom’s and Dad’s hearts will heal in time, and he will check on them less, just like 12 did before him.  Sort of the way things work in these parts.  

But as for now, I lay next to Chappy as he watches his Mom’s reflection in the river, for as long as it takes, because that’s what a fine chap would do.

Ask Aunt Foley

Dear Aunt Foley: You and I have never met but I have heard good things about you.  My name is Wylie.  For six years I lived with my Mommy but she got sick and had to go into the home and give me up.  Luckily I was adopted by a wonderful man and woman with a dog and several cats.  My probably is with the dog.  His name is Hobo Hudson and he is completely insane.  He seems to think that not only I, but the cats, and certain squirrels work for him and he spends each morning pouring over the “bone” market.  What is up with him?  Sincerely Wylie Hudson

Dear Wylie:  I am sure you had a wonderful mother and that you took great care of her as she aged.  I am sorry that her health grew beyond your ability to care for her.  I am so happy you found a new home.  But you haven’t just found a home, you have found a home straight out of Willy Wonka:  A home of endless imagination.  

Sure, there are places where the dog is the dog, sleeps in another room, doesn’t have any dog friends who live in other countries, doesn’t communicate daily with their friends over the Internet, and live perfectly satisfactory lives.  But you my friend are starting your journey to a most extraordinary life.

Welcome to the world where you have friends that you will never sniff, but you will know better than your own littermates.  A world where your every thought it will be considered important, and your every picture fawned over.  A world where you will feel love from all over the world, and if you are sick, prayers will pour in and you will feel the warmth inside your heart.

In short Wylie you are the dog who got everything he ever wished for.  And you know what happened to him?

He lived happily ever after.

Wordless Wednesday Throwback Edition

Stonewall Jackson is our May 4, 2014 Pup of the Week

It is true in both human and dog life:  Friends drift in and out, but once a soul become a friend they are a friend for life and beyond..  I had noy barked at General Stonewall for a long time.  On my first go around at DS we did lots of barking, but, like lots of friends, we drifted apart, occasionally leaving a random comment on a blog.  But, despite the interaction, The General and I are still friends, so I was saddened to see him climbing th steps after crossing over the Bridge.

I asked him what happened.  His sad eyes looked down at the Bridge and told me he was very worried about his Mom, who he loved very much.  They had over 17 years together  Stonewall had his share of health issues.  In the end it was his bones that literally let him down.  He couldn’t stand any longer, not even to pee. HIs Mom couldn’t bare to see him in pain, and she sent him to the Bridge, where his legs and spirit are young again, and he once again finds himself running happily through the fields.

For a dog who ended up living a very long and happy life Stonewall certainly had his share of illness and drama.  Stonewall’s origin is unknown.  He was just a puppy when he was found roaming the streets.  He was brought to a woman who had recently lost a poodle, and at first she was reluctant to bring a new pup into the home but Stonewall won her over with his charm.  

At a young age Stonewell began to suffer health issues.  He became paralyzed and needed surgery.  Even with the operation there was only a 50/50 chance he would walk again.  But Stonewall proved himself to be a miracle dog by coming through the operation and walking better than ever.

Stonewall thrived after his surgery, except for one day when his legs didn’t work too good and he scared his Mom, but that magically went away.  After that his Mom got sick with Bells Palsy and then vertigo and Stonewall took care of her like she had taken care of him.

In 2011 Stonewall began to have neurological problems:  Seizures, high blood pressure, plenty of vet visits, poking and prodding.  Like the paralysis Stonewall was able to fight through his illnesses and come out healthy and seizure free, but he was closing in on 14, His legs were bothering him again, as were his eyes.  This lead to the loss of an eye in 2013.  His mother had lost an eye earlier so they were quite the matched pair.

As Stonewall pushed through his 16th, and into his 17th year his legs got worse, until his Mom made the final decision that it was time to let him go.  He told me he waited so long to go to the Bridge because he loved his Mom so much.  I told him I knew what it meant.

He still spends lots of time visiting his Mom in her dreams (although the rules state that she can’t remember them) and watching over her in the River of Life.  Seventeen years is the longest I can remember a Mom and dog being together.  We know how much she hurts but hope she knows that Stonewall is always with her and always will be

We wish that was enough for his Mom, but it isn’t.  It’s never enough for anyone’s Mom.

But all us Bridge Angels would give anything if it was.

I was in the bed when the bed got made by Pocket Dog

We have a routine each Saturday morning.  Daddy gets up early because he has to go to work.  I get up with him.  He holds me while he does his bathroom business and brushes his teeth.  I like to lick the foam from the tooth brushing.  Then Daddy takes me outside and I do my business.  He brings me inside, gives me a treat, goes back into the bedroom and slips me under the covers while he gets donuts.  I get fifteen minutes of wonderful morning bed time without bladder pressure.

Last Saturday, in just 15 minutes time, I got nice and snuggled on a warm spot.  I heard Daddy come in but I stayed where I was.  Please Daddy, just five more minutes.  He wrestled River out of bed.  He is forever wrestling River out of bed.  River would stay in bed all day if she could.  He took River outside, and after some stubborn shouting River did her business too.

Mommy got out of bed to pee and I stayed in my snuggle spot.  Finally I had the big bed to myself.  In seconds I had fallen into a nice snooze.  I woke up a half hour later and I thought I was on my way to the Bridge.  It was dark, it was hard to breathe, I could barely hear anything or more.

Then I heard the faint sound of water running, it was Daddy in the shower.  I must not have gone down the road too far towards the Bridge.  Maybe I could turn around.  Boy, it was hot.  Oh no, I couldn’t be going to the other place could I?  I started whining and barking, hoping my parents could bring me back.

I could hear Daddy slipping out of the shower and pulling down the shower rod as he wrapped a towel around himself to find out why I was whining while Mommy hurried in from the kitchen. They both began to rip away the comforter, the quilt, and the blanket to discover what they had done.

They had made the bed with me in it!

I got lots of snuggles and kisses, and explanations that they thought I was just a bump.  A BUMP!  I took all the snuggles, and all the kisses and forgave them because they are my parents and I love them.

And also because I found if there is ever a place to be almost smothered it’s in a warm, comfortable bed.

Ask Aunt Foley

Dear Aunt Foley:  I went for a walk with my parents the other day and I let them take me off the leash and then they got lost.  Is there anything that can be done with humans so they don’t wander off in the woods and get lost?  - Lou  ee

Lou ee you must either always stay tethered to your parents or always keep them within your eye range.  Humans are only one bite away from becoming zombies. They are actually in a pre-zombie state.  They wander around aimlessly often tricked by the first thing that smells good.

While you have the code of the jungle in your DNA that code is absent in your parents.  They are always getting stuck in bear traps, wandering into a lion’s den, rubbing butter and honey on their legs to block the sun in full view of a savage coyote.  They just cannot be left to their own devices in the wild.

I know, as a dog, it is hard for you to ignore the scents that come by, or the sounds that you here.  Something goes off in your brain and you forget everything else and run off after it.  This instinct is very hard to quell.  But you have to remember that your parents always come first.

Of course there is the very annoying fact that when parents to get lost they always point the finger of blame at us  Hey, we’re not the one who left the door open, or didn’t put the leash on tight enough, or let go of the tether.  But they always present what happened as “Lou ee ran off.”  Hah!   Our lives would all be easier if parents spent less time dog shaming and spent more time taking blame