10 on the 10th: July!

When I was teaching, I would have already been in my classroom. I took lots of time getting it set up…OK…my bestie and I spent a lot of time goofing around and getting our classrooms! The Fourth of July seemed to signal the end of summer as far as we were concerned. I don’t think we ever started school in July back then. But, we did start a couple of years during the first week of August! Anyway, that is neither here nor there, right? We are truly in the dog days of summer. It’s hot, and it’s humid. In other words, it’s miserable unless you have your own pool! I thought it would be fun to talk dogs so here’s my tell all about dogs!

Without further ado…

I said it before, and I’ll say it again. I am a cat person. We had cats for most of my childhood until one day we didn’t. Mom bought an adorable cocker spaniel. We named him Rusty. Unfortunately, he got distemper before Mom could get him vaccinated. Unfortunately, Mom had to make that awful decision and break our hearts.

Next, Mom brought home a beautiful little puppy. I have no idea why she chose this breed over another cocker spaniel, but American Eskimo puppies are adorable. We had Mindy for many, many years. We taught her how to climb the ladder of the playground slide. Then, she would slide down the slide on her bottom! Mindy’s only fault was her white hair. She was a kind, gentle, and smart dog. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find any photos of her.

Before we got married, Nigel had an Irish Setter named Irene. He saw an ad in the paper for a home for her. She had been hit by a car and nursed back to health by a veterinary school student. She was gorgeous but loved to chew things. She chewed up Nigel’s baseball mitt, a couple of shoes, and the handle of his hammer. He still has the hammer. Unfortunately, she was shot in a field. Our neighbors found her and brought her home. To this day, I don’t know who shot her or why.

We went for several years without a dog. We had a bit of a scare when the kids were little. Mom had grown up with chow chows and knew how protective they were. She bought us Bowser. One of the distinctive things about a Chow is its purple tongue. Bowser was the sweetest dog…to us, my mom, and my brother…he didn’t like other adults for some reason.  When Nigel got home from work, he would actually get down on all fours and play head butting with Bowser.  Other times, the two would be snoring together in the recliner.  We were actually in the middle of building our house up north and had to rent a house. We couldn’t have a dog with us so Bowser lived with my mom and brother. Mom named him. Her Chow was named Buster, I think. No one, and I mean no one would mess with him unless we were nearby.  Our backyard was fenced in, but one night, Bowser got loose. The scent of skunk soon came wafting to our house. Let me just say tomato juice does not get rid of that stink. Shaving a dog does! I shaved that poor dog, and the look he gave me when I was done was one of pure gratitude. He was just the best of dogs. He loved to stay outside in the winter but wanted to be inside in the summer (unless he’d been shaved). We only shaved him twice because you have to worry about sunburn. And, gosh do they look strange because that ruff around their neck is a part of their makeup. I think I’d have another Chow.

We then went through another period of no animals. We also had a cat named Oscar when we had Bowser. They tolerated each other. It wasn’t until my oldest started dating his now wife that we met Sherlock, her parents’ Westie. We dogsat him for a weekend, and I was smitten! They are the smartest, wiliest, most stubborn, yet cutest dogs alive…and, they know it!  Max was our first Westie.  We got him when he was about six weeks old. His birthday was March 5, 2003.  Westie puppies look like little polar bears.  He was adorable from the get go and must have been really smart because I don’t remember a thing about house breaking him.  Max slept in his crate until I put him in bed with us once, and that was that.  A couple of years later, I told Nigel I thought Max needed a brother.  We went looking in the ads (mistake) and found a four-month-old puppy a few hours south of us.  We rode the Harley down to check him out.  That gave us an out if we didn’t want him.  We got to the farm, and there were all these golden doodles and this one little brown dog just having the time of their lives.  The little brown dude was Pete!  We soon realized something wasn’t kosher there.  I’m pretty sure the woman was a puppy mill person, and Pete needed rescued.  We came back the next day with the money and some towels to hold him in because he was R.A.N.K!  I don’t remember how many baths it took to get all the sand and dirt off of him.  He was probably the sweetest little guy in the world if your name was Marsha!  Soon, both dogs were sleeping in bed with us.  On Saturday mornings, Nigel would take them to town and get them a donut to split.  In March of 2012, Pete was having severe bowel problems.  The vet said they could do exploratory surgery, but we really needed to talk quality of life.  We made the painful decision to let him cross over the Rainbow Bridge.  I wish I had known that was going to happen and that I could have gone back and held him as he took his last breath.  In May of 2012, we almost lost Max to diabetes.  I had retired, and we went to London to celebrate.  When we came back, the boarder said Max kept wetting himself and it was sticky.  I googled that, got him to the vet who sent us to the emergency vet.  They admitted him with two caveats:  we had to pay half up front, and there was no guarantee he would live.  I went to visit him every day for the almost two weeks he was there.  Most days, he would just lean against me and sigh.  I would cry into his hair (Westies have hair not fur) and tell him how much I loved him and needed him.  Miraculously, he came home.  In the meantime, I learned how to give him insulin shots, measure his food, and watch him go blind.  Max was a determined dog.  When we moved to Brownsburg in 2015, he’d been diabetic for more than three years.  By then, he was completely blind, but you’d never know it.  The only things that tripped him up was if I moved the furniture and stepping off the deck.  He would put out a tentative paw before stepping down.  He still jumped up on the bed but needed help getting down.  The last year was awful.  He wouldn’t eat, and if he didn’t eat, he couldn’t have his insulin.  Nigel took him to his last appointment and held him as he took his last breath.  We have both Pete’s and Max’s ashes.  They will be mixed with ours, along with Jack’s when the time comes. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find any photos of Pete though I know we have them. My “boys” are the display on my car!

Jack is the last of our Westies. I have my doubts that he is a true Westie, though.  Max never weighed more than 16 pounds.  Jack tips the scales at 30 pounds and is considerably longer in the torso than the others.  In fact, when I take him to be groomed, there are usually other Westies there.  He looks like a giant compared to them.  If you’re thinking about a Westie (and you should), consider a rescue organization, be aware they are a high energy dog, but know they are also smart, loving, and just the absolute best! We got him in February of 2018. He was born on Christmas Day so his official (not AKC official though) name is Jack Skellington Banks. I love him to pieces, but he’s different from any dog I’ve ever had. He doesn’t really like his back scratched. He doesn’t circle his paws when you rub his belly. The goober eats toilet paper so I say he wipes from the inside out! We have to keep everything picked up and door closed because he will eat just about anything!

Granddogs…

I have two granddogs. Charlie is the oldest. I think his real name is Charleston Grey, but I could be wrong. He’s a big old grey lab who may look ferocious, but he’s just the biggest goofball ever. My oldest granddaughter took him for walks all around their old neighborhood. I think it was for exercise but also protection. I don’t think Charlie has a scary bone in his body, but nobody would know that. He’s really a good old boy!

Oliver is the latest addition to our dog family though he’s been a member for several years. He’s supposed to be a Yorkie, but I think there’s lot of Cairn Terrier in there. He lives with my oldest son and his family. Ollie is quite the character, but he’s also a cutie! He was a rescue and loves to go for rides with his dad.

Now, I’m up to my final dog. I already gave you a hint. If I were ever going to have another dog, it would be a black Chow Chow. I just love the breed. There’s a lot of maintenance because they have a double coat. Bowser was prone to hot spots…places where his undercoat was gone and a sore appeared. There’s also lots of training that would need to be done. I’m not sure I’m up to that! Actually, I know I’m not…I don’t want the agony of another dog (after Jack) crossing the Rainbow bridge.

Wrap it up, Marsha!

My history of dogs! Phew! I didn’t realize we’d had so many dogs. In fact, I left out a couple that adopted neighbors instead of us. It was just not meant to be us, I guess. So, can we talk? Are you a dog or a cat person? Do you prefer mutts or pure breeds? Please leave a comment or two, and we can talk. I promise to respond as soon as possible.

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