If you knew my Cub girl, you might understand why this story has stuck with me all day.Trakr lived 16 years and was a dog hero. A search and rescue expert. The last one to locate a 9/11 survivor.
Cub lived to be just barely 8, had epilepsy, hip dysplasia, and liver disease. (Not exactly a prime candidate for cloning.)
And I'm all about rescues and adoption. My dogs have all come home with me because they were in need. It could be argued that each one needed me, specifically. So, no creating new ones. Plenty of puppies arrive without anyone wanting them to. And plenty of those don't make it to a home like mine.
I've heard lots of people say that she'll always be that one dog, the one that makes all the others look mediocre. I'm sure even a clone of her would be mediocre. You don't clone a personality or a soul, after all. (And if you're reading this and thinking that dogs don't have souls, just keep your keyboard quiet and your cake-hole shut around these parts.)Last night we were being exceptionally good dogparents and brushing their teeth. "I should've done better," I said, referring at once to the state of Tuesday's molars, which hadn't been stained when she came to live here, and to Cub's, one of which had to be removed because she cracked it (the pre-surgery bloodwork for that procedure was our first clue about the liver problem -- the beginning of the end).
When The Alpha tells me I was the best dog-mommy anyone could've been for her, I do believe him. But I also still cry.
9 comments:
Will you understand if I say I'm reading this and not reading it at the same time? It's too close to home, but I want to say, you wouldn't want me to feel that way about Molly, would you? You were and are a wonderful dog-mama. (((you)))
Yes, I understand it, Songbird. And, thank you. (((SB)))
Oh, friend.
Best. Dog Mama. Ever.
(((you)))
You are the best dog-mama I've ever known.... And as with being a people-mama, sometimes all we can do will never feel like enough. But if we do all we can do, the best we can do it, we're doing what God wants us to do.
Do be do be do...
(((Dogblogger)))
I understand. You are the greatest dog-mama.
And dogs absolutely have souls.
If I were a dog, I would want to live at your house.
((((you)))
((((DogBlogger))))
You are an exceptional dog-mama. Just ask your kids.
I won't agree that Cub was the one special one, and none of the others will measure up, only because I've had two cats like that and can't imagine any dog sweeter than the WonderMutt. Except when he's destroying something like my garden. Ahem.
Anyway, you know that I weep with you over Cub (still...even now, a little) but I know that you love Angus and Tuesday so well because you and Cub loved one another so well. And I still shed the occasional tear over Otis and Chuckie and dread the day our little old fart of a dog moves on to Heaven. But there's no question he knows he's loved, and we do the best we can for him.
I don't brush his teeth, however, so you've got me beat. :)
Aw. I don't know anyone that cares for their puppies as much as you do. And especially Cub. She was so lucky to have you guys. Both of you. I can picture both of your faces beaming with pride over some silly thing she did. Many times. She didn't care if her teeth had stains.
It's funny, but in my experience, dogs and cats and hedgehogs pick up their behavior and loving nature from who their parents are. You can't have a very sweet and loving and wonderful dog without sweet and loving and wonderful dogparents--even dogs with a good temperament to start with will become frightened, anxious or aggressive with dogparents who aren't kind, even parttime. Cub is probably a good reflection of you.
Great to see you at AC!
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