Of Dogs and Men

Dogs and men. The ultimate friendship.

This week has been one of those weeks. You know the ones… where minutes drag on and on, and are gone before you know it.

Last week, our dog, Sophie, had a week like a dog usually does. Eating, sleeping, going outside… But then something happened. Sunday, she started not eating, drinking, or going outside. By Monday evening, we knew something was definitely wrong with her. This is a girl who runs, “talks,” and is cuddly and pushy for attention. She was none of these things.

We took her to the vet on Tuesday morning, and she could barely walk. My son helped her up the stairs, and she plopped down and waited for the vet to see her. They wanted to do x-rays, but being between monthly paydays, we couldn’t do it. So, the doc examined her and found her tummy to be hard. He took her outside, gave her an enema, and she finally went to the bathroom. She came back in, running, hopping around, just like the normal Sophie.

We were relieved.

When we got home, she ran straight to her water dish, drank for a long time, and made the rounds to the boys. And she took a much-needed nap. That afternoon, the use of her back legs was diminished again.

By Thursday, she lost all function in her back legs. And she’s trying really hard to be what we would consider to be “normal.” Personality-wise, she hasn’t lost anything, but bodily, she acts paralyzed in her hind quarters. And we have no clue what’s going on.

I was up almost all night with Sophie on Thursday, as I think she didn’t want to be alone. I felt so helpless! When I called the vet yesterday morning, I began sobbing and had to ask them to wait for just a minute… At least she is using the bathroom.

My husband can build anything, so he built her a doggie wheelchair, which is helping her get around. Poor thing.

 

Then, my great uncle passed away this morning. He was a farmer his whole life… well, after he returned from the war.

They lived on a property outside the town of Hope, Kansas. They had corn and cows and chickens. And dogs. They had a white Samoyed named Snowball whom I loved. She lived for what seemed like forever. When you turned into their long gravel drive, Snowball would see you and greet you at your car. She was dirty and beautiful… my favorite of all of those dogs.

One summer, while my mother was having back surgery, my sister, brother and I spent several weeks at Ted and Gego’s (as I nicknamed her). We loved walking down to the mailbox which must have been 2 miles from the house, helping with the garden, and getting the eggs. I even touched an electric fence by accident one time. That was quite a lesson!

When my dad was transferred to the Chicago area from Kansas in 1977, Ted and Gego agreed to let our dog, Snoopy, live with them on the farm. I was only 11 when I had to give him up, but I was so grateful they had him. When we moved back to Kansas in 1978, Snoopy left his “cushy” life at the farm and came back to town. I think he missed them.

Going to their house was like being free. You could hardly get a radio station, not even AM. There was hardly any noise for miles around, except from farm equipment, and the night showed off stars that couldn’t be seen from the city. I didn’t think about the snakes or other predators that lurked in the night. I only knew the corn was blowing in the wind, we’d have homemade bread for toast, and we were comfortable and loved.

They let us kids be kids. They weren’t concerned with messes because those could be cleaned up. One Christmas, they bought us (my sister, brother, me, and my cousins, Stacey and Shane) roller skates. Then, they turned us loose in their unfinished basement with the concrete floor. We skated ridiculously close to the hole in the floor for the sump pump, around the wood framing, and we went ‘round and ‘round. The dust was crazy! But our grandparents just laughed, and it became a memory etched into the fabric of this family.

Ted and Gego were like another set of grandparents to my sister, brother, and me. We have a relatively small family, and they loved us like that, too. My grandpa passed away at Christmas in 1984, and Grandma left us at Thanksgiving, 2000. My uncle died suddenly in January, 2010, and Gego in January, 2011. He was the last of our grandparents.

I know his passing will be especially difficult on his only son and his family. I think it will be hard on my mother, too, who has lost her brother and both of her parents. Having such a small family, one person passing has a profound effect on us all.

He leaves a great legacy and was loved dearly.