You were given to me as a birthday gift. You were just 9 weeks old and such a little ball of fur. From the start, you insisted laying between Jamie & I instead of on the floor. Right between us you laid your head on the pillow, like a person.
Just Monday you left us. I can’t believe it. Oreo, I had no idea that you were going to go. I wish that I knew. Within hours of bringing you home from the vet. You were there for 5 days. You have never been boarded before, and I thought this was the best choice for you. I know how you hate to be alone. I thought that at an animal clinic where there were other dogs and people, and vets! that would care after you would be the best.
You know how we hated you marking all over the house. We thought that getting you neutered would help. Kill two birds in one stone. You did great in the surgery, I heard you were happy & playing over the weekend. When I came early Monday morning to pick you up, you weren’t you. You gave me one tail wag. Oreo, I asked them what was wrong. I believed them when they told me it was stress, depression or soreness from the surgery. Had I known that you were fine just the day before, I would have been more adamant right then, but I didn’t know that. You were breathing so heavily and so labored. I hope you know that I called and we went back to the vet. They chose to give you some pain medicine without seeing you. I thought that you must have been in pain by the way you were breathing and making noises. Nobody at the clinic corrected me or advised me of any concern when I called and asked about your breathing and lethargic-ness.
They just allowed me to bring you in the office and pick up pain medication without asking to see you. All four feet fell from out underneath you. I thought that I had just stressed you out more, bringing you back in that place. Nobody said anything. I wish I did. I called the vet again 20 minutes before you passed. I was worried about you.
I miss you so much Oreo. You have taught me so much.
Lessons learned:
1. Always put the garbage up when leaving the house. This includes any shoes, baby bottles, formula, or food, especially
my morning coffee on the tray table.
2. Don’t leave chocolate within reach. Even if Santa leaves it out.
3. If lost, stop and listen for human activity and there you will be found eagerly lapping up the attention.
4. Even if a shower or bath gets you clean, you just want to make sure. Either that or he is thirsty and beating you to each drop before you wipe down with the towel.
Ashley and Riley were some of your favorite friends and you were one of theirs. Riley told you the Tuesday before you died, that you were the best-est dog, his favorite- but asked you not to tell Tucker, his dog at his Mom’s house. Oh how Riley loved to rile you up. Ashley taking you on those walks. When you escaped from the front door being left open just enough to slip out, you immediately would take the corner and pee on the fire hydrant and every bush or landmark in sight. No problem though, we simply sent out the kid Calvary manning their bikes and they would find you in no time. You were hard to keep track of sometimes because as soon as that garage door or front door was opened, you had to go outside and check out who was the last to leave his mark. I think.
Our bond deepened and you were becoming an integral part of my life. Without Jamie home as he was at the fire station for his every other day, 24 hour shifts, you would comfort me and protect me, all the while sleeping in his spot. During the day, you helped fill the gap and filled many of our days with love and laughter as it was just the two of us until 9 months ago when my daughter Rhiannon came.
She would just giggle when you would growl, begging her to play with you. Just last week she grabbed your rope toy, and you two had a tug-o-war. Sometimes you let her win, sometimes you won. You played for awhile. I wanted to video tape it, now I never will have the chance.
You knew which days would be the days that Jamie would be coming home from the station and would wait for him at the door. Oh how you howled in excitement as you heard his truck pull up and the key unlocking the door. You would jump, lick and kiss for at least 10 minutes straight. You would bring out every toy you owned every day, to have us all pick them up and put them away several times a day.
Oh how I would give for you to be here now, playing with that dumb cup of yours or that half eaten football. I can‘t forget monkey-face and how you used to get so mad at him. Or the number of those squeaky balls that would drive me crazy, you loved to play ball and you were smart, you knew what “Go get your ball” meant. I would give anything to feel one of your slimy wet rawhide cigars stick to my hand right now.
I miss your licks and kisses. You had such an amazing personality, eyes that read my every emotion, your jumping on me as I crawled in bed and jumping off with that thump that could be heard in the hall. That jingle of your collar as you had your own way of going up the stairs as if you were always trying to beat me, but made that noise, music,
that I will never forget.
The way you waited by the sliding glass door in the bonus room while I fed Rhiannon. Or when you came to check on us, Rhiannon would hear your collar and put her hand out to have you kiss her. How you would cuddle at the end of the couch when I was in the living room.
Those will never be mine again but they stay in my heart and someday the memory of them will not be so painful. I will view them with joy again. For now this empty house is unbearable. No wagging tails waiting to greet me or yelps when the garage door is opening when I come home. These habits I haven’t been able to break. Listening for the thump as we got out of bed. Up and down the stairs in silence. Opening the door just a crack so you wouldn’t get out. Saving scraps to share with you. Whoever thought that throwing away leftover rice could fill you with such sadness? Seeing a bag on the floor out of the corner of my eye, and thinking it is you. The sinking feeling in your heart when you realize that it is not. The amazement at the human mind and its ability to see what it is desperate to see, even if it is only for a split second. Staring at the food and water bowls that you can’t seem to make yourself empty and put away. There is something comforting about looking at the little dent he left in his food the last time he ate.
Thank you Oreo for the love that you have given to this family. You were truly our one and only dog. You could never be replaced. Thank you for coming to me and telling me that you are okay. You are sorely missed and I ache for one more day with you. You are welcome in my dreams and to watch over us, letting us know you are always near.
I know you will be waiting to kiss and play when I meet you on the other side. I promise to play with you before bed like always, just wait.
Mommy
Always my puppy-wuppy,
| Oreo |
| Margo & Jamie |