Saying Good Bye

Somewhere in the mid-1990s, a little band of stray cats took up residence in my garden. I gave them food and water, and one at a time, was able to put them in carriers to bring to the vet to be "fixed" and vaccinated. The last little guy (for some reason, they were all male) showed up almost a year after the rest, toward the end of his kittenhood. More skittish than the others, he wouldn't let me touch him directly. I had to pet one of the other cats, then he'd sidle up next to the other cat and rub against it, and then I could pet him as long as he didn't look up and see I was touching him.

During Brighter Days in 2006

He never really lost his general distrust of people (probably a good thing, being an outdoor cat), but over time we reached an understanding that I could, for very short periods, scratch his head, and he became comfortable enough to follow me around the garden at a safe distance and meow at me as I worked. I named him Joxer the Mighty, after a tv character who was also a bit of a chicken, but he became my Booboo kitty.

One by one, my feline brood passed on or disappeared and Booboo was the last of the bunch. A friend who rescues cats brought another outdoor cat, Chuck, to keep him company. Things went well until this summer, when Booboo had a tumor removed from his leg. The tumor was not biopsied, but I suspect it was cancerous. Not long after its removal, Booboo lost a lot of weight.  And then he lost his strength, began walking unsteadily and his fur lost its lustre.

Supervising in the Garden, 2007

I decided to bring him indoors when the temperatures dropped and the rains came. Even in his weakened state, he made a couple of runs at the door to try and make it back outside. But in spite of the fact that I was giving him all the food he could eat, it just went right through him, and though I didn't know it at the time, tumors had developed around his abdominal area, and he was probably starving to death. He was in such bad shape, even Piglette didn't growl at him when he took a kibble from her bowl last night (she chases Gigi for even coming near her bowl).

Thin, but still on his feet, November 2012

When I woke up this morning, I found him on the floor, unable to move, and scrambled to bring him to the vet so that he wouldn't suffer. In retrospect, by the time I found him, he was probably beyond suffering, and I'm second guessing my decision to take him to the vet. Maybe it would have been better to wrap him in a blanket and make him as comfortable as possible so he could have passed on at home. I guess I'll never be sure.

Semper Fideles

I wrote this entry one year ago in anticipation of my housemate taking his pets with him when he and his girlfriend moved down to So Cal to be closer to his ailing mother. It has been in my drafts, waiting for that fateful day when he returned to take them with him after they had settled into their new place... and that has not come to pass. Rather than let this languish in my drafts or delete it, I thought I'd post it now, in honor of MY dog.
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It seems that the cold has arrived with the month of November, a chill which didn't exist just a few days ago. While I sit at my desk, my housemate's dog lies at my feet, protecting me from the cold and anything else that may threaten me.

Piglette has been with us since September 2007, when my housemate adopted her from WKODIT (What Kind of Dog Is That?) rescue. Having been through at least two homes and a kennel, she was a tad uncertain and insecure her first months here. Being left alone made her nervous, as did bringing her anywhere in the car.

When she decided that she was in a stable place and wouldn't be abandoned again, she blossomed, and has returned more love and faithfulness than she has ever received. She is always at my side, always happy just to be near me, always protective, always wanting just to make me happy.

That's the wonderful thing about dogs -- you can always count on them to be there for you through thick and thin, to lift your spirits when you feel down, to be your faithful companion. Dogs do not know the effort you make to spend real time with them, but they always value and appreciate the time you set aside to spend with them as though they do know. People are more like cats, they tend to come and go as the mood or opportunity suits them.

Piglette is technically my housemate's dog, but she and I have formed a strong bond in the last three years. I tend to be the one who feeds her and cleans up after her, and she usually sleeps with me. So, I anticipate that when my housemate and his girlfriend move to Southern California in the next few months that giving up my faithful companion will be difficult, if not heartbreaking, for both of us. How do you take a dog that has been abandoned multiple times from the only consistent home it has known and not expect it to feel abandoned once again? And how do you abandon the most faithful, consistent companion you have ever known?

Another Dog Story

I was in the kitchen making tea when Piglet ran in to see what I was doing. She weighs over 50 pounds (23 kg) now, but at 10 1/2 months of age, she's still technically a puppy. So Piglet sees me near the food and gets excited, because she thinks I'm going to give her a doggie treat. I bend down to greet her just as she begins to rear back to jump on me and pow-pow! I get a paw in each eye! Three nights earlier, she'd been crawling up onto Steve's bed to lie down next to him and punched him in the eye! I'm looking forward to the post-puppyhood calm... at least I hope there's a post-puppyhood calm!