We Wish you a Merry Christmas…

AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Merry Christmas one and all.  Faith, the gang and I hope everyone has a pleasant and spirited holiday and that 2011 starts out wonderfully.

I’ll post photos later about our own celebration and what and alllll the toys the fuzzy faces got.  Because, frankly– They got way more than the rest of us.

Until then!

Jaina

Faith’s Face Redux

Faith is home!

I knew my worries were probably a little overzealous– but you can’t blame a girl for caring.  I wasn’t actually kept up to speed with her surgery on Friday morning since I hadn’t dropped her off and wasn’t really available until after she was done with it and recuperating anyway.  I spent most of the day worrying and waiting for someone to call to tell me any news at all.  Friday was also the day everything was happening: Work, Faith’s surgery, a mandatory orchestra audition, more work, paperwork, blahblahblah.  A lot of it stuff I didn’t want to do– I know, I know, suck it up, you’re an adult.

Whatever.

Regardless, I was looking forward to seeing her and got home, just in time to see her with the cone of shame, barging through the house towards the door.  Seeing her face made me cringe:

Ow.

She got a lot more stitches then we were expecting, and they apparently became concerned about the cyst near to her nose that’s been there for years and hasn’t caused nearly as much trouble so they had us authorize it’s removal.  It’s sad how much they have to cut in order to get all of the cyst, but I would rather them be thorough than sloppy, especially if the cysts are less likely to return now or if there’s even the slightest chance they might be cancerous.  So, although it might look pretty nasty now, I’m sure it’ll improve and her fur will grow back and if the scars don’t hide under that… She can tell people she got into a brawl with a Puma or something.

I’m just glad she’s home.  Since someone has been at home at some point to watch her, she hasn’t had to wear the cone of shame too often and strangely enough, Paisley has been leaving her alone.  She’ll talk to her and all of that, but she hasn’t tried to bite Faith’s face more than once the last day or so.  In fact, once her painkillers kicked in, Faith kept trying to goad Paisley into playing tug.  To which my mother promptly grounded them.

Of course that didn’t stick, since I bought about $40 worth of treats, toys and other fun stuff for her to make her feel better.  She had a rough first night home, her pain medication didn’t seem to be working and she was miserable.  So I was a good Mom and brought her own version of “Graham crackers and Sprite”.  Her stitches don’t come out for 14 days, which I think is way too long, but what do I know?  So I might as well make her happy.

Thank you all who kept her in your thoughts (I know of a few friends on Facebook that have been following as of late, I appreciate your well wishes.) it helped me and I’m sure it helped Faith, knowing you were thinking of her.

I know she’s fine, but it got me sentimental thinking about her– I’m a little rusty working with Final Cut, since I haven’t done anything substantial on it since my U of I days.  So bear with me if there are issues–  I know it’s just pictures, but everything in the video is of those people and things that she has loved throughout her life

Hope you enjoy (Ohh, by the way, before I get sued– The song is Forbidden Friendship from the How to Train Your Dragon soundtrack– by John Powell.  I know, I don’t own it.  If I did, do you think I’d have to stoop to using other people’s music?)

Until then,

Jaina

Faith’s Face

Well, add one more to 2010′s victory over all that is pleasant and making it utterly suck.  About a week ago, I took Faith to the vet to have her face looked at.  In the last few years, Faith has become a fairly lumpy dog.  She has cysts on her face that come and go and a few that have concerned me as something more nefarious.

Recently, a second cyst showed up on Faith’s cheek and has since become problematic.  Between scratching it open and Paisley hanging off of it like monkey bars, this cyst refuses to shrink or heal and often breaks open and bleeds.  It’s obviously painful and it makes a mess and needs to go away.  Thankfully, as of Monday the preliminary test results of the needle aspiration her veterinarian (who is amazing) took came back negative for cancer.  I remain hopeful that this won’t change come the results of the cyst pathology once it’s removed.

It isn’t a particularly invasive surgery, but as Faith is 11-12 years old (since she’s a stray, we’re guesstimating) putting her under anesthesia is always scary.  I always worry when any of my pets are ill and away from me for any given time– Or if I’m on vacation or having to leave them.  I’m sure I over worry, but I can’t help it sometimes.  I just want to know they’re ok.

But Faith– Faith has been my friend since I was 13 years old.  I was in middle school, the most awkward, ridiculous, hormone drenched era of my life when she wandered into it and she’s made life better.  She’s been naughty, perfect, in-between and always my buddy since day one.  She has judged boyfriends, loved my friends, kept me sane through my college years and has accumulated a box of squeakies so full, I wouldn’t know what to do with them if she didn’t come home– So I’d rather not inherit them, if at all possible.

So, keep her in your thoughts if you would.  I really cannot deal with another heartbreak, another loss or even whisper of a hiccup this year.  I want her to be healthy and happy while also maintaining what’s left of my sanity.  That’s all I’m asking.  Really.

Until then,

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

And He’s Back…

Well… He’s been back for a while, but you never want to report on these things too soon– and I’m lazy. So here is an update on Yuri’s condition.

February 4th, Yuri went in for his surgery, he needed to have part of his Thyroid removed and several bladder stones needed to be taken out.  As a 14 year old dog, there was no guarantee that he was going to survive the surgery and if he did, there was no guarantee he would recuperate well; nobody knew what was really going to happen.  So we gave him lots of kisses and goodbyes and see-you-laters and waited impatiently all day to hear how things had gone.

And then the vet finally called…

HE WAS OK!!!!  He had made it through his surgery very well and was resting.  He had woken from anesthesia and started howling almost immediately– Which is typical for a Husky who doesn’t like the vet.

Actually– That’s just a typical Husky everyday.

However, he was disturbing the other patients (not to mention the staff, I bet) so he was given a sedative until he was in his “happy place”…

Translation: He finally shut up.

That Saturday morning we got to bring him home and he was not at ALL sluggish or lethargic.  Which shocked us all as we expected him to feel miserable after such a horrific sounding surgery.  However, as soon as they brought him into the waiting room and he realized we were there, he was ready to go.  He got out the door before we did and was impatiently waiting for someone to ‘start the frigging car already because it’s cold out and he has no fur now!’  It was better than anyone expected, it was brilliant!

The car ride home was both happy and furry (he still sheds like crazy even though he’s shaved like a poodle) and it was nice to know he would be coming home.  I was so afraid any sudden stop would send him hurtling to his stitch-popping death, I had a vice grip on him the whole way home.  My coat still hasn’t recovered from the fur overload.  But, he had a happy homecoming regardless, because let me tell you– Somebody who shall remain nameless but is both yellow and Husky-like, missed him very much:

I wait hewe fow Yuwi.

Yuri was so happy to be home, I didn’t get much more than blurs for photos, so I can’t say there’s much to show except the many faces of Yuri on drugs:

Is this real?!

Whoaaaa....

I need sleeeeeeppp!

Yeah, he was a little out of it, but check out his new haircut!  To be fair, since it’s been almost two weeks, it’s already started to grow back– Mom says it makes him look mysterious, I think he thinks he looks stupid, since everyone comments on how beautiful his fur is.  Hard to be beautiful when your claim to fame is half gone, but hey, what do I know?

His stitches weren't as gross as last time, and he didn't try to pull them out either! They've been out for a week now.

Sorry it’s blurry– He honestly would not stop moving and that’s ok with me.  It means he was happy to be home and feeling good.

Yes-- They did shave *everything*... Poor guy.

Why Mister Spock-- Your ears have grown rather fuzzy...

At least they didn’t take all his fur off.  But after the excitement of seeing his girls and humans, he needed to rest again.  And it was good.

Rest my good boy, we'll be here in the morning.

But not before he let us know he hadn’t forgotten where the cookie jar is:

Nah, just dump 'em all on the floor, I'll take care of it.

So now, after all of this, he is stitch free, his fur is growing back in, he can pee normally and he doesn’t have to go back to the vet to have his calcium levels tested anymore (since they had to remove half of a gland that controls that stuff, they needed to make sure the remaining half could take over sufficiently and keep his now normal levels at normal) he can now stay home and chillax on his bed or around the house rather than be carted off to doggy daycare while the humans go to work and earn monies to pay for his surgery.  I’d say he’s rather thrilled about the bed part, but isn’t particularly sympathetic about the toils of his human pets.  Or as he would say:

“I’m half naked– Get over yourself.”

Anyway, I am THRILLED my boy is home and is looking so wonderful.  Even with the missing fur, he looks fabulous, he seems healthier (and has from day one).  My only concern is now when he breathes, he either sounds like he’s percolating or he’s practicing his Darth Husky impression.  It’s funny some days, others it concerns me, even if doesn’t concern the vet.

They can’t be right all of the time.  Anyway, he’s home, he’s happy, we’re happy, he better live forever now and we all realized how much we love and missed him.

Yo'we my favowite Yuwi.

Until next time,

Jaina, Faith, Yuri & Paisley Puppy

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