Pets, like people, come into our lives for various
reasons. Some stay a short time. Some stay for many years. They affect us in different ways. Teach us different lessons. Make us worry. Make us laugh. Make us mad.
Ten years ago a tiny puppy came into our lives. Technically, he was my birthday present,
though he arrived two months after the fact.
I didn’t want a dog. We had just
lost one a week before my birthday and I wasn’t ready to take on another. But when I got the call at work that my
present had arrived, I went home and fell instantly in love with a Miniature
Long-haired Silver-dappled Dachshund, whom we named Simon.
Simon was a happy little thing. While he had a lot of dachshund traits, he
was less aggressive and more gentle than typical dachsies. He had a funny little spot on one eye and a
bent tail where his mother bit him right after he was born. Quickly he became our loyal and loveable
Little One, who also answered to Skooby, Skooby-Dooby, and Pig Dog, which was
an affectionate reference to his seemingly endless appetite. His one fault – besides being
characteristically difficult to house train – was that his endless appetite was
punctuated by food aggression. But we
adapted!
Simon was a kisser!
Given half a chance, he’d lick your face off. Like many small dogs, he had no idea that he
was a small dog. He wasn’t particularly
brave and he didn’t really like strangers, but when he got to know someone he
welcomed them into his pack unconditionally.
He loved to chase balls.
And sticks. He would pack his
stuffies around and often would fall asleep with one in his mouth. He was easily entertained, too. All you had to do was step on a toy so he
could pull it away from you. Once it was
free, he’d drop it back at your feet so you could step on it again.
He loved to go for rides.
No opportunity to go with us in the car or truck was ever refused. Long ride or short, he was always up for a
rolling cuddle. He was an excellent
mouser, too. Working alone or in tandem
with his old pal Neiko, no rodent was safe once spotted. Simon, true to his breed, was a relentless
hunter.
Groomers were the bane of his existence and with two of them
in the family he was never safe from the “noose” or the clippers come spring
time when we had his long coat shaved off.
His fine hair was a magnet for burrs and we were not fond of having to
pick them out of his fur. He quickly
came to recognize grooming cloths and when my daughters (the groomers) arrived
in nylon pants, he would cower and shy away from them in hopes of a
reprieve. They always won!
When we entered the bathroom, he would follow to the
door. If we asked him if he wanted to
have a shower, he beat a speedy retreat, suddenly having something better to do
than hang out with us.
He had the requisite repertoire of tricks for one of our
family dogs: sit, lay, sit pretty, play
dead, speak, sing, crawl and roll over – preferably for a treat! Stay was a bit more than he was willing to
concede to, though. That one just never
really took.
Last weekend Simon was playing with some other dogs at a
friend’s home. We don’t know what
happened (no one saw it), but somehow he got badly hurt. When Dave called him to take him home, he was
laying in the grass in the shade of a tree.
Eager to please, he tried to follow, but his legs were not working and
after a few steps he collapsed, unable to walk at all.
The next day I accompanied Dave to Smithers to the vet to
have Simon checked out. It was
determined that he had experienced some trauma to his neck and the options were
few: a) steroid anti-inflammatories; b)
referral to a specialist for surgery; c) euthanasia. For Dave, the latter was not an option at
all. The nearest specialist is in
Vancouver and getting Simon down there was difficult, limited to a Friday. We chose the anti-inflammatory route and left
him at the clinic with high hopes that the treatment would reduce any swelling
and he would be okay.
On Tuesday, we brought him home. Far from okay, he was still paralyzed and so
we began exploring option b. That didn't pan out either and so we were forced to accept option c. On Wednesday, as Dave held him in his hands,
Simon was gently put to sleep by a skilled and caring technician. It was one of the hardest things we have ever
had to do.
Through our tears of sorrow, we got him wrapped up in a
blanket and took him back to Dave’s father’s farm where he is now buried next
to Neiko in a beautiful spot next to the hay field.
They say “Don’t be sad that it’s over; be happy that it
happened.” I am so happy that Simon was
part of our lives. He was such a funny
little dog. Whenever I was sad or upset,
he would nudge my arm with his nose so I would lift it and let him snuggle on
my lap. He would look up at me with his
puppy-dog eyes as if trying to tell me that everything would be okay. There were times when he frustrated me and I
lost my patience with him, but I always forgave him – as he did me when I let
him down.
Our Little One! |
Dogs are such amazing people. They’re so loving and loyal and
forgiving. I haven’t been able to bring
myself to think about adopting another one since Neiko died last November. There is a part of me that wants to give
another dog a loving home. And then
there’s that part that just can’t bear the pain that goes with losing
them. At least not yet. Right now, I just hope that wherever Simon
is, there are lots of stuffies and squeakies and pig ears and treats for
him.
I miss you, Little One.
I’m so sorry we couldn’t do more for you. You were so loved and you have left a big
hole in all our hearts.
Oh, man, so awful to have to make the decision. Having done just that a few times before I'm shedding tears - with you and in remembrance. Just last week Grizz's sister had to say farewell to her dog, and with the other losses in the family right now, we're finding it difficult to understand why so much all at once. Take heart dear sis, we love you and keep you in our prayers. Simon has crossed the rainbow bridge. Love!
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