#2A.1 of #16: The Dogs

I am panicking now, as reflected by the time between the previous post and this post. The decision of what posts to close this blog with weighs heavily. (I still have a lot to say-er, write and I'm still mad I put the "birth through the window" so early in the countdown.) So, I'm going to do something unplanned: I'm going to make the second-to-last post be three parts long: 2A, 2B and 2C. They will be mostly new posts but with old stuff thrown in. This is #2A.1: The Dogs. Freckles and Lucy. Rosita and Bandido will featured in 2A.2. Settle in and buckle up.

It took me 16 years and buying a house to convince the wife to let me get a dog. Sixteen years. Finally, one fine August afternoon, she agreed to go look at dogs. I remember it clearly: I was laying on the couch because it was too hot to be outside. Her words results in my chin dropping to the floor. I was in the car before she finished the sentence.

Enter Freckles Warrior Princess. 

I let the wife pick the dog, as she was the one being kind enough to let me have a dog. She wanted a Shih Tzu with an underbite. Go figure. She picked out what she thought was the "quiet" one. Cute, not as hyper as the other dogs, friendly enough. 

Turns out the damn dog had Girardi and wasn't feeling well, hence the calm demeanor. Surprise!

Honestly, we didn't know what the hell we were doing. After all, she had never had a dog and it had been since childhood that I had one. She really didn't like dogs. And, she was just about to start the school year--a terrible time to get a dog for an already stressed out teacher. We didn't know what to name her, so when a friend suggested Freckles, as related to the freckles on her nose, we agreed. Such a cute name.

Turns out the damn dog only had nose freckles for about a month and then they disappeared. Surprise!

I deemed her Freckles Warrior Princess to denote a ferocity that did not exist. Besides, such a regal name honored my favorite TV hero. Her start as a family member was a bit tentative. I almost squished her with the garage door. All that soft serve Giardia-fueled poop did nothing to enamor the wife. The whining from the crate hurt my little dog-loving heart. With medication, time, more solid poop and increased attention to safety from me, we fell into a rhythm of a happy little family.

Freckles was smart... and stubborn. She learned quickly how to potty outside, but that didn't mean she always chose to do so. In fact, there were times she would walk right in front of us, look us dead in the eye and squat, peeing on the carpet in a most purposeful fashion. Seeing as she was so smart and was being an ass about the whole potty-on-the-carpet thing, I hung a bell on the door frame so I could teach her how to ring the bell when she wanted to go outside. She learned quickly how to do this. It was almost amazing.

Turns out the damn dog only rang the bell when she wanted a treat. She wasn't dumb. Surprise!

In fact, she would walk over to the bell and WHACK it with her paw. If we didn't respond quickly enough, she would WHACK it again... and again... and again. There were a few times she whacked the bell right off the doorframe. So much for ringing the bell to go potty. 

Freckles was a Canine Good Citizen and a therapy dog. Well, until she wasn't. She did great in class and she did great during testing. She got her little therapy dog tag and I made her a little name tag and she was ready to start visiting people and hanging out at work.

Turns out the damn dog didn't like people, didn't want to sit on laps and wasn't gonna therapize anyone. Surprise!

After two years, I decided Freckles needed a friend. A co-worker brought a box of puppies to the office (OMG A BOX OF PUPPIES!!!!) and I picked out a feisty one. These shih-tzu/Maltese cuties were too little to take home yet and I still had to convince the wife that two dogs were better than one and I had to make sure Freckles was on board. I wrote a check as a deposit and braced to tell the wife. Of course, it was the start of the school year--again. We took Freckles over to the lady's house so the pups could meet each other. All the puppies were running around, with the one I picked being the wild thing of the bunch. Freckles seemed okay with the puppy, so I wrote the check and we took the puppy home.

Enter Lucy, Bark of Poteidaia. 

Since I technically named Freckles, the wife got to name puppy #2. She said she always wanted to name a pet Lucy, so Lucy it was. I added the rest of the name. Of course I did. 

Lucy was a LOT of fun. In fact, she was spunky beyond compare. Well, she was a lot of fun when we weren't trying to walk her on a leash. She would SCREAM like we were killing her. I'm sure the neighbors were amused. It took a lot of non-walks to get her to walk on a leash without screaming. It was quickly evident that Lucy was the complete opposite of Freckles, which was fine by us. Lucy LOVED Freckles. She would pounce on her, chase her, try to play with her. 

Turns out the damn dog didn't want a playmate. Surprise!

Freckles tolerated Lucy. Tolerated, nothing more. I swear Freckles would glare at us with a "you have GOT to be kidding me" look upon her smooshed little Shih Tzu face whenever Lucy would pounce on her. We lost big parent points with Freckles. In fact, Freckles stopped liking other dogs. She morphed into Cujo when other dogs would walk by. Whether she was trying to protect Lucy or she was afraid we were going to bring another dog home (hence, she warned other dogs to keep away), I do not know. 

Lucy was always in trouble. At least she didn't poop in the house. The wife and Freckles seemed less than entertained by me and Lucy, But, I know deep down inside they were both chuckling.

When Freckles was nine years old, she got deathly ill. I won't describe the scene. Let's just say lots of bodily fluids were involved. The vet couldn't figure out what was wrong. Many interventions, medications and I.V.s later, I knew I had to ask. I'm standing in the vet exam room, crying. I ask, "is it time?" And, the vet quietly answered, "no, it is not time." So, I had a talk with Freckles. I made her promise that she would live until age 16 if I spent money on her to help her live. Who needs furniture money for furniture? It was spent the furniture money--most happily--on Freckles. 

Yes, she kept her promise--no surprise. I told you she was loyal.

Lucy decided to spend our money in another way. A much more creative way. She had this sore on her face that just wouldn't heal. It was beneath her eye, kinda sorta on her snout/cheek. As it wasn't getting better, I took her to the vet. I tell the vet tech about the sore. She looks at Lucy, she looks at me, she looks at Lucy. I can tell immediately that she knows what is wrong. Uh oh! She gets the vet, who looks at me, looks at Lucy, looks at the vet tech. I am freaked out. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG?!!! The vet asks the vet tech, "do you know what that is?" and the vet tech answers, "yes, I do." The vet then asks me if I know what it is. EXCUSE ME--IF I KNEW WHAT IT WAS, I WOULDN'T BE THERE! I shake my head "no." 

"That's not a scratch. It's her tooth." the vet says.

Confused, I repeated, "it's her tooth."

"Yup. It's the root of one of her molars. It's poking out of her snout." 

Dear god, I felt like a REALLY, really bad mama. 

My dog has a tooth poking out of her snout and I didn't even know that was a thing. Surprise!

A lot of money and a little dental surgery solved the issue.... although nine other teeth basically fell out while they were removing the molar. Thankfully, I was not charged for the extractions because--well.... they weren't technically extracted. They fell out. Seems her habit of sleeping with a stuffed squeaky in her mouth was really bad for her teeth. So much for being a good mama at all. 

Although younger, Lucy was the first to depart. She made it easy for us. She let us know exactly when it was time. There were no questions or second guesses. For that, I am eternally grateful. Only two weeks from time of her cancer diagnosis, she let us know it was time. Talk about fast growing cancer. Poor Freckles. She was basically blind and deaf by the time Lucy was no more. Freckles would stand in the kitchen, staring, waiting for her pain-in-the-ass sister to show up once again. She'd let out a bark every once in awhile. I don't think Freckles ever got over it, although she'd deny she ever liked her sister. 

As for Freckles, she lived out her days eating treats, refusing to walk, getting eye drops four times a day and remaining loyal. She too made it easy. If we still had that bell on the door, she would've whacked it and said, "it's time." I thanked her giving me my money's worth. She was a dog of her word. She was an old soul who meant business. She was a one-eyed wonder. She was large and in charge. 

She was an amazing gift, worth the wait of sixteen dog-less years, in trade for sixteen dog-filled years. 

No need to get maudlin. Let's end with me saying I have a bazillion of stories about these two party pups. Maybe two bazillion. How Freckles ran away, how Lucy rolled in raccoon poop, how Freckles would lay down in the shade on walks, how Lucy kept the wife awake with all the slurping. I didn't hear it, so the wife would WHACK me and tell me to "MAKE HER STOP IT!" So much for any of us sleeping. 

The puppy shower they threw me at work...

The grossness of anal gland juice...

Lucy's fear of the rumble strips on the tollway...

Sitting on the lawn with the gaybors and their dogs, enjoying the cool summer evenings...

Fleas JUMPING off Lucy as we're getting to leave for our Civil Union Ceremony...

The sound of puking in the middle of the night...

Frantically looking for runaway Freckles, right as were to leave to see the wife's sister graduate from college, running around the neighborhood, screaming her name....

...all the while she's sitting at the front door. Surprise!