Dearest Rosie

Rosie, lying down, and Pal

I am sad to write that the vet said today that it was time to let Rosie go.  She had lung cancer and a cancerous, infected, bleeding tumor with large opening on her tummy.  I kept her bandaged and was no problem to deal with, but the tumor was dangerous for her because it was getting worse and worse.  She could not have survived being put to sleep and having it removed.  Even if treated, it was only a matter of weeks before the lung cancer would win.  I did not want her to suffer.

She was a trooper.  She did not act sick, kept eating and taking happy strolls every day, around the yard with wagging tail.  Although she was blind, she was able to find her way around very well and could find me when she wanted to.  She had no teeth, and this last year,  I fed her one of the best canned dog foods available.  She thoroughly enjoyed.  She would jump for me to pick her up, even this afternoon.  She had habit of barking and barking and barking when she wanted something:  to eat, to go outside, to lie under my chair while I worked at the computer or to be put to bed at night (in my bed).  Otherwise she was quiet and slept lots.  She loved to be held and sighed often when snuggling in my arms.  She was very old but acted very young.  Her estimated birthday was in 1996.  She would have been 18 this year.  The vet was amazed when we talked about her age. 

She was truly a gift from God and gave me far more than I gave  her, as they all do.

I realize tonight that Rosie's passing ends a special period of my life and a special group of five dogs, our original group of very sweet and lovely ones.  First there was Poppy, then Juniper, Pal, Tashee, and Rosie.  They are all gone now along with my husband Tom who loved them more than I can describe.

A new and younger group began with the adoption of Abby and Ben.  I am so grateful for their presence now and sweet kisses as I could not bear coming home to an empty house with no one to greet me.

Memories of My Little Family

A Post from Poppy's Mom

I live on the coast of Mississippi, in the county where Katrina hit the hardest (yes, harder than New Orleans).  I am now classified as too old by a certain dog rescue organization who would not allow me to adopt one of their dogs.  I am 71.  I am retired from the U. S. Court of Appeals in New Orleans but work part time at a paying job and constantly doing volunteer work, especially on the computer, and especially for my high school friends (I have a blog for them) and my Franciscan friends (blog and website for them).  I also have this blog for my dogs. 

I lost my husband last year along with my best friend, my daughter-in-law and one of our dogs, Juniper - four extremely important ones gone in less than six months.  I miss them all very much and am so grateful for the company and comfort of my dog family.  I have fostered once since my husband passed away but cannot do this again.  I am still trying to adjust to my new situation (I'm sure you understand) and don't think I am capable anymore of loving a foster and then letting go.  It takes being able to love lots but with a certain detachment that I no longer have.

I have four children:  3 Maltese, Tashee, Pal, and Rosie, and a Yorkie, Abby.  Rosie is a permanent foster for NCMR and is blind.  Tashee is almost 16, Pal, 14, and Rosie will be 16 this year.  Abby was adopted a couple of years ago and is estimated to be about 7.  There is great likelihood, of course, that it will not be too much longer before only Abby and I will be left.  She is my darling girl. 

Most of the seniors sleep lots and Tashee, who was the love of my life, is now distant, lost in her aging world.  She gives some kisses, sleeps nearby but no longer cuddles or wants to stay in my lap, growling often at everyone who comes near.  Pal remains adorable and affectionate, sitting in my lap right now, but is a little old man who still likes to play fetch.  Little blind Rosie must be the healthiest of them all, taking no medicine and when she is excited, jumps a couple of feet off the floor and twirls and barks.  She loves to be held and swoons and sighs with delight.  They taught me about love, and now they are teaching me about being old.  

Tashee was given to us by our groomer/breeder, and Pal was adopted from NCMR after recovering from heart worms.  I rescued Rosie and her best friend, Teddy, from the shelter.  They had been adopted but returned.  Teddy suffered with a severely collapsed trachae, loved me and Rosie with all his heart, and was young and healthy except for this one problem.  After several months, he had to be put to sleep.  Abby was rescued from a bad and neglectful situation, not receiving good medical care.  She has a mild case of heart worms and one eye that has been damaged by infections and dry eye before I adopted her.  The eye problem is being managed and has improved a little.  I pray that she will not have to have it removed one day.

All these sweet ones came into my life when I was not looking for another one - they just knocked on the door and I asked them in to love for the rest of their lives.  We all sleep together in the "big" bed.  Before I turn off the light at night, I look around at all them, and no matter what is going on, I feel grateful and believe that life is good. 

I seek to make God the center of my life, but on another and lesser level, my dog family is a center, and I have cried more for those dogs in my life - Poppy, Juniper, Teddy, Sammy, Lucy, Molly, Sophie and Nikki - who have passed away than most people family members and friends.  I know my mother understands.

My love to my little grandson, Peyton, who has blessed us all more than he will ever know. 

Love and Prayers, Ouida

 

My Poppy

When you're happy, dance around and wag your entire body. Yes, that’s what my husband Tom and I learned the day Poppy came into our lives and hearts. It was Tom’s birthday, December 18, 1996 , one week before Christmas. I suppose our actions that day might be explained by the season and the birthday. My husband says that it was the hand of God.

We were in a festive mood as we decided to go to the Edgewater Mall for lunch and Christmas shopping. As always, upon entering the mall, we stopped at the pet store to look at the puppies. It was not that we wanted one - we simply liked to look at them because they were so cute.

On this particular day, a little white one caught my eye. “Look, Tom,” I said to my husband, “there’s your dog!” For weeks I had had a picture of a little white dog on our refrigerator. I had been referring to him as “Tom’s dog.” One of the employees overheard my remark. “Would you like to see him?” she asked. The puppy was beckoning to us, standing on two feet and waving his front paws. “Oh, yes,” I said, eager to hold this sweet little furry ball. So the young woman gathered him up and led us into a little room, appropriately called the “Love Room.” We didn’t know it at that moment, but our fate was sealed.

We sat on a small bench in this small room with this small Maltese puppy. I held him in my arms while he licked and wiggled. Love grew. It filled the room in the presence of his energy and excitement. My husband and I laughed. We were transformed, charmed and fascinated by this little one who obviously adored us. How could we resist?

I put him on the floor for a better view. He continued his earlier dance, standing on two feet and waving his front paws, all as if to say, “Take me, take me.” Tom and I began to cry. “I’m in love,” my husband moaned. “I’m not leaving without him,” I sobbed. At that point the puppy, overcome with emotion himself, deposited a lump on the floor, but that did not break the spell. “Oh!” we said and laughed. “Look at what you did.”

Suddenly, reality hit. “Tom, we have to stop a minute and think about this.” I knew we were being carried away by our feelings, not by a decision made beforehand. Did we really want the responsibility? Did we really want this dog?

We left to go to lunch, begging the pet store manager to hold the puppy for us until we came back. I do not recall much discussion during lunch about the pros and cons of purchasing a dog. I only remember our laughter and a joy that filled our hearts. I also remember the ride home that night, a puppy in a box and a car full of puppy food, bowls, cage, bed and other so-called necessities.

Poppy was not named immediately, but the name became obvious as he continued to dance and hop around on his hind legs. The hopping and the white hair reminded us of popcorn popping so he became Poppy.

Within about 15 months, Poppy had a brother named Juniper. Juniper was a planned baby, and we visited him and his mother soon after he was born. He was a little fellow, smaller than my hand, named after one of Saint Francis’ friars, Brother Juniper, who was said to be a lovable clown.

Then one day we received a call from the owners of Juniper’s mother. Would we like to have her, they asked? The answer, of course, was yes, and soon we had a daughter, Tashee. Later, along came Pal. He was our foster, but we adopted him. Recently, Rosie, another foster, came to live with us. She is a senior lady who is almost blind. She probably will remain as a permanent foster. So now we have five Maltese dogs in our home.

The Maltese is a very affectionate breed, and they are perpetual puppies in many ways. Ours always want to be with us and a part of any gathering. They are our children, and I sleep entwined with Tashee and Pal and sometimes all of them. Yes, I know. The book says do not sleep with your dogs, but sometimes it is best to ignore the advice of books.

ADDENDUM: In 1996, when we bought Poppy from a pet store, we knew nothing about the fact that one should not buy dogs from pet stores, as they are supplied by puppy mills. We knew nothing puppy mills nor all the evil and horrors that exist in these places. Our story about buying Poppy is the perfect example of how folks are suckered into buying dogs from pet stores. (They wrote a song about it: "How much is that doggie in the window? (arf! arf!)? The one with the waggley tail? How much is that doggie in the window? (arf! arf!) I do hope that doggie's for sale.")

Poppy is from a puppymill in Missouri. Of all of our dogs, including fosters we have had, Poppy is the most unhealthy. His legs are deformed and he has weird blood test results which point to serious diseases but yet the diseases aren't developed - just funny symptoms. He has problems with dry eyes and now he has glaucomo. His little paws are always dry and crusty. He is the most friendly of all of our dogs and very sweet. I worry about him more than all the others, especially his sight.

My husband and I love Poppy more than I could ever say and would never take back our decision that day when we bought him but in no way do we advocate buying from a pet store or puppy mill. Go to a reputable breeder. Or better still, adopt a rescue. As I write, there are 437 Maltese available for adoption on Pet Finder. http://www.petfinder.com/ Give one of these sweet, innocent dogs a forever home!!