Goodbye Old Friend

When I was 16 years old I brought home a puppy. My mom was not thrilled with the idea and told me to find him a new home while she and my dad went to the mall for dinner. I found him a home while they were out, but my Dad worked his magic on my mom and I got to go retrieve him back from the friend who said they would take him and keep him. I named him Otis, but he was never called that. His real name was Puppy.

You see, Puppy, was half Jack Russell terrier and half Poodle. He was a mixture of hyperactivity and intelligence. He would drive you completely insane with his energy level, but was smart enough to know exactly what he was doing. He would growl when you said the word "bath", he would look out the window if you said "squirrel", he loved tennis balls like they were some form of dog class A narcotics, and he could run like a gazelle. He was an awesome dog.

When I left home, it was decided that he was too used to being in my mother's house and that he should just stay with her. I don't think the military life would have suited him at all. He would still be my dog, but my mom would have custody. I always loved coming back to my parents house, sitting down on the sofa and having to restrain my Puppy from licking me to death because he was so excited to see me.

This past year he was diagnosed with congestive heart failure. It was kept in check with medicines and he continued for the most part to be his happy, bouncy, sometimes crotchety old self. I saw him over the summer and had made a few more memories with him.

Yesterday my mother called and said that Puppy was not doing well and was going to be taken to the vet. She didn't have much hope that he would recover and had a feeling that she would probably have to put him to sleep in order to prevent him from suffering. The vet however suggested a change to his medicines and said he was resting comfortably and that she could pick him back up around 5:30pm. About 15 minutes before she was due to pick him up from the vet's office, his little heart gave out on him.

I am sad of course, but I know that he did not suffer. He lived 14 wonderful years. He had a great home. He had a family that loved him. He was one lucky dog.

Rest well you little hellion. We're going to miss you.

RTT- 6 Weeks and Counting

It's Tuesday Morning. Now lets see if I can knock these cobwebs out of my brain, try to form coherent sentences and get some of these thoughts of mine out of my head and out onto the Internet. You know, cause the Internet needs a bit more crazy. You can head over to Keely's place grab the button and play along if you like.

If yesterday was any indication of how the next six weeks of the summer holidays are gonna go, I want a raincheck. LaLa refused to listen to me, wouldn't clean up after herself, threw a tantrum at dinner time, and was generally a whining terror. She ended up getting her TV and V-smile (educational video game system) confiscated by The Man. Now, if that isn't a crap start to the next six weeks, I don't know what is.

My 10 year high school reunion was this past weekend. I obviously didn't get to go, but after some of the Facebook messages I saw, I am kind of glad I didn't. Apparently some people had a good time, but then I saw one message that reminded me why I hated HS. There were a couple of the "popular" boys who were talking about the absence of the "school nerd" and then they were laughing about how they "didn't get a chance to steal his backpack" Ugh, good riddance. Some people never grow up.

However, due to the group started on Facebook to gather everyone for the reunion I did get back into contact with a few good friends from HS. It would have been nice to have seen them, but most of them didn't attend the reunion either.

Once again it is raining in England (surprise, surprise), so I am going to have to figure out something to do with the girls today. Any ideas? Maybe building a fort?

I gave Elizabeth a bath yesterday, now she smells like roses, not like a rubbish bin. Thank goodness for scented doggy shampoo.

Speaking of Elizabeast, I tapped the Dog Whisperer last night so that I can video her going batshit crazy and attacking the TV. She is gonna be an interwebz star.

OK, I know I have been a slacker lately when it comes to commenting on other blogs, but I promise I am going to try to do better. I might get to it later at night, so if my comments are a little, ummm, incoherent (heh, I used that word twice in one post), then just take into account that by 8pm my brain is fried and I am usually sitting here watching House, Bones, CSI, or Sex and the City; not blogging in the evenings. Take pity on me.

Alright I think that is enough of my drivel for now. Now get the button and play along yourself. It is cathartic.