Sneakers: The Original Pooch

Most of my posts have been funny. Light hearted stories about silly things animals do that make us love them. This one is different. My first dog, Sneakers, died in early June, after being with me for over 13 years. I watched him go from an enthusiastic, energetic, almost puppy to an old man who loved nothing more than naps, butt scratches, and occasional barks. I was with Sneakers most of his life. What really strikes me though, is what Sneakers was there for in my life. I got him while I was still in college. He was with me through my mom's cancer and death. He moved to Colorado with me, had endless patience through all the apartments, roommates, cats, dogs, and what sometimes seemed like endless turmoil. He stayed with me through office jobs and starting a business. Sometimes he came to work with me, more often he didn't. He waited patiently for me at home. He tolerated dogs in and out of his house for most of his life. Always making room for them, especially the ones that needed him most. When I brought Killian home he was immediately drawn to Sneakers. His calm, steady personality grounded Killian in a world that was completely foreign to him. Sneakers had a knack for knowing who needed him and how he could help them.

If there is one story that I will never forget about Sneakers it was the day I brought him to work with me at the vet, when a family came in not knowing it would be the last day with their dog. Their dog was not our patient, their regular vet was out of town, so we were covering for them. A man and two children, perhaps 10 and 12 came in, with a cheerful but limping 15 year old greyhound. The greyhound was injured, and after x rays, it was found that she had terminal cancer. Her family decided to end her pain instead of prolonging it. The little boy though, had never lived in this world without her. He was devastated at losing his best friend. When he left the exam room with his sister (dad stayed with their pooch) he was wailing. It was a sound I have not often heard and one I won't forget. It cut right to the raw part of us that loves freely. That knows our animals love us and doesn't care how it looks to other people. Our love for them is true and unfettered with worry on whether it's reciprocated. I took a deep breath, and pulled the tears back from my own eyes, put Sneakers on a leash and walked out to the lobby. I asked the boy if he would like to pet Sneakers while he waited and he nodded through his tears. Sneakers hopped up on the bench next to him, and laid down in his lap, pressing his body into his chest. He waited patiently while the little boy wept, holding onto Sneakers with all he was worth, like Sneakers was the only thing keeping him on this earth. When his dad came out of the exam room, Sneakers got up and returned to me, the little boy and his sister left the office with their dad. Sneakers napped the rest of the day.

Sneakers was by no means perfect, but he was kind and sweet. I miss him every day. And I'm so grateful for his presence in my life. I never would have gotten through those years without him.

Crouching Kitty, Hidden Boardgames

I have a long history of playing games with animals in the house. Sometimes it's uneventful, like when you have a dog snoozing under the table. Sometimes, though, we're playing with cats in the house. I remember regularly sliding my child hood cat, Spook, off the Monopoly board (he sat right in the middle where the Free Parking pot was). My mom and I would argue over who would have to get him off because sometimes he would retaliate. I had mostly forgotten about this until playing a game of Dungeons and Dragons in my friend's house. He has two cats. One is sweet and quiet. So quiet that his name is Whisper. The other is sometimes fun and friendly, and sometimes all claws and teeth. Anyway, we set up the game, complete with minis and maps and dice. While in a particularly intense battle, Summit the cat leapt from his perch, scattering the minis and dice. He looked very proud of himself. And when his dad shooed him off, the claws came out. Spook lives on!

Flying Couscous, Smiling Bug

Here's a story from my friend, Kelsey. Her dog, Bug is a little terrier mix who smiles when he's nervous. Probably because he did it once and everyone laughed and stopped being mad. He does it on command but he also does it when he thinks he might be in trouble. When dogs are a part of your lives, you often find them in the way or tripping over them. In my house, this usually results in a bad word and then an apology and hug to the dog in question. One day, Bug's mom was standing in the kitchen talking to her fiancé about what they were going to have for dinner. She was holding a bag of couscous and tossing it back and forth from one hand to another. Bug was standing nearby watching the bag go back and forth. As happens from time to time, Kelsey missed the bag. It went flying across the room and right into Bug's face. He immediately began to smile, pacing from one side of the room to another with a smile plastered on his face. Naturally, his people were laughing riotously and telling him he wasn't in trouble but this just resulted in him continuing to smile. Eventually he was showered with love and hugs and all was right with the world. The couscous was cooked and everyone was happy.

Buddy Proofing Folly

Buddy is a sweet lab mix you mostly just wants to snuggle or play with his friends. He's very comfortable in his home but when he stays with me (or anywhere) he has some pretty serious separation anxiety. I tried a number of things with him, including leaving him in the house, in his room, with a friend, without, with toys and food, without. Nothing worked. I almost always came home to a river of pee, the closet door opened and stuff pulled out and eaten. He could open drawers, even the refrigerator. This led to an eventful and lengthy process of attempting to "Buddy Proof" the dog room. I moved the dog food into the closet that locked, got a tension mounted curtain rod to keep the other closet door from moving, spun the refrigerator around. He still managed to open the drawers and pull kibble out of there. I was really worried that he was going to hurt himself getting into things or eat something that would make him sick. Every time I came home, I would find a new challenge and fix it. After months of trial and error, I finally found a method that works. Everything food related is barricaded in the closet and Buddy gets a frozen Kong when I leave. When I come home now, his room is clean and his face is smiling. And if it's Buddy proof, it's dog proof.

Heidi's New Bling

Heidi the Weimeraner has some interesting habits. One is that if she is left at home when people are not with her, she will without fail, get into the trash if it's available to her. Her mom warned me and I took it to heart. Normally I lock it in the bathroom but sometimes I forget. These days, I have a locking trash bin, so even if it's left out, it's pretty hard for her to break into (though she did manage it once). When she first started staying with me, I had a normal trash can with one of those lids that flip around. I still locked it in the bathroom but like I said, sometimes I forget. One day, I came home to Heidi, with a beautiful new necklace. Her big weimeraner face was smiling and her little tail stub was wiggling and the trash lid was hanging around her neck. Ohhh Heidi

Mad Max

This one is also from the history books, from the same household as Morgan. Max was a roommate's dog also. He was an Italian Spinone that had one of the biggest senses of humor that I've ever seen in a dog. He would eat all his food except for one kibble and then guard it from the rest of the dogs until his mom would yell at him and tell him to finish and he would. Then he'd dance away, super proud of himself for his shenanigans. The best story though, is how much he loved it when we used citronella collars. We didn't need them very often, but with 5 dogs in the house sometimes things would escalate and we needed some backup in our zone defense. Max thought this was the best, as long as he wasn't the one wearing it. We noticed that the other dogs would avoid him when they were wearing the collars. We thought that was weird but it was pretty subtle so we figured we were making things up. Until one day, we walked into the room and he was so excited to see another dog with the collar on that he ran right up to them, ducked his head under theirs and made a very quiet woof. The collar went off and sprayed the dog wearing it in the face, missing Max completely. He danced and smiled and scooted away, leaving us in fits of laughter and with a decision to stop using the citronella collars.

From the History Books

I've been hanging around dogs for a long time. There are a number of stories from "way back". This one is from the days when I had roommates. Morgan was a super sweet lab/rottie/pit mix who loved her family but wasn't necessarily thrilled about others. She was also super intense about the laser pointer. She loved it to the point that we couldn't play it very often because she would obsess over it. We called it her "buggy" and if you asked if she wanted to play with the buggy her big eyes would pop and she would run in circles. When she chased the light she would muzzle punch it and nip it with her front teeth. This was adorable... but also dangerous! She would do this no matter where the light was. Floors, walls, couch, your leg. This was OK if you knew were paying attention. But occasionally, you would fall asleep on the couch. One of your clever roommates would quietly get up and grab the laser pointer... and point it at your leg. You'd wake up to a little pinch and a dog that is really confused about why you just yelped in alarm. Roommates are jerks.