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Thread: Dog prose

  1. #1
    Join Date
    Mar 2006

    Default Dog prose

    Not verse, but Dog sentiment.

    I miss my eighty pound mixed breed rescue dog we brought home from the shelter. Got him as a three month old pup and he stayed with us until he got cancer and passed eight years later in the vet's office, a surprise when it happened. I was almost as devastated as when my older brother Tom was suddenly gone after having a heart attack and rolling his car off the highway. After Tucker passed I couldn't take my usual morning walk anymore. It's now been two years (I think), and about this time of year. I am finally getting back to walking in the morning, alone.

    In the meantime, the grandkids across the street on the corner have gotten a gorgeous pure-bred golden retriever girl. She looks like a sister to Tom's new golden. She's now about six months.

    Just like with their previous dog, Grammy has taken it on us, to go to their house every day after they've gone to school and their mom has gone to work, by arrangement, to bring the dog over here, so it won't be alone in it's wire 'crate' all day. Which is fine except the dog is now full size, full to the brim of puppy energy, and not trained yet at all. She appears to be happily willful and will come on command unless she doesn't want to. She will visit all the wastebaskets in the house and take paperwork off D's desk and bring any sort of thing she finds into the living room to chew on it. No serious losses yet. She has dug several deep holes in the backyard where the landscaping isn't quite finished and it's bare ground. I have had to repair her digging site in order to resume my paver project several times, and I have had it up to here, goddammit.

    We also still have Coco, the little beige, dirty white, poodle that we rescued from neglectful neighbors when they were evicted, a dozen years ago, at least. We had her for about a year, fostering her, when a neighbor friend of my Wife's mentioned her mom needed a lapdog companion. So Coco got forever homed, and then the neighbor's mom passed, and we got Coco back again. Coco is not my favorite dog. She snapped and bit me some years ago and I hold a grudge. I feed her twice a day, I do the scooping most days, and D does everything else for her care. At night watching the tube after dinner, She lets Coco up on her lap and sort of absently clips her tangled mat of fur with a pair of small scissors. A while back D took her to a pro groomer, who clipped her almost bare, left her ears big and fluffly and a little knob of fluff at the end of her tail, and now she looks like a cartoon dog. Her coat is gradually coming back. Coco has a chronic cough. She has been to the vet regularly and whenever D thinks there might be a problem. She is in no way neglected and the doc has prescribed meds and the cough persists. She hacks a dozen times before she settles again, and of course it always seems to be right when there is some dialogue essential to the plot of whatever cop serial rapist serial murderer action comedy we have on at the time. Coco has persisted and seems to be fine but for the cough. D takes her on walks several times a week, and she is frisky as a pup when I fix her bowl of breakfast or dinner kibble. I hate to say it, but I am going to be okay when she passes, if she does before I do.

    A week after Tucker passed, we had to put down the elderly flat-coated retreiver that had originally belonged to the grandkids. She had been with us at least as long as Tucker. A week after that Coco looked like she was next, but pulled through and is still the same. And now, this very morning, D has told me that she wants to adopt another shelter dog. She's looking at them online. That's how we came home with Tucker. I had already gotten to the point where I don't want to go through all the usual integrating of a new dog in the house. Yet another poop to scoop, another dish to do the kibble twice a day, and someone else to need a walk and to keep from digging and chewing, and I don't really want to fall in dog love again, because the pain of losing one is still too close in my memory. But She wants one so we'll get one. It's only a matter of time now. She's prolly already got a name picked out. This is Maeve.

    At least we dodged the 'barks all day and at anything that moves or comes to the door' bullet. Neither Coco nor the new girl are barkers. So there's that.

  2. #2
    Join Date
    Dec 2003

    Default Re: Dog prose

    When our dog died, I kept up my daily walks in the woods. Now, in the local forest preserve, I have many dog friends that I see every day. I nod hello to the owners, but I greet the dogs by name.

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