I loved my Amber-poodle

Letting you all know (because I suspect you’d want to know) – I’ve had to send my darling and brave Amber-girl to heaven. I’ll not distinguish between human and doggie heaven, partly because I’d like to end up in both.

She was a 17 years-old, still gorgeous, still noble … an insolent 12 pound, fluffy and curly-white bundle of dog. I believe she could have tamed lions, given the chance. In the 70’s, Helen Reddy would’ve been proud. Amber was a true feminist.

Aging: Most of us will end up in a place with which we are not familiar. That place is indistinct, confusing, frustrating, frightening … because we are unable to recognize it and process it due to our failing vision and hearing, thought processes, ability to move comfortably, and probably more that I can’t know at my tender age.

I finally realized Amber was THERE. Standing, swaying, and staring at the wall without a purpose is not dignified. Amber was, if anything, dignified – and defiant – during her life. The Vet agreed. We wanted to give her a Viking funeral.

We gave her what we could – a shot in the “arm” and a loving farewell.

Amber will remain a legend in my memory. She was … a true Princess.

HRH Princess Amber

The Slower Side of Life

Have I mentioned that Amber (the mini-poodle) is 17 years old? That’s 119 in People years. (Actually, I think the formula is different for smaller dogs ….) But she is O.L.D.

It takes Amber a LOT longer to do things than it takes a younger dog. It is something like the movement of a tectonic plate.

Waiting for Amber to walk through the door to or from the outside is one example. She ambles.

Here are some things a person could do while waiting for Amber to move:

• Have a full manicure including drying the top coat.
• Read a novella.
• Recite a Psalm from the Bible, including finding said Psalm.
• Prepare hard-boiled eggs.
• Take a shower including shaving the legs.
• Change the oil in your car.
• Write a novella.
• Watch paint dry.
• Migrate north (if you are a bird).
• Migrate south (same same).

I love my old lady-dog. She is genuine. Her behavior is trying (on the patience).

Tonight she stood and made barely audible whining sounds because she couldn’t reach Chloe’s dish of food, which she knows I don’t want her to have. I caved. I gave it to her. She’s a bitch but she’s my bitch. *sigh*

What’s that expression? “Older than God”? Here’s to being old. May you have a loving, caving person to care for you. Cheers!

A Dog Never Lies About Love

What can one say about a dog like Max?

• He was first and foremost utterly devoted to me. He jumped into my arms the first time we met. (He was 6 years-old then.) He never wavered. Ever.
• He was a tenacious protector of his home. You couldn’t stop the barking barking barking. Once he lost most of his hearing … well … he was still the protector. He just didn’t perceive the threats. Like the mail truck, the squirrels, the stray falling leaf …
• He ADORED his treats. He would get nearly apoplectic when treat time rolled around.
• He knew how to spit out the food he didn’t want a leave it all over the house.
• He knew where I was at every moment – followed me around the house. OR he preceded me, creating a potential fall accident.
• He was always moving – licking, pacing – unless he was sleeping.
• He snored.
• He would tuck his head up under my chin and press his little body up against mine. It was so affectionate and endearing.
• He was a breast man. He loved to sit in my lap and “brundage”. Snort snort.
• He was happy! Joyful!
• He was curious, inquisitive. How many times did he stand in a lap with his little head 2 inches from the face and stare into the eyes with this look of total curiosity. Those dark, sparkling eyes were beautiful.
• He was a spark, a bright light, a star.
• He was the moon to my earth. The earth to my sun.

I had him put down this afternoon. He had suddenly gotten old. He’d been terminally ill but maintained with medications. Then the cataracts surfaced and bloomed. He couldn’t handle not seeing well. He was confused and frustrated. It was his time.

The veterinarian, Kathy Murphy, and her staff were WONDERFUL. Very understanding and caring. Kathy snipped a lock of his hair for me. I loved his scent. Now I’ll have it when I need a dose.

He’ll live in my heart forever.

Rest in peace, Boy-o. 

Sit … No! Not you!

I haven’t posted anything for a while – not for lack of material, mind you but lack of time and/or energy. Here’s something you may think is cute.

After doggie dinner, doggies get chewy treats. It’s the other highlight of their day, the other being my arrival on scene after work. Treats are given in order – alpha (Amber), pest (Max), then well-behaved (Chloe). All must sit first and that is understood.

Amber will sit – eventually. The first issue is, she doesn’t do commands very well. Another issue is, she can’t really hear or see well anymore so it is POSSIBLE she didn’t hear the command. Uh-huh. Once she ever-so-slowly sits, I proffer the treat. She lunges for it with a mighty mini-poodle-snort. She snaps, she … misses. Comes up short. (Like I said, her vision is poor, especially depth perception.) So I have to maneuver the blasted treat between her jaws.

Once Amber is done, it’s down to Max and Chloe. Max is so excited he’s jumping and quivering and I suspect he doesn’t remember HOW to sit, nor can he hear the command. Chloe is so excited, she’ll do ANYTHING you tell her to do. Here’s what happened a couple of evenings ago:

Me to Max: Sit.

Max doesn’t sit.

Chloe quickly sits.

Me to Max: Sit!

Max doesn’t sit.

Chloe’s bones hit the floor as she speedily lays down.

Me to Max: SIT!

Max doesn’t sit.

Chloe sits.

I turn to Chloe and say: Sweetheart, I don’t mean you.

Then Max sits.

I give him the damn treat.

Me to Chloe: Sit.

She sits. She gets the treat. Fabulous!

The speed of lava

Amber is so old and crotchedy… “How old is she?” She’s so old, she moves at the speed of molten lava. See the picture below?

If you watch for a very long time, you WILL see movement.