Nikki – St Nicholas’ White Christmas. A big name for a little dog, but what a package smallness comes in. I will never forget the day I saw you. Daddy and I were shopping in the mall and we would always torture ourselves by looking at the puppies in Dr Pet Center. I saw you and it was definitely love at first sight. I had never seen a white Peke before; and while all the puppies who were pulled out for people to fawn over seemed so timid, you came out just blazing. You were giving kisses so fierce your little tongue went right up the nose.
I called to your Daddy and he took one look and just shook his head. Later that evening on the drive home we were both telling each other all the reasons we did not need a fourth dog in the house. I should have known…the next day Daddy called me at work and told me a “nice couple” had purchased the white puppy. And after work he came to pick me up – with you.
When we brought you home that night Biggin took one look and you could almost hear him think “oh, no, not another one”. Besides Biggin, we had Sunshine, the Golden Retriever who wasn’t much more than a puppy herself as she was only four months older than you; and Buddy, a German Shepherd. Biggin was Daddy’s dog and the two of you became such good buddies. We loved to watch you stalk your 84 pound brother with your little 10 pound body. You thought you were so tough. Biggin would lay on the floor with his great head on his paws and you could see his tail start to wag – then POUNCE – and you would charge and he’d lift that great head of his so you could bounce off of his chest. You two played this game endlessly. And of course when Biggin had enough he let you know in his own way – the first time happened so fast, I didn’t have time to react until it was over. Biggin leaned down toward you and you literally disappeared in his mouth. He did not leave one single, solitary mark on you, and you behaved yourself;
for a while anyway.
Your “grandparents” adored you. They could not believe you were in the same household with three other big dogs and holding your own. You even liked the neighbors although you did chase their cats and tried to attack their shepherd mix. You certainly were a spirited little dog. When I took you someplace and someone would remark what a cute dog you were, I would have to warn them not to touch because you would nip. Even the vet got a kick out of you because you would curl your lip or growl at them, but they knew how to handle you and I think you learned that they genuinely tried to make you feel better.
I remember the time you got hold of Daddy’s imitation snakeskin boots – he had bought them when we first met – and one day he started to put them on and the whole top layer just peeled off. He did say some unkind words at that time. You also loved to climb up on his chest and lay there while he rubbed your ears and I think you did the equivalent of a cat purring when you made your little noises. But look out if you got excited because you would then proceed to use Daddy’s body as a spring board to jump off the bed.
This sometimes entailed you running down the course of Daddy’s body and causing considerable pain to certain areas. I would laugh so hard I’d cry while he’d tear up for other reasons. And the snoring – oh Lord, little dog, how you could snore. There were many times Daddy and I looked at each other and upon realizing neither of us was raising the roof, would look at you sleeping peacefully
in the headboard of our bed.
You and Biggin had an endearing habit – when Tiki, the bird, would start vocalizing, you would start barking and howling and eventually Biggin would chip in with some low rumbles of his own. I don’t know if you were trying to imitate the bird or if his squawking hurt your ears. You tried to play with him by putting your little paw on his back once, but he just scurried away not even bothering to fly; he knew you wouldn’t hurt him, that you just wanted to play. Your duet with the bird made for some interesting telephone conversations. How I miss those noises.
Nikki, one of the most precious things you ever did was to use your soft little paws to “pet us. You would lie on Daddy’s broad chest and “talk” to him; if he pretended he couldn’t hear you, you would stick out that little paw, almost like a cat, and gently paw his nose. You would do the same thing to Biggin when he was lying down; you would just walk up to him and take that paw, put it on Biggin’s muzzle and gently nudge him. I was always amazed how soft
your little paws were.
You trusted us completely and without any kind of hesitation. I could hold you like a baby and you would be so relaxed. Some little dogs tense up
because I assume they feel like they would fall(it is a pretty good distance to the floor for a little thing like you), but you never seemed to
be concerned. The only time you seemed to be nervous was when we got in the above ground pool. You couldn’t see us unless we were walking around the end, so we got the pool float and had you join us. You would walk to the end of the float and look like you were the captain of a ship. I don’t think you cared much for swimming, but you gave that a shot as well. It certainly made your white coat sparkle when you got out. My little white dog…
We found out when you were relatively young that you had a heart murmur and that we should have you checked out by a specialist. Imagine our surprise when we found you actually had congestive heart failure (fluid in the lungs and all), but we were fortunate in many ways. The doctor told us if she had to find such a problem, she was happy to catch it in such an early stage and in a young dog; you had the strength of your youth going for you. So started your years of regular medication.
Over the course of time we lost Buddy, but gained Samantha, a stray with a retriever mix background. You had a new sister to play with. She was solid black and you were solid white and you were so enjoyable to watch as you rolled between her front paws as she muzzled you. You didn’t seem to have any problems with newcomers as long as they wound up bigger than you. You certainly
didn’t care for little dogs.
In 2001 we lost our beloved Biggin and your biggest playmate. Three weeks later you became so ill, we were afraid we were going to lose you too and I could not bear the thought of that. You were so listless and had a fever so high, it was one degree shy of throwing you into convulsions. You had to be given IV fluids and the IV bag was in a container of water with an ice pack in the effort to lower your fever.
Convinced you had cancer, we prepared to say goodbye, but again our wonderful vet came through and said “…it’s good news…it’s Lyme Disease…”. Well, it was certainly better than cancer. For two weeks we kept a vigil as this condition worked it’s way through you, but gradually the high fever was not so high, and we started bringing you home for the day and taking you back to the vet for observation in the evening. You were so weak, Daddy would let you in the front yard rather than the back and keep an eye on you. We knew you were much better when you started chasing the neighbor’s cat and Daddy had to run zig-zagging all over the yard to try to catch you. That was one vision I didn’t have the privilege of seeing, but I can just imagine it and it always makes me smile.
One year to the day, you had a relapse of the Lyme disease, but this time we were ahead of the game; I recognized the symptoms and your treatment took about half the time. For the next several years we tried to prevent a relapse by giving you antibiotics for a couple of months prior to the time you would expect to break out. We were very successful. You were a strong spirited little dog and that strong spirit kept your heart strong.
In 2002 several things happened. You got a new brother, Chief, and you were very bossy with him. I told you to be careful because you were getting older and Chief was just a puppy, but already much bigger than you. Chief was a shining moment for all of us because my own human Daddy had passed away; Samantha left our home to live with your Grandma and keep her company; and then another blow – Sunshine went to the Rainbow Bridge just before Christmas. But tragedies always seem to bring something ultimately good – a little stray we named Gypsy joined the family and you were very happy bossing her all over the place. Sometimes I worried that Chief and Gypsy would gang up on you, and they were not always very careful. But you made your presence known, you attacked Gypsy many times and kept her on her toes. This was another big game to the two of you. You grabbed poor Chief by the lip one time and really made him holler; Chief kind of kept his distance from then on, but I would catch you lying next to each other or licking each others ears and all was right in the canine world.
In 2003 I wanted a family portrait before the holidays. I was lucky enough to convince your stubborn Daddy to get his picture taken and he now shows off this picture of our little family. Nikki, you had the biggest smile in the bunch. Of course you did try to attack the came a man for good measure – I’m glad he was a friend of mine.
What a bundle of spunk you could be – if it wasn’t a family member or someone you knew, you would attack. You were a very good watch dog and took your job very seriously. Even when friends would come over, you might tolerate being picked up and petted, but then you’d try to nip when they put you down. You were the typical ankle biter; no one will ever understand how endearing that could be – only because it was in you and the way you did it. Only you.
In 2004 you had to have your heart medications tweaked a bit and things were working nicely, but we realized you were getting older and possibly a bit senile. So this time I wanted a portrait of you. Glamor Shots did a great job and I look at those pictures of you every day. What a beautiful little boy you were. My personal glamor shot is one of you outdoors and your looking at me as I take the picture; you are pure white against the green grass with a slight breeze indicated in the direction your fur is blowing…and I think again what a beautiful little boy.
Last November we thought were going to lose you -again – and what made it so bad is we had planned to go to Texas for Daddy’s family reunion. But your Grandma came over to babysit and while we told her things to do to take care of you and to possibly expect the worst. We were so worried, so concerned that you might not be with us when we got back. Your little back would obviously hurt and you definitely had some arthritis, probably a result of the Lyme disease. And the fact that 14 years is a great age for a dog, even a little one. Our vet gave you wonderful treatments and they always made you feel better, so you were quite perky when we left and Grandma took over for a week. We were so happy to be home and get smothered with your little kisses. Your days of jumping up, over and through the air were pretty much a thing of the past, but you could sometimes still dance on this little hind legs. We were afraid your little body was going to wear out before your spirit did.
Those little hind legs used to be solid muscle and now they were so thin, there were times they could hardly hold you up, but you never gave up and you never stayed down long; if you happened to lose your balance, you just bounced right back up again. Nikki, the Lion Hearted. The New Year showed you slowly getting weaker and you became picky about your food. The vet told us last summer you had early stages of kidney failure, so we made sure you had a proper diet and were determined we would make sure you had a good quality of life. You had meds to keep you from vomiting because that was a strain on your little heart. You got stuff for symptoms like heartburn and then you went right back to gobbling your food and begging from us. But slowly, oh, so slowly we saw you get weaker and eat and drink less; and sleep more. We got you two beds for different comfort levels and many times you needed help getting in them. You might have needed some help getting to your feet, but once you had your balance you were everywhere. You poor little thing, your hearing and your eyesight was going and sometimes we had to help you inside and out. The last six weeks it seemed like you were at the vet almost every other day. One day I came home for lunch and you did not greet me. While I feared the worst, Daddy and I would have liked nothing better than for you to fall into one of your peaceful sleeps and stay there. But I found you listless and not moving – and not interested in anything.
I was concerned about hurting you if you were in pain, so I scooped you up on your bed pillow and took you to the vet. It was very unlike you to just lay there and not try to climb onto my lap. I was so very worried about you, but the doctor told me you were dehydrated because you weren’t eating and drinking enough, and once you had some fluids you did your usual return to a spunky character. I was already having a problem getting food into you and we were constantly looking for a source you’d be interested in, especially since that was how you got your medicine. There were many missed doses during those days. Once you had a new interest, you devoured it, but this new found interest would always be short lived.
About a week later Daddy came home and you were in the same shape – he thought you were going to slip away in his arms and he was just holding you. But as he held you, he said you seemed to regain that stubborn will again, and by the time I arrived home from work, you were up and moving. He couldn’t believe it – then I told him how I had found you that day at lunch.
A couple of trips back to the vet for an orthopedic treatment to help your back and try some new food supplements. You seemed interested in food, but when it was offered, you backed off. Were you trying to tell us something? I even thought you might have a problem drinking, so I syringe fed you water to make sure you were hydrated. You seemed to be doing so well, all things considered.
My little Nikki, I think I started grieving for you weeks ago as I realized all the little things that slowly you had discontinued (the howling with the bird, the jumping, the talkative nature, the feisty nature; climbing on the back of the couch just to look at us); you just didn’t seem like you were having a lot of fun these days.
On Monday, April 10th, your Grandma came by for an unexpected visit to drop off some things she had bought and she got to see you during one of your best times. You were so responsive to her and she was so happy to see you. Little did I know what the following day would do.
Your Daddy was off and was doing his usual errands, but he came by and checked on you often. You had developed an eye problem we initially thought were cataracts, but then were told it might have been a result of being dehydrated – he doctored your eye and told me
you were fine
after he checked in.
A few short hours after Daddy left you, I came home and found you lying in the dining room floor just trembling. You were trembling so hard I questioned whether you could be having a seizure. I called your Daddy and told him to come home. I was already planning on taking you to the vet, but he said to go on and he would meet us there. My poor little dog, you were so limp; this time I wrapped you in a towel and you were so, so still in the car. Even your breathing was different, labored. When we got to the vet, Daddy parked the car and I took you inside. Everyone there knows you – your file encompassed two volumes!
We took you in a room and the doctor came in to check you out. You actually showed a little more activity when he came in and your trembling had stopped, but again we said how long could we keep this up? How long is too long? Are you trying to tell us something? This is the age old question animal lovers face and it’s never, never easy. Should we do tests to confirm any seizure activity? and if there was, what? More meds that you wouldn’t take?? The doctor told us he could probably make you more comfortable and we could take you back home, but I kept asking myself what you were coming home to…you had no interest in food, drinking was a chore and I hated forcing anything down because you would start fighting it. Then the doctor said with all the illness you had endured over the years, you had come further than any of us had ever expected and then some. He told us you were living on someone else’s time now, not yours.
I realized if you did not make the decision for yourself, we could not keep you here for us, we needed to give God back the gift he had given us. It was especially hard for Daddy because he had never had to make a decision like this in all his years of dog ownership; The doctor assured us we had done all we could to make your life comfortable and this was the last kindness we could do for you. When you were finally still, I was able to stop crying – it was hardest to leave you, I just wanted to keep petting you and not let you go, but I knew you would ultimately come home to us.
A little dog could not have been loved more; you gave us so much joy, laughter, happiness, frustration, and worry in your lifetime. You are an unforgettable character, my little White Christmas dog, so now, go find Sunshine and give her a kiss for us – and find Biggin and bounce off his chest.
Our Little White Dog,
| Nikki |
| 11, Apr 2006 |
| Joan and Dave Altizer |