Have you ever said “My dog ate my homework”? What about “My dog got a hold of some family history paperwork.”
Unfortunately, my dog did get some of my ancestry paperwork. Only he didn’t eat it.
It’s hard to believe that my poor innocent pup would come in and do anything to harm my stuff on purpose, but it happened. After shedding some tears, I now have the smelly task of going through and piecing together what is salvageable, and what isn’t. I think it’s time to kick my storage solution needs into high gear so this doesn’t happen again.
I cannot stress enough, find a safe place for family heirlooms and treasures or you may end up like me – stuck inside on a beautiful spring day with perhaps some important pieces lost forever and someone you love in the dog house.
I hate feeling like the really sad girl. The one to be pitied and that people don’t want to be around because I’m sad or feeling blue. But to lose my mother and now my dog within the course of 2 weeks is just heart wrenching.
This weekend, my husband and I made the decision that we were going to have a good time in spite of everything. We were in a new city that neither of us had ever been to and even though it rained nearly every minute of every day, we were still out there exploring and getting to know Halifax. We laughed a lot and got silly hats. We ended up with soaked clothing and umbrellas which ultimately led to wet suitcases. I had hoped that I’d be here telling you how great a city it was and how I’d love to go back.
Instead I’m here to say that my Dude is gone.
It’s like a kick to the gut.
A heartbreak that is felt daily, minute by minute because he was always there. He would get me up in the morning with a nose nudge to my arm. He would be the last thing I would pay attention to at night when we let him out. He was the first face I’d see when I got home from work and the last one as I left the house. He was my dog – always there for a cuddle and to pet. he would let me hug him any time I wanted and we knew where all his favourite scratch spots are.
I’m the first to admit that he did some things that were pretty bad over the few years that we had him. He would get into the garbage if left unattended, which forced us to move all the garbage into hidden locations. He would mess with our bedding when we were at work so we’d come home to find it in a ball. His hair would be found everywhere as he was always everywhere. He would be underfoot if you were in the kitchen or anywhere near the door. He peed a lot and destroyed our carpet and a part of our new laminate floor we put in to replace it. He would get worked up whenever James watched sports or if their was a thunderstorm and would get up in my face looking for comfort. We loved him like our own child even if he had an extreme dislike for any sort of horizontal blind and destroyed them all.
Even with all this he was my dog and I love him. He was the one we chose. The one we wanted out of all the dogs. He was a gangsta in his bandanas. He swore a lot when talking and called everyone bitches. He was part of the sitcom, “You, me and The Dude.” He was Mr. Haroo for a certain way he would howl. He would howl at the moon if you ever brought some spicy chicken wings in the house. He would make nests out of dirty close on the floor – preferring to sleep there than in his own bed. He was so loving and caring and his loss will be felt.
When we took a chance on an older dog we knew our time with him was limited. But we never knew our time would be this short and that we wouldn’t be there to say goodbye to him. We were his “parents” so to speak even though he had an old soul. He looked to us to take care of him and it hurts that we weren’t there when he moved on.
So I’d like to take this time to say “Dude, Chance, Kirby – whatever your name really was, it has been an absolute blessing to have you in my life. You infectious grin, love of play and walks, really were loved by many. You will be missed.”