Love is a Four-Legged Word

Conversations with Blue

Almost 12 years ago, we started our journey with this young fellow named Blue. We welcomed him at the age of nine months with little information except that he was shy, calm and that he could yodel. We soon realized that he was much more than that. He had a weird ‘old fart’ mindset, was afraid of many things going on around him, could yodel AND bark, did not lick our faces or fingers, had a big blue spot on his tongue and absolutely hated mushrooms. We also found out really quickly that fetching ball was not his thing. His presence and his many quirks gave us pause, long enough to understand that he was in our home for a reason, and that was to make us better humans. Humans that could be sensitive to his needs and respect who he was, not of our expectations of what a dog should be. We realized that we had to follow his lead and not push him too much. And soon, we had our daily routine filled with dog-human conversations.

“Blue, mommy’s home!”

“Yes, we HAVE to go outside in the rain, you need to pee” – Woof

“What day is it, is it Friday?” – WWWWOOOFFF

“Blue, go check your bowl, Daddy put something in it!” – wOOF

“Blue, move you are taking all the space in the bed.” – SNORING

“Baby, you are getting chicken with your kibbles!”

“No, you can’t eat Turkey poo!” (&&?%?$&%)

“Would you prefer cucumbers or carrots, OK you can get both?” – WoOf

“Hi baby, made you some homemade cookies, do a dance!”

“Good boy, nice big poo you did, oh you stink!”

“Stop barking, I CAN SMELL THE SKUNK TOO, it’s OK, get back to sleep.”

“Back up, back up, back up some more, good boy, you are on the carpet!” – Silence

“Stay on the carpet, no get back on the carpet, Blue, go on the carpet!” – More silence

“How long am I supposed to rub your belly?” – Head falling backwards

“I just rubbed your belly for 20 minutes!” – Woof

“Blue, enough, barking will not work!” –WOOF-WOOF-WOOF

“Ok baby Blue, come here I will rub your belly some more.” – Head backwards

“Blue, time for a walk!” – Running

“Blue, stop licking yourself!” (&%?$%?%)

This went on for many years, with subtle changes along the way until time became the enemy.  We had to start thinking on how to say goodbye, and we did.  With a cracking heart, many tears and memories of our endless conversations, we let you go to your other life, one without us. We hope that every day is filled with walks, Turkey poop, and belly rubs.

Submitted by Dominique-Ann B.

I grew up surrounded by animals.  There was always a dog or two in our family, and often a cat.   I always had a furry companion to cuddle, pull into my games, to confide in and to cry on.  My friends might be fickle, but my animal friends were always reliable and steady.

During the early years of our marriage, my husband and I were building our careers and our family.  We both wanted our kids to grow up with animals around them, but we had neither the time nor the space to care well for a pet.  We promised our children we’d get a dog when we had a bigger house and a yard for a dog to play in.  When we moved to another province and found ourselves with a house and yard, the kids reminded us of our promise.  We talked about what size of dog we should get, where we should get one from and whether it should be a boy or a girl.  We were a busy family and the kids were still little, so we decided a small boy dog might be the best bet.  The kids were elated.

A short while later while visiting a friend, I mentioned we were thinking of getting a dog and my friend told me that the people they’d bought their sweet little dog from had another litter now and there were two puppies left.   When I called, the owner said that she was coming into town and asked if I’d like her to bring the male puppy, “Just to meet him.  If he’s not what you’re looking for, no obligation.”  We agreed to meet at our house the following day.  She arrived just after our kids got off the bus from school (planned or coincidental?)  She placed a tiny bundle of cream and apricot-colored fur on the floor in our entryway, while the kids squealed with delight.  The puppy immediately toddled over to the mirrored doors on the entry closet, tail wagging furiously and began licking his reflection in the mirror.  We were smitten.  We named him Joey, and there was no question that he was with us to stay.

Joey has been a beloved family member since that happy day over 15 years ago.  He has calmed temper tantrums and tears.  He’s flown in airplanes with us, slept in tents and traveled in kayaks and cars.  He’s the best-ever remedy for anyone sick with the flu or colds.  He’s gone wading in spring mud-puddles with the kids and tobogganing in the winter. He’s had sleepovers with a dozen giggling little girls, watched marathon sessions of Monopoly and beer pong, and slept in every bed in the house.  He is probably the most kissed and photographed dog that ever walked this earth.  Without fail, when we come home we see his little face pressed to the window at the front door, waiting for his people.  He greets us the same way every time, whether we’ve been away 5 minutes or 5 hours.  He skids his ears on the floor, back and forth, snorting gleefully and sneezing.  He periodically interrupts his “lawn-mowing” to jump up and lick our hands (or bare feet, if available).  For him, there is nothing more important, or exciting, than his family.  He’s certainly had his share of struggles.  He has had epilepsy since age 3 and has had to take medication twice daily, every day. He’s been sick with pancreatitis and liver disease.  He’s lost most of his hearing, has cataracts and arthritis.  But he meets every challenge patiently and without complaint.  He has opened the eyes of countless friends and family to what a dog can be in your life.

This April he stopped eating and became very ill.  Tests showed that he probably had an intestinal blockage and wouldn’t likely survive without surgical intervention. We met as a family and had a long and emotional discussion about our options and what was best for Joey.  We were faced with the difficult decision to either do an exploratory surgery to diagnose and possibly correct the blockage, or to say goodbye to him without doing surgery.  To put an elderly dog through a major surgery is not a decision we took lightly, but none of us could bear the thought of not trying.  We chose surgery.  When we brought him to the hospital that day we knew it might be the last time we saw him alive.  We hugged and kissed him, said our goodbyes, then sent him into the O.R.  And what a little trooper he proved to be!  He came through the surgery far better than expected, but the diagnosis was not good.  He had intestinal cancer, and without chemotherapy he probably wouldn’t live more than a few weeks.  After much discussion we decided that we would opt for a milder form of medical treatment.  We felt he’d been through enough already and if chemotherapy was going to make him miserable and not buy him significantly more time then it wasn’t a good option.  The recovery from surgery was hard on him but he gradually healed and began to eat again.  One day when our son’s girlfriend came for a visit, he launched into his lawn-mowing routine for her, licked her bare feet and we knew our Joey was back.

We’re three months out from surgery now and Joey is eating well, enjoying his walks and happily greeting everyone at the door again.  He needs help on the stairs sometimes and occasionally has accidents in the house.  But he’s back in his rightful place at the front door, nose pressed to the glass to wait for us and to make sure all is well in the neighborhood.  We know that every day with him is a gift, that each day could be his last, but we are more than grateful.  Faithful friends are hard to find, and he’s been the best of them.  He’s shown us for over 15 years what unconditional love looks like.  For our family, love is indeed a four-legged word:  Joey.

Submitted by Lynette S.

Tara has been our baby for twelve years next month.  She was born into a sad situation.

The owner/trainer of a German Shepherd kennel got gravely sick. Her husband hired someone to feed the puppies but when we bought Tara she had no human contact or training in her life. She was 4 1/2 months old.

The first few days in her new home she hid and ran from us. In time we became a family.

Perhaps she is a little spoiled. In stormy weather she choices to sleep on the floor beside Fred or I. Tara has a dog bed or a couch to sleep in. She also has some stuffed animal friends and enjoys tearing apart a rope. She doesn’t enjoy company. She hides all her toys and guards her food and her couch. She is a great watchdog and slow to trust people.

Tara is now wheat free but can still enjoy her Sunday treat of a fried egg.

Dogs are not pets they are family to Fred and I.

Submitted by Alida & Fred M.

Submitted by Cinner