We had two dogs. They were brother and sister. They were called Cappuccino, the girl dog and Espresso the boy dog. We called them the puppies most of the time. Or we called them the brown dog and the fat white girl. The problem is they stopped being puppies about 8 years ago, by chronological standards. They started to age. They got old, but were still very puppiesque. They were still young at heart, as trite as it seems. Good old ‘Cino and ‘Spresso.
We never would have had the two dogs if not for my sister-in law. She had a couple pups left from a litter from her dogs. We went by to take a look. We had to take both of the pups. No sense in separating a perfect pair. They were the puppies. The day we brought them home, changed our lives forever. Doorbells, knocks at the door, loud mufflers, and butterfly farts would ellicit a flurry of barking and calamity of biblical porportions. Did I mention they casued a ruckus?
They had unique personalities. The brown dog should really have been called Eeuyore. His personality was oh-woe-is-me. If he were any more relaxed, he would cease to exist. Except if you were on the floor, and then he would want to browndog body meld with you. He would lay his head and neck across yours and whine. Weird. He also liked to lie down on his back and expose his junk. Well, he is a guy dog. And men are just dogs anyway. He never seemed to bark unless 'Cino started it.
The white dog should have been called princess. She thought she was the ruler of the family and the alpha dog in the den. She was large and in charge. She barked at everything, including butterfly farts, which by the way are not very loud. There is some question if they even exist at all. The problem is there can only be one alpha dog. And that ladies and gents is me. She never really liked the relegation to lesser dog status. But she could not take me in a fight so guess what? She was not the alpha.
A few weeks back the white dog was very lethargic. Not like her. The brown dog was lethargic. That’s nothing new. We took her to the vet. The news was not good; it looked like she had cancer. We did not run a bunch of tests, or try to figure if out, but the vet said it was not a good thing and she was not long for this world. We medicated her to make her more comfortable. We knew we were just buying time. The day came far too soon and we knew it was time.
I could bore you with the sorrows. I will try to be succinct. We gathered up the family, got in the family truckster and drove her off for her last ride. It was the hardest thing I have done in years. It was the saddest day in years. It had to be done. You never are ready to part with a member of the family. Good bye Cappuccino. She faded out and was gone. I will miss you!
It is very quiet around here now. There is rarely the sound of a barking dog. Except when brown dog actually hears the door bell on the television. Then he woofs. Just a couple barks, then on to something new like a different sleeping position. I am amazed that he hears anything at all, through his constant snoring, at least he is still with us. He's a good boy.
I saw Marley and me shortly after we put ‘Cino down. It may have been cathartic. I’m sure it was. Now we have one dog. The brown dog lives on. So does the white dog. She lives in our hearts, minds and in the tin in the little gift bag in the basement fireplace mantel. At least I don’t have a few cats and a gerbil, in gift bags, on the mantel as well.
Just another day in paradise
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