Uno

It feels like, every other time I post on this blog anymore, it’s to write about the death of one my beloveds.  This post is no different and it’s tearing me up.  Every time I get comfortable and think that life has settled down for a while, something else happens and I guess this time was no different.

On July 11th, 2011.  My beloved gerbil, Uno, passed away.

The days before she died, I was away in Minnesota, so I don’t know if she was feeling unwell during the time I was gone or if it was just one of those things.  I had gotten back on the 11th and all seemed well, she greeted me in her usual fashion, though admittedly I wasn’t focusing on anyone in particular.  I was tired from the trip and was trying to get my things prepared for work.  I went to bed fairly late and fell asleep without hearing anything coming from her cage– however this was not unusual as she often went to bed and woke up with me.  Around 5:15 in the morning, I was awoken by a crack of thunder and the sounds of rain and hail beating against the house.  It took me a few moments to realize that not only was it storming, the warning sirens up the street from our house were also going off.  Without having a radio in my room and my weather updates telling me it was just a severe storm, I wasn’t sure what it was, but bundled Buddha and Dharma into their “storm carrier” and went to get Evie and Uno from their cages.  Although Evie was peering at me from her bed, I realized there was no movement from Uno’s, something that wasn’t typical, so I popped open the door of her house expecting her to shoot out and come stare at me.  It took a few moments of me feeling around the cage, before I realized that she was laying on top of her chew house and she wasn’t moving.

It took me completely by surprise and hit me very hard when I realized she was gone.  Of course it was the worst time to come to the conclusion and I was forced to rush Evie into her ball and wrap Uno in a towel so I could get everyone downstairs.  I sat downstairs, very upset about the storms, which I hate with a passion just because it causes a pile up of things that could go wrong and that my gerbil was gone but I couldn’t do much to mourn her at the moment because I still had to find out if the rest of us were needing to worry about our safety.  Finally we decided that the reports were telling us it was strong winds and rain but that we were not in danger of a tornado (doesn’t feel like it watching the news as many people’s homes and property were damaged) and decided to go back to bed.  I had to go upstairs minus one of my loves.

Even though it was almost 6am and I had work the next day I found it very hard to sleep.  I hadn’t put Buddha and Dharma back in their house yet, so I set the carrier on my bed and just let them come out at their own pace.  For once, they were cuddling and I made mention to them that I kind of would like some cuddling too.  I know it seems silly but when I said that, Dharma perked up and stepped a paw out on my comforter, wheeked at me softly and when I motioned for her attention she waddled (yes, they waddle, it’s normal) over to me and snuggled up with me, still wheeking as I pet her.  Buddha, not to be outdone by her younger sister came out to join us a few moments later, but was bold enough to climb up my tummy and stick her face under my chin.  I think we stayed like that for an hour, just cuddling.

Animals are perceptive and I think even the toughest critics would have a hard time denying that.  They both knew I was sad and I cried for a good long while.  I’m not ashamed to say it.  Faith knew too and stayed close to the bed, just watching us and knowing that it hurt me, whatever it was.  I went to work, where my kids were less perceptive to my depression and I spent a very long day trying not to think about there being one less fuzzy face waiting for me when I got home.  When I finally did get home from all of that, my Dad helped me bury my little friend in the backyard, next to some of our peony bushes.  Appropriate as peonies are my favorite flowers and she was one of my favorite gerbils.

I acknowledge that some people will think it’s dumb to be so attached to an animal.  I suppose if you don’t have any or you don’t have an interest in connecting with any, that would make sense.  I would like to think, even though I’m not a member of PETA or even vegetarian, that I do tend to connect with the animals I meet and especially the ones that have come to live with me.  Every single one of them has a personality and I’ve seen it in some way to the point I’ve wanted them to become a part of my family.  Uno was no different.

I met Uno in January of 2010 in the quiet area of the pet store I work at on the weekends.  She had fallen after escaping from a tote in the quarantine area of the store for new animals and was thought to have lost her left eye.  Her eye required daily cleaning and would most likely have to be adopted out because she was no longer in “prime condition”.  In the few weeks I had to get to know her, I knew she needed to join my family of furry friends.  Earning the moniker, Uno.  When I brought her home, her eye hadn’t gotten any better and I was told that likely it never would– it just didn’t seem normal that it would need to be cleaned out everyday with the kind discharge it had.  I took her to the vet and for the first time in my life, spent $66 for an appointment for a gerbil.  There, I was told she not only still had her eye, it was viable and the only reason it was still swollen was because she had Ringworm.  Had I not adopted her and brought her to the vet, she most likely would have died from lack of proper treatment.

Uno brought me a lot of joy.  I had never had a gerbil and had to learn how to care for them very soon after bringing her home.  Did you know, when you have a gerbil, you either get a chewer, a runner, or both?  And you don’t know which one it is until you buy them lots of toys only to find out they don’t want them?  I found out fairly quickly, Uno was a chewer– a beaver in gerbil clothing.  I had gotten her a lovely two-story home, with a “fun ramp” and a nice, quiet wheel.  Only much to my dismay, the wheel was turned to plastic chips and the ramp could no longer be qualified as a ramp after 24 hours.  To which she had to learn to jump up to the second story and decided the nice new *metal* wheel I bought her, was much more fun for sleeping in than running in.  She did however, adore the Nut Knots I brought home from work, where the prize for chewing through a maze of wood chews was a little nut in the middle.  She went through several small ones in a very short amount of time.  Usually two or three to Evie’s one and she always wanted them.  Finally, I just bought the size that was meant for Guinea Pigs and rabbits in the hopes they would last longer.  They did and Uno’s eyes would always get wide when I set one in her house, like I had just given her the grail of chewy toys.

She was an excellent doorman, always greeting people when they walked in.  I positioned her cage just so she could see who walked in.  Even if she was in her bed, if she heard the door open, she would (as my Dad calls it) “up periscope” to see if she knew the newcomer.  She hated running in her exercise ball and if I put her in it and set her on the floor, she would sit there, wringing her paws, wondering when she would ever get back home to her Nut Knot.  Her dislike of running and maybe my being a softie when it comes to treats, led her to be a bit overweight and although I cut down on her treats and fed her no more than anyone else, she still was a little chunky for a gerbil.  I always joked, I was the only person in the U.S. who had a gerbil with a thyroid condition and that if chewing on things counted for exercise, she would be tiny.

She was a messy roommate to be sure– I would clean her house and make everything nice, just in time for her to kick everything out onto my floor.  I went through three birdcage covers just to staunch the mess, but I would buy a million if it meant she was still here.  I can’t even think about cleaning out her cage right now, for fear of starting to cry again.  I miss her so much already.  I think this will always be the worst part of being a pet owner.  Losing one of your loves and getting over it.  I will always remember my little Uno and I wish upon wish that she is happy wherever she is now.

Uno

I love you, Uno.  I always will and I hope you’re happy and that someday we’ll see each other again.  Miss you.

-Mom

New Camera, New Snow, New Post

So, today was my birthday!  I turned 23 at 6:37 pm this evening– and no, I don’t feel any older.  It was a lazy day, I got to sleep in for the first time in a long time, it was lovely.  I got to snuggle with my Faithy and do my own thing before my mother got done with work and we went to lunch at Olive Garden.  It was surprisingly good!  My parents got me some lovely presents and then we all came home and napped, because frankly, the weather has been dreary and we’ve all been working too hard.  I had a final symphony concert to play in for my college tonight, so that took a little bit of time, but it was a good day overall and we made it through the weather, since we’re also currently under a blizzard warning.

I guess we’re going to be getting around 6 inches between now and 6pm tomorrow.  I’ll believe it when I see it.

The other thing that happened this past week was I got my new camera!  I’ve been wanting a Nikon D90 since forever and my Mom was able to find a deal for me to buy the package I wanted, so now I have one!  I haven’t had a whole lot of time to play with it, since the class I’m in right now, is particularly homework heavy.  But, today was my birthday and I had my homework done, so nuhhhhh!

Thanks to that, I went outside and shot some pictures:

Very first photo I took with my new camera!! He looks thrilled.

Third picture I took... Still not happy.

Action Shot!

Butt shot

He had snow on his face.  Of course, it was only after all of these photos that I realized I have a movement setting on my camera, so I could have caught a few photos of him bounding after Faith around the yard.  Maybe some other time.  Would have been nice to see before we got a million inches of snow, but at least I’ll be able to catch his reaction to feet of snow, rather than the powdering we got a few days ago.  And maybe he’ll do more than this:

One of these days she’s just going to eat him.

Well, gotta go eat my cheesecake, I am the birthday girl after all!
Until then,

~Jaina

Dear Paisley,

I slept with your Hippo on my pillow last night.  It was one of your favorites.  I miss you Baby Puppy.  I wish you were here to make me laugh, to toss a piggy on my plate.  I wish you were here to grow up, grow old, be you.

Keep everyone laughing in Heaven my funny puppy.

Love,

Jaina

P.S. Buddha misses you too.  Your little jailbreak buddy.

In which Jaina Breaks up with 2010…

Before I even get into it– I just want to say, I’ve been looking at what people have been searching for on Google and then happening on to my blog as a Top Search result.  You people are strange.  I’m not sure what possesses anyone to do a search for “Throw Cow Pee” but I’m hoping it’s in regards to a very important, lifesaving, research project.  And I’d also like to reassure you, there is no throwing of cow pee here.

Thank you.

And now, to the more serious reason behind this post.  This year has finally reached it’s peak, at least for me, in horribleness.

This evening, while I was checking my fuzzy upstairs pets, I found Ianto had died sometime this afternoon.  I don’t really know what happened.  I know that hamsters, on average, only live one to two years.  Ianto was about to turn one (or thereabouts) this September, but was in, as far as I could tell, good health.  And, not to toot my own horn, all of my hamsters have lived much longer than that, never the lower end of the average.  I know, that I heard him running around at 6am this morning, before I left for work and assumed he was sleeping when I was in my room this afternoon.

I am mostly sad because it seemed so sudden.  He still had food in his cheek pouches when I found him and it looked like he had been heading back to his nest.  I know these things happen, but I feel like I’ve lost a lot in the last few months and I’m not handling it well.

My Grandpa, my dog, my hamster, people and creatures that were and are close to my heart.  I was hoping these sorts of things had settled down by now and that I could just ride 2010 out into the sunset and then kick it good riddance.  Apparently, that wasn’t meant to be.

Yes, I know, these things happen for a reason– Hard to believe your hamster dying without you realizing it or being able to figure out why has a reason, but hopefully he’s happy, wherever he is and that he has all the sunflower seeds he can find to save up for the apocalypse.

I will remember his little attitude, his tendency to kick box my fingers when he didn’t like what I was doing or realized he had to work for something.  I will remember his planning for the end of days, his little house, constantly full with seeds, like something was about to happen and the rest of us just didn’t know about it.  Or all the times he got upset with me for cleaning it out.  Or all the times he got me back, waiting until right after I had put the vacuum away to kick most of his clean bedding back onto the floor.  He was a tiny evil genius and he was my evil genius.

I will miss him and yes, I’ll cry for him– I don’t care that I’m 22 years old, I think it means I have a soul. Maybe I care too much about my pets, but they’re my life right now.  I just want them healthy and happy and right now, even if I couldn’t have prevented it, I feel like I failed him.

I'm in my wheel, watching you...

Remove it silly human

Maybe in the future I’ll find another little hammie that needs a home, but for now, I am in mourning.  I hope he’s happy, wherever he is.  As for 2010.  I’m over it.  I would really love for January to come and that be the end of this terrible year.  I know I’m feeling sorry for myself, but I’m pushing the boundaries as to how much I can take this year before I curl up into a little ball and hide in my room.  It just doesn’t seem fair.  And yes, I’m going to whine about it.

Love you Ianto.

~Jaina

Yuri Muddypaws

This year has not been one for good news and I’m afraid it’s only getting worse.  This week, after much soul-searching, my family decided it was time for Yuri to rest.  After his beautiful comeback in February after extensive surgery to remove both stones and part of his Thyroid, Yuri was diagnosed with nasal cancer.  A large tumor had taken root in his nasal cavity and had begun to grow and had been present either during his surgery or directly after.  This was the percolating sound we had been hearing and were told was nothing.  Yuri also had a large lesion at the roof of his mouth, which none of us had known about, but which explained his sudden issue with chewing hard food/treats and his increasing halitosis.  It was so far along that none of the veterinarians we took him to could guarantee that surgery or treatment would be effective and as we had already invested much into his surgery, it was not something feasible for us to consider.  With heavy hearts, we decided the best thing for him would be to take him home, let him be as comfortable as he could be in his old age and control any infection and pain with medication.  And for almost 6 months that was enough.

Unfortunately, this week it became most apparent, the cancer had progressed far enough that he could no longer live comfortably.  Breathing had become more than a chore, the tumors in his nasal area had spread and grown into his eye socket, to the point he could no longer see and began to bleed.  His nose was constantly needing to be cleaned from drainage and bleeding and although we only had to up his pain medication once, he was not living much of a life as he would rouse himself for treats, dinner or car rides, only to be exhausted by it moments later.  As much life as he clung to in the end, it was a struggle and none of us could bear to see it.

And I find it absolutely unfair.

I am angry and sad that he survived and bounced back from a difficult surgery so zealously, only to be struck down by something so disgusting and painful.  I am angry that my beautiful, fuzzy, wonderful baby was overcome by such terrible symptoms and I am even more angry, that once again, we had to make the choice to end a pet’s life.  It is and always will be, one of the hardest things a pet parent who truly loves their pets will ever have to deal with and unfortunately, in my lifetime as a pet lover and parent, I’ve had to be involved with it far too often.  When I was in 6th grade, I had to make the decision to put my cat Willie (a pretty gray tabby) to sleep because his kidneys were failing and there was nothing anyone could do.  It had to be a snap decision and I loathed having to make it.  We had to put Rosie, my grandmother’s dog to sleep after taking care of her when my grandmother passed away because she was too stubborn to go on her own despite having liver problems and failing health.  Ozzie, our 16 year old dog that I had known since elementary school and grown up with had to be decided for, despite surviving years of Epilepsy and its treatment because he was elderly.

And now my Yuri.

I know that it’s something everyone who has a pet must face at some point.  Those fuzzy faces who love us so much they don’t want to leave and those who are too strong willed to let go trust in us to make the right decision, even though it so hard to.  When they live long lives with you, it is not like losing a family member, it is losing a family member and it makes one’s heart sick.  You always wonder if you made the right choice and although I know Yuri was never going to get better, no matter how much I might have wished, I can’t help but have a small part of me kicking myself for letting him go.  It’s a selfish part, but it’s a part nonetheless.

My boy :0)

I will always try to remember Yuri for the beautiful, strong, terribly sly dog that he was.  I will remember that he came home with us as a clearance puppy, because the night before we met him, he and his litter mate escaped their cage and had destroyed over $200 worth of cat toys and had made a terrible mess at a pet store that no longer exists.  The owner was so ready to have him gone, she had marked him down, despite him being a purebred.

I will remember bringing him home and “penning” the lyrics to a countryesque song titled “The Lonely Little Husky” to which there is a taped rendition somewhere, with me as a child, holding a nearly 30 pound puppy in my lap, trying to make him dance– While Yuri wanted nothing more than to sleep.

I will remember him by all of his nicknames; Yuri Muddypaws when he would come in everyday from the backyard, covered in mud from digging and playing in puddles.  The Yurinator, maybe not something he’d want to be remembered as, but certainly a tale worth remembering.  And on several occasions “That-Damn-Dog” or Houndini as he slipped out of the house or his collar once more to run through the neighborhood.

I will remember all the times he put our family friends through the wringer when they watched him as we were on vacation.  Somehow finding ways to escape harnesses touted as “inescapable” and wandering through strange neighborhoods, somehow charming meat market owners and grilling employees into feeding him their wares.  Or his one and only trip into the grocery store, escaping from our car– jumping up onto the door of another customer’s car and peering at her through her open window, scaring her into screams, only to dash into the store;  us chasing after him in time to hear “Dog in aisle 6″ over the intercom.  So many bag boys were happy for the distraction as they chased him through the store until he was finally cornered in the meat (of course) section, drawn to the sent of raw prime rib.

My mom, humiliated, dragged him back to the car, expecting us to be banned from the store forever, when the owner pleaded for a pardon on Yuri’s behalf.

“Don’t hurt him!” he begged as my mother tightened her grip on Yuri’s collar to air depriving levels.  She smiled at the man and said,

“Oh, I’m not going to hurt him– I’m going to kill him.”

Now, years after that escapade, we tell friends or fellow Husky owners the story gladly for a laugh and to let them know they won’t have it so easy if they own one of the extra-furry kind.

I will remember after several months of struggling to carry hundreds of Pennysavers alone, my mother ordered a special pack for Yuri, with pockets that we might split the load, so I would no longer fear having a hump from the weight of the bag and Yuri could get out of the house and work as he was bred to do.  It gave us time together and also gave me the opportunity to meet new people, attracted to Yuri’s striking features.  It earned me a few babysitting gigs and gave some lonely elderly folks a chance to talk to a girl and her dog who didn’t mind stopping to chat.  Did I mention it got us tips?

I will always remember the excitement it caused Yuri, when he saw me getting his pack ready with Pennysavers the night before we delivered.  He would always try to put it on right then and there, even though I tried to explain to him he had to wait.

I will remember the times he escaped and managed to be picked up, whether by kindly neighbors or the pound.  In one instance, he got away from us and had been picked up a by a person who was  likely, just trying to help, but rather than calling the information on his tag, took him to the Humane Society well out of town.  Despite having to put a number collar on him to find him in their kennels and obviously seeing he had a tag, they had chosen not to call us to let us know he was safe, but waited until the next day.  When my father and I arrived to bring him home, with an unwarranted “bail”, he heard us coming and started howling until we sprung him from jail.

Or the times he escaped to the neighbor lady’s house, the one who’s daughter had a Husky and knew what kinds of treats they liked.  The number of times he had gone to her house, where he was babied and let sleep on the couch (a no-no at home) and given yummy treats of chicken.  Or the times he rallied the troops into joining him on a break out, in the dead of winter.  Exhilarating for him, miserable for Ozzie and Faith who discovered too late, they should have packed warm coats and booties for the trip.  Yuri plunging on, icicles hanging from his whiskers and chin fur like jewels.

I will remember him as a loud mouth, just weeks old and scaring my father as he walked into the house reading the mail and suddenly “Hewwoh!” comes from nowhere; making my father believe someone had broken in.  Or the picnic where my parents were taunting him with a Subway cookie, telling him if he said he wanted it, he could have it.  After much frustration and begging on his part, Yuri finally cried, “AH WAHN ET!”, shocking my parents so much that he was handed the cookie without dispute.  I will never forget the two times in his life he actually barked.  Once at a gang of idiots who we had the pleasure of parking next to at a camping park, who decided to run through our campsite, causing Yuri to bark at them menacingly.  Or the time one of our trashcans had the gall to roll across the yard, startling Yuri into a barking match we had never heard before.

I will remember that he adored winter, as any smart Husky does and could never be in the backyard without diving into snowbanks or eating a mouthful of snow, just for the fun of it.  I will remember him frolicking and playing and bouncing in the snow, even when the rest of us hid in the house for warmth.  Demanding we turn a fan on for him in subzero weather, because he was still warm.

I will remember  how much he loved to open his own Christmas presents, ripping the paper off with finesse; half the time just because it was fun, not because he cared what was in it.  My mother often joked we should have wrapped rolls of paper towels for him, so he would have the joy of ripping off the Santa paper and destroying the roll inside.  He was never satisfied until any and all paper around him was torn into tiny, unrecognizable pieces, often the fate of important receipts and yes, even homework.  His fetish for chewing was not limited to paper, but blue Bic pens someone was silly enough to leave at nose level.  There were many a time when we would return home to find him blue from head to toe, proud that he had successfully destroyed another inky enemy.

I will remember that even though he became the clear alpha dog over our oldest dog, Ozzie, he was never cruel and cared for his elderly friend, even to the end.  Never eating without him, laying with him so Ozzie would not be alone, even when he was at his most uncomfortable.  He loved Ozzie as though they had been brothers since birth and despite their rambunctiousness, even came to love Faith and Paisley.  Reminding them often, when they were getting out of hand.

I will remember little kids asking to pet him, asking questions about him;

Child: “Does he like bikes?”

Dad: “Nah,  his paws don’t reach the pedals.”

I will remember all the fur, never ending in the shedding department and all the times we stood outside with him, brushing him and realizing the birds in the neighborhood had discovered what good insulation Husky undercoat was.  Lining up at patio’s edge, just out of reach of the jaws of death, but close enough a good breeze would bring a tuft of soft white fur close enough for them to grab and bring home for their babies.  I am happy to think of the number of nests and baby birds that are warmed by Yuri’s gift of fur.

There is so much about him that I cannot share here, because it would take much longer than people are willing to read to describe.  This post would be twice as long and boring to those who did not know him personally.  I concede that most pet owners believe their pet was the best of them all and that the world will not be the same when they are gone.  I cannot say that the world will know he’s gone, but in my pocket of it, he has touched enough lives that his passing will be noticed.  He was an incredible dog, in both smarts and beauty.  He stopped people in their tracks just walking by and had the personality of a dog who knew he was pretty but loved nothing more than his family and a good scratch (and maybe a few dozen cookies).  I will miss him so much as he has been a part of me for over half of my life.  He has seen me through years of awkward school days to college pains.  He has judged boyfriends and dog sitters, he has maintained shrew populations and caused laughter.

And today, he has brought me many tears, only because I loved him too much to see him go.

I love you my sweet boy.  You brought my life joy (and experience in cleaning up bits of paper) and I hope upon hope that you are with Ozzie now, young and beautiful again, romping in the green grass together.

Love you,

Jaina

Lyle Eugene Brandstetter 1920-2010

Lyle Eugene Brandstetter: August 13th 1920-June 28th 2010

On Monday, June 28th, my father received a call from his sister that his father (my Grandfather) had passed away.  My Grandpa Lyle has been in failing health for at least the last year and particularly so in the last few weeks.  We knew that it was likely that he would not be with us much longer, but as any granddaughter will likely tell you, it was not easy hearing he was gone.

My Grandpa Lyle wasn’t a man of many words, but when he did speak it was often to say something to spark laughter in his family.  I cannot count the number of times he has caught one or all of us completely unexpectedly with a quip or joke that seemingly came from nowhere.  Whether joking with my Grandma that she shouldn’t complain about having large bosoms as “Plenty of girls pay for those and you got yours for free!” to playfully accusing my father of “licking his spoon” while he was feeding him pudding to trying to encourage me into being an accomplice in nabbing a snack while my Grandma wasn’t looking.  His smile, raspy laugh and twinkling eyes will be sorely missed at family gatherings.

Over 6′ feet tall even into his golden years and rail thin, my Grandpa was imposing only in size, not in attitude.  I never heard him raise his voice unless it was to remind whoever was making lunch that he would like applesauce or peaches and despite depending on her for much of his care, he clearly adored my Grandmother; who doted upon him with more love than I’ve ever seen another human being provide.  Although weakened by a failing heart and a constant battle with Diabetes, my Grandpa never failed to show his love to his family (even when it seemed sickness had taken away his loving personality) we all know he loved (and still loves us) and I’m sure it will take a long time to get used to his physical absence, we will feel him in our hearts forever.

Even though Grandpa Lyle lived 89 long years and raised a large (Ever growing) family, for me, it’ll never be enough.  When my mother’s father, my Grandpa Babe, passed away when I was very young, Grandpa Lyle was there to provide the Grandfatherly love every grandchild needs and to encourage me in everything I did.  I’ve never thought myself very talented but to my Grandpa, I was.  I’ve played the violin for almost 14 years and in that time, Grandpa Lyle became one of my biggest fans.  Not long before he passed, according to my Grandma, he had told her I could play the violin so it sang to a person.  He firmly believed (though none of my violin teachers do) I could make the violin my business and that maybe I’d be famous with my “little music machine”.  I have not done much with it recently, but I now have the feeling I will try to keep playing it for years to come to make him proud of me.  I regret not playing for him more often as I always felt unwarranted stage fright, playing in front of my family, but I hope that despite my cowardly reaction, he was still able to listen to me play enough through the CDs my Dad made sure he had to listen to.

My Grandpa was going to be turning 90 in August a little over a month from now and although his health was poor, he was looking forward to it.  He had been joking he was “sneezing on 90″ and I’m sure were he still here, he would have received the biggest birthday bash we could have thrown for him.  And maybe even if he can’t have one with us here, he can have one even bigger with those of the Brandstetter clan who have already moved on.  I hope he can even invite my Grandma Barb and Grandpa Babe while he’s there.

For now, I must remain strong for my Grandma Mary who has lost her other half and part of her soul.  I have never seen two people more in love than they and it tears me apart to see her so alone.  I know that she is surrounded by her family who love her dearly, but that family was started and tended with a man who is no longer here with her and I know only from observation that it’s breaking her heart.  I hope in time she is able to rest without fear of bad dreams and to be able to cry tears of joy rather than pain.

I am saddened by the loss my family will feel for a great while and even more saddened (selfishly so) that he will not be able to attend my wedding in May 2012 (I can only hope he will be there in spirit) but I am grateful I had the opportunity to let him know that I will be married and taken care of.  At least I know now that he is taken care of and no longer has to suffer through the ordeals of being human.  If ever there were a man more deserving of becoming an angel, it’s my Grandpa Lyle.  He was one here, might as well be one in a far more spectacular place.

Grandpa Lyle might not have been famous or rich or the discoverer of any cure but he has a legacy to us nonetheless.  Well known in his hometown, he raised 5 children had ten grandchildren, twelve great-grandchildren and there will be many more to come.  That legacy was good enough for him and I hope we can make him proud.

I love you Grandpa and I miss you so much already.  I could use one of your big hugs right now, I hope you’ll save one for me until I see you again.  Your family is a little lost without you right now but I’m sure you’ll find a way to set us right again.

Have a snack, on me :0*

Until then,

Jaine

The Legend of the Dragonfly

“In the bottom of an old pond lived some grubs who could not understand why none of their group ever came back after crawling up the lily stems to the top of the water. They promised each other that the next one who was called to make the upward climb would return and tell what had happened to him. Soon one of them felt an urgent impulse to seek the surface; he rested himself on the top of a lily pad and went through a glorious transformation which made him a dragonfly with beautiful wings. In vain he tried to keep his promise. Flying back and forth over the pond, he peered down at his friends below. Then he realized that even if they could see him they would not recognize such a radiant creature as one of their number.
The fact that we cannot see our friends or communicate with them after the transformation which we call death is no proof that they cease to exist.”

Tragedy in the Mutt Family Cont.

So, as we were loathe to announce before, we had a death in the family that was really quite heartbreaking.  Our 17 year-old dog, Ozzie had to be put to sleep early in the morning of the 16th due to complications from age.  It was a heart wrenching decision, but after events that transpired during the night and early morning, our family made the conscious decision that Ozzie deserved to be at peace and in the condition he was in, that wasn’t going to happen.  His age had caught up with him and life just didn’t seem worth living anymore.

My father woke me at about 6:30 in the morning, very upset but asking me to help him get Ozzie cleaned up.  We gave him a bath and as dad cleaned himself up, I blew dry Ozzie’s fur until it shone.  Ozzie, for one reason or another, really enjoyed having his fur blown-dry, I don’t know if it’s because it reminded him of laying outside on a warm, breezy day or it just felt good to have warm air blown on him in general.  I was happy to provide him a few more minutes of any kind of joy and sat with him until dad had gotten himself ready.  By then my mom had gotten up for work and we all sat with Ozzie for a while, giving him cookies and stroking his face.  Letting him know, that even though the last few months have been hard on us, we loved him very much.  It seemed like forever before dad was able to call the vet to let them know we needed to have him put to sleep, which I know I wouldn’t have been able to handle telling them, as I was already overwhelmed with the thought of losing Ozzie forever.

Unfortunately, I was too cowardly to go with my parents to the vet to say goodbye, so I said my goodbyes to Ozzie when they were getting ready to go.  I kissed his nose and stroked his ears and let him know how much he meant to me.  And for the first time in months, he looked at me with eyes that didn’t seem to be clouded in old age and confusion.  He gave me a look I haven’t gotten from him in such a long time.  I don’t know if that made it more difficult or I was already so overwhelmed by it all that it didn’t matter.  In any case, it was nice to see the real him for the first time in a long time.

It’s been so long since Ozzie joined our family that I don’t really remember the day, but I do remember he was an adorable puppy (That might be enough to get me to look for the photos to prove it).  The pet store clerk knew for sure that his mother was a purebred Austrailian Shepard who had the papers to prove it, but apparently had a one night stand with something else.  We think maybe a Pit Bull, which would explain his intensity in protecting us.  In general though, he was a mellow dog that loved his family and really loved babies.  He was the best guard dog you could have asked for.

Ozzie during his first snow, he was only a few months old.

Ozzie was also very strong when he got older.  I distinctly remember a time when I thought I could walk him by myself… Mom often told me to wait for her to take him on walks, but I thought I was a big girl and could do it myself– Surprise, no I couldn’t.  That day my luck ran out and my nose was never the same for months.  In fact, I was coined (by my idiotic elementary gym teacher) Rudolph because I had a large red scab on the end of my nose for a very long time.  That was my fault, not Ozzie’s, but it’s definitely a memory I’ll have forever.  As you can see it didn’t really affect our relationship– or anyone’s relationship with him:

Best buddies

Ozzie and his family, when he was an only.

It wasn’t until I found these photos that I realized how much he had changed over the years.  The last few in particular when his muzzle began to gray and the things he used to love didn’t interest him anymore.  Tennis balls and bones and cookies, capture the treasure and running with Yuri.  None of these things had made him excited in such a long time and I realized how easily I had forgotten.  Seeing these photos reminded me of his exuberance and how much I miss that.

At the park

Something Ozzie loved well into his twilight years was sunbathing.  I know, sounds like a little old woman, but it’s true.  If the door was open during the summer and it was sunny, you could bet hard money he was sitting in the sunlight taking it in.  Every other dog I’ve met has always looked for shade during sunny days, but he loved it.  If he was outside, he was sitting in the only pool of sunlight our big tree let through:

See what I mean?

I loved his big nose

Ozzie gave his all in taking care of us, even in defending us against his evil arch-nemesis:

The Squirrel

Dramatization: Not actual Squirrel

Not just any squirrel– THE Squirrel.  Many a day when we were outside, the squirrel, angry with humanity for some reason, would throw bits of its nest at anything that was moving.  The dogs, people, anything.  It was would chitter madly and wait for Ozzie to dare challenge its rule. Which he did.  Often.

And The Squirrel, never came down from the tree to pick up the glove Ozzie threw down for him. Victory comes to those who are awesome.

Victory can also come when the humans aren’t home, as Ozzie found several times through the garbage, a box of fudge we had brought home from my grandmother (we discovered he didn’t like peanut butter fudge that day) or the 4 boxes of Peanut Brittle and 2.5 boxes of chocolate daisy mints from Girl Scout days… How he didn’t die of some sort of chocolate induced overdose, I will never know, but he was a sly one.  I only wish I could find the photo of him stuck, head first in a Purina cookie box– he was smart enough to eat through the bottom to try and find a way out but was sadly foiled by the size of his head.

In his whole life, I don’t think Ozzie ever stopped being a great dog.  I regret that in his last few months, my frustrations with his frailties got the best of me every once in a while.  Being woken in the wee hours of the morning for seemingly no reason and a sudden forgetfulness of the last use of the backyard and general issues frustrated me often.  At the very least it has taught me that I have to keep that in check when Yuri and Faith become frail as well.  I loved him dearly and I can only hope that he is in a better place, young and beautiful again, chasing The Squirrel and finding the very best Ol’ Roys.

Much love, Ozzie.  Rest now and we’ll see you again.

Jaina & Faith

Tragedy in the Mutt Family

Faith and I, with heavy-hearts, must announce the passing of one our dearest family members, Ozzie.  As seen in our last post, Ozzie is one of Faith’s brothers and has been a member of our family for 17 years.  I have been privileged enough to see all 17 of those years and Faith has been around for 10 of them.  No where could you find a better dog and I am not saying that simply because he was mine.

Faith and I will be back to write more, but the day has taken its toll and only seems to be getting worse.  She and I would like to take a moment to snuggle and reminisce about the days Ozzie was willing to do anything to catch “The Squirrel” in our big tree out back or play “Capture the Treasure” with the innocence of a child.  He was a dear to all of us and most especially to our family (Ozzie touched several lives not including our own) and will never be missed.  Until I can try to muddle my way through a post without starting to blubber, I’ll leave it at that, but I doubt I’ll ever be able to convey just how much he meant to our family.

Until then, we miss you sweet boy!  You were brilliant

Rest Sweet Boy