An Extraordinary Impact

I've loved all my dogs.  They've all been special in their own ways, and I miss every one who's gone on to that great beyond.



However, every so often there comes along a dog who is so extraordinary, so special,  you still grieve her loss 10 years later.



Katie was just such a dog.




















I suspect that's a wound that will never completely heal.


















Run free, old girl.  We will never forget you.

Katie Belle

November 25, 1995 -- August 29, 2009

It's Beginning To Look

A lot like Christmas, all around the house.

I don't think I could ever be a professional decorator.  That's hard work, I'm telling ya.  I was going to put up my tree Saturday, only I got this far, and seriously considered going for a minimalist approach this year.

I love it when it's all decorated and pretty, but boy stringing all those lights are a pain in the patooty. 

After getting all the branches floofed, I took a break to put up my outside lights.  I'd bought a string of these larger lights on clearance a couple of years ago, but didn't use them last year.

I wanted to go with the LED lights on the outside of my house because they're so much brighter.  This string should have been long enough to cover the whole front of the house -- if I'd had an outlet at one end or the other.  As it is, my outlet is smack dab in the middle.

Not wanting to run 25 feet of extension cord, I just hung these lights across the porch and car port.  It was long enough that I could double back when I got to the far end, but not long enough to do the rest of the house.  I used another string of the smaller lights on that end.

They still didn't quite reach to the end of the house.  I briefly thought about taking them all back down and using the lights I'd put up last year.  Briefly.  They look OK once it gets dark, so they're staying just like they are.  I'll check out the clearance sales after Christmas and see if I can find something that will work better for next year.

That done, I came back inside and started stringing lights on the tree -- taking copious knitting breaks and watching the Longest Football Game I've Ever Seen.  Seriously.  Seven overtimes.  SEVEN.   It would have been better if the right team had won, but it was still an exciting game. 

I got so strung out, I had to rip the same round out of this hat twice.

I finally just put it away until after the game was over.  Which was nearly midnight.  But I was so close to being done, I went ahead and finished. 

The next day, I put a pompom on it.

I'd never been able to make a good pompom, but I watched some YouTube videos and decided to give some of those techniques a try.  The one video I referenced uses toilet paper tubes to wrap the yarn around, then she cuts circles out of cardboard.  She kind of sandwiches her pompom between the circles and trims around it.  It's really easy.  Maybe in a future post, I'll find the video and link it.  Right now, I'm trying to get this one written so I can go to bed.

OK, so where was I?  Oh, yeah, Christmas tree.  It's finished! 

I had a bit of a melancholy moment when I put my tree skirt down.  I hadn't been able to use it in ages, because the cat always peed on it.

I can't quite decide if I'm glad I'm able to use it again or not.  I'd kind of rather have my kitty back.  Then I had another melancholy moment when I hung Katie's ornament on the tree.  Nine years she's been gone, and I still miss her.  And I still hang her little stocking on the tree.  Every year.

One last thing before I go getting too maudlin..

I bought a new Christmas Cactus, like I needed another one.

But it's red.  And I don't have a red one.

That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

Seven Years

Seven years ago today, we had to say goodbye to the best dog ever.  I'm not sure why, but it's hitting me very hard this year.  I hope you will forgive my little bit of melancholy as I republish in its entirety the tribute I wrote to our Katie that day.  

Goodbye Old Girl 

When you bring a puppy into your home, you know that dogs don't live as long as humans. Somewhere in the back of your mind,  you know that one day you'll have to face losing that puppy.

But you don't have to think about that yet.  That's a long way away.  Right now she's just a cute little puppy, with soft little puppy fur and sharp little puppy teeth.  She'll make a good companion for your little diaper wearing, pappy sucking baby.

Time goes by. The boy grows up.  The puppy becomes a dog.

She's a part of the family.  She's always there for you.

At Christmas.

At Easter.

Camping in the living room, with her own backpack.

The first day of school.

The first day of Cub Scouts.

And Little League.

The first day of the last year of junior high.

She's there to comfort when you're sick,

or any time a sleeping boy just needs a little extra security.


It seems you barely turn around and before you know it, that diaper wearing baby is in high school and your dog is no longer that bouncing little puppy she once was.  You know she's getting older, but you try not to think about it.

Then one day it hits you.  She can't see.  She can't hear.  The black patch on her eye that you nearly named her for has faded to almost completely white.  She has trouble getting up and down the front steps. That's when you realize, your dog is old.

That long way away suddenly got a whole lot closer.

You know that the decision is coming, but still you try to put it off.  She may be ready, but you aren't. You do what you can to keep her happy and healthy, but time still stalks the old girl.

Relentless.

Unyielding.

Then one day, you wake up and you know.


It may be that look of patient suffering in your dog's eyes.

It may be the sounds of pain she makes when she lays down,

or the scream when you try to help her up the steps.

Whatever the reason, you know.


It's time.


An agonizing trip to the animal clinic.    A shaking hand signs the paper.  The doctor that  gave her her first puppy shots now gives her one last injection.  And she drifts away, peacefully and without pain.  She's gone.

An "I'm so sorry" and a hug in the parking lot from the vet, and you take your faithful companion home for the last time. You ask your boy if he wants to pick out a spot for her, and he says, "I want to do this myself".  And your boy --no this man your pappy sucking boy has somehow become-- buries his dog out by the back fence, near the cow pasture she loved so much.

A bouquet of plastic flowers.


A too quiet house.   A big, gaping hole in your heart.

And it's over.


Goodbye old girl.    You really were the best dog ever.





Epilogue:  October 3, 2009


When you bring a puppy into your home, you know that dogs don't live as long as humans.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know that one day you'll have to face losing that puppy.

But you don't have to think about that yet.  That's a long way away.

Right now, he's just a cute little puppy with soft little puppy fur, and sharp little puppy teeth.

He'll make a good companion for your guitar playing, soon to be driving, teenage son.

A Year

It's been a year since we said goodbye to you.  A year today, and there's not a day gone by that I didn't think of you.  And my heart still aches.

In my crazy, chaotic, dysfunctional world, you were always there for me.  You were my one constant.  You were the one thing I knew I could depend on.  It hurt so much to say goodbye, but it hurt even more to watch you suffer.


I remember the day as if it were yesterday.  I'd walked out to the mailbox, and you followed, just like you always do.  Only this time, you didn't make it.  You couldn't even make it halfway across the yard, you were so weak.  Then, when I picked you up to help you up the stairs, you screamed and then you bit me.  That's when I knew.

You had never bitten anyone in your life.  Especially not me.  And I'd done all sorts of things to you.  I'd poked your eyes, and your ears.  I'd doctored cuts.  I'd pulled thorns out of your feet.  I'd pulled a fish hook out of your ear.  I'd even accidentally ripped an incision open trying put you into the car to take you back to the vet.  You flinched.  You whimpered.  You even yelped.  But you never bit.

I knew then that if you'd lost so much of yourself that you would bite me, you weren't my sweet Katie any more.  I knew then that it was time to let you go.


Now, a year has passed, and my hurt is still raw.  My wound is still as fresh as it was that day--the first day in my life I wept so hard I couldn't breathe.

The grass has nearly covered your resting place.  Soon, no one will even remember where we laid you.  But I will.  I will always remember where you lie.  I will always remember you.  Your spirit will forever run with me.

Run well, my friend. 

Run well.

.

Busy Day

Busy, busy, busy, getting ready for tomorrow. I baked a pie:

Then I baked two more. One pumpkin pie, and two sweet potato pies. And I baked my sweet potato and broccoli casseroles. All I have to do tomorrow is the turkey. The plant gave us a 20 lb turkey this year. The thing is huge! I had to borrow a roasting pan from B, because none of mine were big enough to fit it.

I finally unpinned the kernel scarf.

I am going to give this one to my sister. I got all my sister's family's presents wrapped and packed up to send to them. I couldn't have done it without Squeaky's help.


I thought I was being very clever because I used clothes that Cody's outgrown as packing in the box. Anyway, I drove all the way into town, only to find that the post office had closed at noon. I should have known. I did the exact same thing last year.

Cody gave Jake a bath.

I was supposed to crop Cody out of this photo, but I didn't. Mothers are like that, you know. Jake says, "I don't like this thing called 'bath'."

Rylea says, "Don't even think about it."


Today is Katie's birthday. She would have been 14 years old today. She's been on my mind all day today. I still miss her. She drove me to distraction at times, but she really was the best dog ever.

Happy birthday, Katie. Thirteen years just wasn't enough.

.

Music Monday

It's been a month since we lost Katie, and I still miss her as much as ever. I half expect to turn around and see her laying behind my chair, like she used to, or to follow me out to the mail box, like she did every single day for the last 13 years.

I know she's gone, but I can still feel her there. Just as close as she always was. As close as skin.

Whiskers On Wednesday

Squeaky says, "I miss Katie, too."

Goodbye Old Girl

When you bring a puppy into your home, you know that dogs don't live as long as humans. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know that one day you'll have to face losing that puppy.

But you don't have to think about that yet. That's a long way away. Right now she's just a cute little puppy, with soft little puppy fur and sharp little puppy teeth. She'll make a good companion for your little diaper wearing, pappy sucking baby.

Time goes by. The boy grows up. The puppy becomes a dog.

She's a part of the family. She's always there for you.

At Christmas.

At Easter.

Camping in the living room, with her own backpack.

The first day of school.

The first day of Cub Scouts.

And Little League.

The first day of the last year of junior high.

She's there to comfort when you're sick,

or any time a sleeping boy just needs a little extra security.

It seems you barely turn around and before you know it, that diaper wearing baby is in high school and your dog is no longer that bouncing little puppy she once was. You know she's getting older, but you try not to think about it.

Then one day it hits you. She can't see. She can't hear. The black patch on her eye that you nearly named her for has faded to almost completely white. She has trouble getting up and down the front steps. That's when you realize, your dog is old.

That long way away suddenly got a whole lot closer.

You know that the decision is coming, but still you try to put it off. She may be ready, but you aren't. You do what you can to keep her happy and healthy, but time still stalks the old girl.

Relentless.

Unyielding.

Then one day, you wake up and you know.


It may be that look of patient suffering in your dog's eyes.

It may be the sounds of pain she makes when she lays down,

or the scream when you try to help her up the steps.

Whatever the reason, you know.


It's time.


An agonizing trip to the animal clinic. A shaking hand signs the paper. The doctor that gave her her first puppy shots now gives her one last injection. And she drifts away, peacefully and without pain. She's gone.

An "I'm so sorry" and a hug in the parking lot from the vet, and you take your faithful companion home for the last time. You ask your boy if he wants to pick out a spot for her, and he says, "I want to do this myself". And your boy --no this man your pappy sucking boy has somehow become-- buries his dog out by the back fence, near the cow pasture she loved so much.

A bouquet of plastic flowers.


A too quiet house. A big, gaping hole in your heart.

And it's over.


Goodbye old girl. You really were the best dog ever.