My sweet slut dawg, Rose
It was almost nine years ago, the last year my mom came to visit us and the
only Christmas that my youngest son and his wife and two children ever came that something wonderful happened. The time was a miracle as it was because of my grand daughters and mom and dad actually coming up for Christmas. We'd never had the pleasure as the DIL was adamant about HER family. But somehow we convinced her to come up once and we decided to blow it out as it felt as if it was to be the only time. How sad and true it turned out to be. My mom came up only because we went and got her, and this was about the time that had we known what to look for, she was exibiting the first signs of Alzheimers. But this was a wonderous moment for us and me. This was something I've always wanted as long as I've had children. To try and duplicate the gatherings of family on holiday's with the grown children and grand kids. My mom had a way of doing things that are funny and just like her. She'll slip you money. And whisper about it. Well she had slipped me $100 and told me not to say anything because she didn't "have enough for everyone" and that it was my Christmas money. Shortly after that, my son, Damon informed me that he wanted a puppy just like Breed, an awesome half breed Lab.Golden Retreiver we'd had in our family for 7 1/2 years that had stolen our hearts and made us realize we weren't just cat people. Breed was from high class parents. His mom was a full blooded, with papers Golden Retreiver, and his dad was a full blooded, with papers White Lab and he was this awesome half breed we named Breed. He looked like Ol' Yeller. After we lost Breed to a disease I was unaware of that required shots for every year (he died horribly of catching distemper, and yearly shots would have saved him) we tried a few times to replace him, but no dog ever proved worthy or of quality that he had. After Squire and I moved to eastern Tennessee, we were back to being cat people. And I had moved all our felines with us to White PIne and the rental farmhouse. We brought the old lady, Fwit and Roscoe and his sister, Sweetie who you all know passed this year at the ripe age of 20, and we had Lou, our deaf white cat, FuzzyButt a Norweigian Forest cat who was unbelievable. We also had Pie and her kittens, and when we lost Pie to the coyote, we kept Pye, her daughter and an orange tabby female we named after our daughter, Jennifer, or Jenners as we called her. She and Pye were the same age. When we got the house in Dandridge, and the year we had this incredible once in a lifetime gathering, I informed Damon that there would never be another dog like Breed. But I was willing to take him to the pound to see if there was a puppy there for him. We got up there, and the lady took us to the large room where the mother dogs and larger dogs were at, and in one bricko block pen, a small black Lab was sitting in the middle of the pen, surrounded by 14 month old puppies. All but one were pitch black. Some were fuzzy, most were short haired, and one,only one was golden like Breed. My son was floored. He picked out the little male and dubbed him Clyde and paid the $50 for the puppy and we went home. As soon as we came into the house (with his oldest girl clambering for the puppy) Squire saw it and started to cry, telling us that he still missed Breed..........Well I did too, and he said he wanted a dog too..........I grumbled that they cost $50, but there were 13 more at the pound and come on, we'd go see. So Squire and I load up in the truck and we went back to the pound, and the first puppy he picks out is a fluffy black male. "nope, no males this time. THIS time I want a female" I informed him. And about that time, a little black (they were ALL black) female comes over to him and sits on his foot. "How about this one? It's a female" And I agreed. Grudgenly. As we drove home, me holding the little ball of black puff, I asked what we'd name her. "I have a name in mind" Squire informs me. "She'll name herself." We get home and reunite the two siblings and they slept in a cat carrier together the rest of son and his wife and children's visit, and when they left, we were left with this little female who had instantly bonded with everyone. John looks at me and informs me that he's naming her Rose. "Rosie?" "No, Rose, she's a black Rose, she's very special" and so that became her name. Getting her at 4 weeks of age, and in the winter I dreaded the messes she would make, but resigned myself that this time I would train a dog properly. Breed was another story altogether and someday I'll tell you about his quirks that made him endearing and incredibly unique. When Rose had to go, I'd take her outside and let her poop in the flowerbeds, which were piled up with a rather high snow. I also took her down the driveway and we'd walk into the pasture and I'd tell her, "pasture, Rose" and when she'd go, I'd praise her and she seemed to be rather smart. In fact, she was smarter than I thought she was. Not knowing how to housebreak her, I decided to put her at night into the bathroom. She decided her place was between the comode and the wall, all tucked in tight. And when it thundered, she'd go hide in the bathroom, shoving herself into the narrow space trying to hide. Later when she'd get in trouble, she'd run to the bathroom and since she was too large to wedge herself into the space between the wall and comode, she'd get into the tub. It became her safe place. She still had her moments. But as a puppy, only made one mistake, and that was to chew up daddy's wallet one night which she never ever did again. Once was enough for Rose. To say this dog was smart was an understatement. I would make unusual answering machine messages before going out and she would watch me and start turning in circles all happy that I was going OUTSIDE and possibly for a drive. I had broken this dog in early. Taking her everywhere with me. She only got sick twice, and after those two times, she'd not eat or drink during a trip until she got where she was going. Rose would see me grab the keys and get excited and go to the front door and beg to go NOW! She learned to get wound up when I put on my coat, or hat. Where I could spell O U T S I D E to Breed and he knew what that word spelt, she knew the word outside...... When Rose went thru her teenage time of not minding, to get her to come, I'd rattle the keyring to get her to come. And once she appeared from wherever she was at, I'd have to give her a ride to reinforce the good behavior. Her love was to roll in the most stinking stuff she could find. Her first roll was cow placenta. In the pasture from the birth of one of Benton's calves. It was horrible, and she adored it. Or turkey poop. Or cow poop. For years, her favorite sneaky snack was cat poop until I humiliated her and she never touched or snatched it out of the box ever again. She'd get so excited about going that she'd scramble toenails on the floor to race outside to get to the truck. And when I opened up the door, she'd fly into the front, jump into the back and then pop back into the passenger seat to prop herself up on her elbow and gaze out the window all cool. She went to Colorado with me in our first little truck with oldest son cramping her from his being so large. She informed me that she was horribly afraid of water. Rain, water, bathing, anything that was wet. I never had given her bad experiences but wet was just not right for her, this black Lab. I figured she'd drowned in her other life. She'd tell me by grunting that she needed to go outside, but if it was raining, she look at me like "you're kidding me, right? You don't expect me to go out, do you in this wet???" There was the night she finally learned to ask to go outside. I had started bringing her into the bedroom with us instead of leaving her in the bathroom because she was still lonely. She'd cry. So since she didn't mess in the bedroom (and I discovered that Lab's and Retrievers don't mess up their sleeping area's) she could sleep with us in the bedroom. After Squire went to sleep, I slipped her into the bed with us, and that's how it started. Now Squire didn't allow dogs to sleep in the bed with him. Cats barely made it as it was, despite all the years together. Cats knew to sleep on or around me, not on or near him. Sometime during one night after many many nights of me or son getting up to take the puppy outside, with Squire snoring, oblivious to it all, I'd had enough. "Next time she whines to go out, I'm not getting up, let him take her out" Sure enough, Rose had already mastered two distinct vocals concerning outside. She'd grunt if she needed to pee, and make an "aww aww aww grunt" sound when she had to poop. I heard her making her poop sound and ignored her. I could hear her toes walking back and forth on the carpet under the waterbed, and as I laid there, I hoped that John would wake up and take her out. He heard her and did what he always did, poked me and said "the dog needs to go out" and I lay there as if I was dead. The dog continued only more desperate. So I hear the usual "Sh!!!! and he gets up and pads across the floor, opens the door of the bedroom and goes into the bathroom to relieve himself first. Rose had to go badly. And she went in front of the bathroom where he stepped into it. It was water this time. But the next time she did this, he had taken her out of the bed, telling me that dogs didn't sleep with us. Sometime during the morning hours, she started her "I gotta poop" sound and once again, he tried to get me to get up and take her out and I played dead. But this was different. Last time she had peed in front of the door, so he gets up and opens the door and I hear the front door open and then "Rose??? Where are you? ROSE???" silence.......footsteps............."why you sunnufabitch you! YOU LIED TO ME!!!!!!!!" I had actually slipped back to sleep and woke to his incredulous voice as he accused her of lying to him. Because there was Rose in bed with me, she'd lied to him. Told him she had to poop, NOW and when he opened the door and gone to let her out the livingroom door, she saw her chance and jumped into the bed with me all on her own. Lying there all innocent. After that, she had to need to go before he'd take her out. Fool him once........... She went with me to Ovieda, Florida when I met up with Squire and the sweetest little gardener friend........Zhanataya. I wound up sleeping at her house for 5 days and visiting her and Rose acted like she owned the place. The first night when Zhan informed me we were sleep overing together in the kingsize bed, Rose promptly jumped into the middle of the bed and slept between us like she was something special. That was the trip we discovered her hatred and lothing of water. I coaxed her to the pool and plopped her in, and despite that she swam to the shallow end, she was NOT amused and for the rest of the visit, it was skirt the edge of her pool very very carefully so as not to be plunked into that water again. And she humiliated me. We went to sight see and left her in the house, since she was a really good dog, and because she didn't eat on trips, I'd brought her dry food and a can of Alpo with me and given it to her for a treat. She was packed tight and couldn't get out and went into Zhan's beautiful Southwestern livingroom and left a huge gift..........I was mortified. Here I was visiting someone for the first time I'd written to on the newsgroup and my dog had shat in her livingroom! Rose discovered she loved children when we went to Colorado to visit my best friend, Dian and her kids and husband. We've been friends since 1978 and I discovered after all this time something I never knew. Dian's husband, Greg was allergic to dogs. Very badly. He swelled up. And her youngest daughter, Claire was violently afraid of dogs due to the mean ones they often encountered when going to the park and on outings and she was deathly afraid of Rose. Rose was mortified. Here were something she liked. children. And she couldn't enjoy them. She sulked the whole visit in the yard, on Dian's deck, and only left to ride with me and to leave presents in Dian's pea patch. At least Dian's boys played with her, and she'd gaze at us thru the screen into the kitchen begging to come inside and lie under the table. Already she had established habits and ways that were her own. And to lie under the table quietly and not beg was one of her ways. Almost seven years ago, a woman came up the driveway asking if I had lost a kitten. Inside was a little tiny black male. And thinking Rose needed a buddy, I told her I'd take him. He became Rose's kitty, Pesters. And how they loved each other. Rose didn't play. At 2 1/2 she was finally out of her springs stage and a little lazy because I didn't run with her a lot, but Pest took to her and knew she was his. Rose would grumble and growl at him when he messed with her and I knew that even though she acted like she didn't like his aggrivating ways, he was her little buddy. It wasn't long despite that this was an aggrivating kitten, that they were buds. Pesters would play git the dawgs tail, and Rose would grumble and growl and bite him on his butt while Pesters would attack this huge thing like she wasn't outweighing him by 85 pounds. Thru the years, Rose and I had a lot of adventures. And often she'd pop up in my writings about Fairy Holler. She discovered when she was middle aged with our oldest grand child, Ava that she could swim if she had to. We took her with us of course to Grand Haven, Michigan and we lived in the lake the whole time. Rose adored the sands on the beach, and running and playing with Ava. But when we got into the warm, shallow lake by the shore, she stressed. We went deeper to waist high and played with Ava on the float and Rose ran up and down the edge yodeling and crying that she couldn't stand this. She'd jump into the waves and back out and yodel more. Then we started calling her and telling her to come on if you are coming. and all of a sudden she jumped in and swam to us. Crying the whole time. She made it to us and then turned around and went back to the beach and it was impossible to stay in the water after that because she couldn't stand being away from her child. That night she and her kid slept like logs. Rose totally wore out, Ava a lobster red, red haired fairy child whose sunscreen hadn't worked, and Rose as tight up against her child as she could get, twitching all happy with her pack. Anyone Rose met, she remembered. Even years later even if it were a one time encounter. Rose looked bad, but she'd lick you to death. But I had begun to have a different respect for her when once a man totally captivated by her sweet face, reached in the window to pet her and she nipped him. This was her truck and Mama hadn't introduced him to her and this blew me away. Maybe Rose had protective instincts afterall.........I sometimes doubted it. I could go "wuss!!" and she'd get all protective and guard dog and she'd make people smile in cars near us at lights. And she made friends of some young kids when we were stuck in traffic last week in the Bonneroo siege when she smiled at some young men in a truck and out of mischieviousness and kindness for our heat and discomfort, they squirted us with their water blasters. Rose loved it. My eyes are tearing up as I write this. There were almost nine years of awesome times with this special dog. This friend to me. She was here at a time when I was dying from lack of anyone close to visit or be with. When John was away for weeks on end with his job with the project, she learned her place was in the bed with me, and later would grunt her displeasure when he came home, because he was taking HER spot. Only after he got up and she jumped into the bed to be with me again was she happy. And one day, when his son and wife brought their first baby down for us to meet and visit with, Rose quietly slipped into the bedroom and got up in the bed with him, and I have the picture. Her face as if she's saying "shhhh, I'm lying very very still so he won't know I'm in bed with him" As time went by, she asserted herself and when I had to work and leave John sleeping, she'd replace me and snuggle up against him, and he let her. He couldn't say no to her. Her favorite thing was to get daddy to scratch her titties. She'd back herself up against his legs and grunt, and he'd give her chest a good scritching. She was in heaven. And she loved us finding her sweet spots. One night as I sat watching t.v. she made sounds that she had to go outside. I was tired and I looked at her and told her "alright, Rose, if you really have to go outside, then bring me the leash" She stopped and gazed at me and grunted again. I informed her I wasn't fooled. She just wanted attention, but if she really had to go outside, then bring me the leash. The leash. and She looked at me, and the blue leash hanging on the coat closet knob and took her nose and edged the leash off the knob and onto her back. I fell outa my seat. And let her out, praising her a lot and telling her what a good dog she was. The next time, she did it again, but this time I insisted she bring me the leash, and this time, she hooked the leash on the end of her nose and when she dropped it, she picked it up and flipped it and it landed on her back and she dragged it to me. She taught herself to do this all by herself with just a little encouragement from me. when I showed John this when he got home he almost laughed himself wet. Rose knew when Michael's car was coming up the hill. Or Damon's many vehicles he'd had all these years. When Damon moved up from Louisiana, she was beside herself. Her Damon was HOME for her own pleasures. Any immediate family member she'd yodel when they came down the driveway and get so excited at their arrival that she'd pop the screen door latch and run outside, toenails scratching on concrete and running to greet whoever was home. Picking John up from his truck or getting him was reason to yodel and do her "Daddy's Hoooooooomeeeee!!!" She adored going, and loved when you came. We could be on the road for two days straight, and give her some of her well water, and a quick pasture and make the mistake of putting on my hat to go down the driveway to check the mail and she was all ready to do it again. Let's GO MA!!!! I could say "Mailbox!" and she'd grunt, open the door and head down the driveway, looking back and grinning at me all the time like hurry up, Ma!! When I went last year to get a puppy for her and us, she was not amused. I had given her a couple of experiences with dogs, but she acted like she was an only dog. Being around other dogs she was a serious wuss. Or from the windows of her truck or my car she'd act all bad ass and vicious. I knew she was lying. It was all an act. I brought Sugar out to the car to meet her and she was not amused. In the least. The puppy took to her immediately. This was a dog's dog. She adored Rose. And Rose wasn't having it. She sulked. And pouted. And growled and garbled at the little dog whose life had hung literally three days from death. Two weeks later, Rose was mama Rose, and acted grudgenly as if she could TOLERATE this dog, in fact, she discovered something she'd never been before. She was ALPHA!! First dog! Sugar ALWAYS minded when Rose corrected her. It was amazing. And eventually I caught a mutual dog liking between them, almost like "well, you should adore me, I AM Rose after all!" I sit here, choking up over these images I hold in my heart and know this dog has a special place in my heart always. And I will remember stories about her for as long as I have memories. As they surface, I will weep, and share them with you. thanks for being there for me in my time of sadness. I will say that I'm selfish. I wanted her another five or six years. I wanted to see Sugar settle into herself, to make one more trip to Michigan with Rose and Sugar both to see them at the Lake and see if Rose would jump in with the younger. I also saw that Rose was becoming white on her chin and her hips were paining her. So maybe the gods have been kinder to her and taken her sooner so that the severe aches of older dog age weren't so harsh on her. It was getting harder for her to jump into the warm waterbed with me and Sugar and the two or three cats lately. I'd hear her fussing and grunting and toenails as she'd pace up and down the end of the bed before finally judging the height of the two drawer underdrawer pedestal and finally get comfortable and hog 2/3rds of the waterbed. It was getting harder to get her out of the bed, too. John would have to speak more firm and a little harsher to get her out of the bed so he could get INTO the bed with me. Sometimes she refused and he wound up on the futon instead....g And getting into my truck became harder and harder for her. She still loved to go, and looked hurt if I only took Sugar, but she would go to my lower car first instead of the truck because her hips were aching her so much more. I loved and cherished this slut dawg very much. There will never be another like her. She blessed me and everyone's life who she encountered along her road. I had her a year and a half longer than I had Breed. Only this time it was unforseeable and unstoppable. There was no saving my sweet baby dog. My Beeebbbbeeee. Puppy uppers, puppy dawg, or Wwose (say it like Elmer Fudd). Tonight I will sleep fitfully, the 94 pound lump not next to me crowding me against the back of Sugar who sleeps on Squire's pillow. I won't hear Rose's grumbles when Piquito jumps into the bed to claim a spot on top of me or on my arm, as he smacks her face or bothers her tail in his trip to my face and pillow. Her horrible dog farts won't wake me anymore, and I will always remember her eating all those hundreds of 17 year cicadas. and waking me out of a dead sleep from the protein power farts later in the wee hours of the night. She gained 7 pounds from eating those for 5 weeks from my flower stems and leaves and me handing them to her. Rose you were a blessing and more than a best friend. I'll miss you. madgardener up on the ridge, where I can hear the sounds of the mourning doves in the overcast day outside, back in a somber Fairy Holler, overlooking English Mountain in Eastern Tennessee Well, this stressed Rose out considerably since she hated water. If it thundered, she'd go get into her bathtub. |
My sweet slut dawg, Rose
Lovely, sad story
"madgardener" wrote in message ... It was almost nine years ago, the last year my mom came to visit us and the only Christmas that my youngest son and his wife and two children ever came that something wonderful happened. The time was a miracle as it was because of my grand daughters and mom and dad actually coming up for Christmas. We'd never had the pleasure as the DIL was adamant about HER family. But somehow we convinced her to come up once and we decided to blow it out as it felt as if it was to be the only time. How sad and true it turned out to be. My mom came up only because we went and got her, and this was about the time that had we known what to look for, she was exibiting the first signs of Alzheimers. But this was a wonderous moment for us and me. This was something I've always wanted as long as I've had children. To try and duplicate the gatherings of family on holiday's with the grown children and grand kids. My mom had a way of doing things that are funny and just like her. She'll slip you money. And whisper about it. Well she had slipped me $100 and told me not to say anything because she didn't "have enough for everyone" and that it was my Christmas money. Shortly after that, my son, Damon informed me that he wanted a puppy just like Breed, an awesome half breed Lab.Golden Retreiver we'd had in our family for 7 1/2 years that had stolen our hearts and made us realize we weren't just cat people. Breed was from high class parents. His mom was a full blooded, with papers Golden Retreiver, and his dad was a full blooded, with papers White Lab and he was this awesome half breed we named Breed. He looked like Ol' Yeller. After we lost Breed to a disease I was unaware of that required shots for every year (he died horribly of catching distemper, and yearly shots would have saved him) we tried a few times to replace him, but no dog ever proved worthy or of quality that he had. After Squire and I moved to eastern Tennessee, we were back to being cat people. And I had moved all our felines with us to White PIne and the rental farmhouse. We brought the old lady, Fwit and Roscoe and his sister, Sweetie who you all know passed this year at the ripe age of 20, and we had Lou, our deaf white cat, FuzzyButt a Norweigian Forest cat who was unbelievable. We also had Pie and her kittens, and when we lost Pie to the coyote, we kept Pye, her daughter and an orange tabby female we named after our daughter, Jennifer, or Jenners as we called her. She and Pye were the same age. When we got the house in Dandridge, and the year we had this incredible once in a lifetime gathering, I informed Damon that there would never be another dog like Breed. But I was willing to take him to the pound to see if there was a puppy there for him. We got up there, and the lady took us to the large room where the mother dogs and larger dogs were at, and in one bricko block pen, a small black Lab was sitting in the middle of the pen, surrounded by 14 month old puppies. All but one were pitch black. Some were fuzzy, most were short haired, and one,only one was golden like Breed. My son was floored. He picked out the little male and dubbed him Clyde and paid the $50 for the puppy and we went home. As soon as we came into the house (with his oldest girl clambering for the puppy) Squire saw it and started to cry, telling us that he still missed Breed..........Well I did too, and he said he wanted a dog too..........I grumbled that they cost $50, but there were 13 more at the pound and come on, we'd go see. So Squire and I load up in the truck and we went back to the pound, and the first puppy he picks out is a fluffy black male. "nope, no males this time. THIS time I want a female" I informed him. And about that time, a little black (they were ALL black) female comes over to him and sits on his foot. "How about this one? It's a female" And I agreed. Grudgenly. As we drove home, me holding the little ball of black puff, I asked what we'd name her. "I have a name in mind" Squire informs me. "She'll name herself." We get home and reunite the two siblings and they slept in a cat carrier together the rest of son and his wife and children's visit, and when they left, we were left with this little female who had instantly bonded with everyone. John looks at me and informs me that he's naming her Rose. "Rosie?" "No, Rose, she's a black Rose, she's very special" and so that became her name. Getting her at 4 weeks of age, and in the winter I dreaded the messes she would make, but resigned myself that this time I would train a dog properly. Breed was another story altogether and someday I'll tell you about his quirks that made him endearing and incredibly unique. When Rose had to go, I'd take her outside and let her poop in the flowerbeds, which were piled up with a rather high snow. I also took her down the driveway and we'd walk into the pasture and I'd tell her, "pasture, Rose" and when she'd go, I'd praise her and she seemed to be rather smart. In fact, she was smarter than I thought she was. Not knowing how to housebreak her, I decided to put her at night into the bathroom. She decided her place was between the comode and the wall, all tucked in tight. And when it thundered, she'd go hide in the bathroom, shoving herself into the narrow space trying to hide. Later when she'd get in trouble, she'd run to the bathroom and since she was too large to wedge herself into the space between the wall and comode, she'd get into the tub. It became her safe place. She still had her moments. But as a puppy, only made one mistake, and that was to chew up daddy's wallet one night which she never ever did again. Once was enough for Rose. To say this dog was smart was an understatement. I would make unusual answering machine messages before going out and she would watch me and start turning in circles all happy that I was going OUTSIDE and possibly for a drive. I had broken this dog in early. Taking her everywhere with me. She only got sick twice, and after those two times, she'd not eat or drink during a trip until she got where she was going. Rose would see me grab the keys and get excited and go to the front door and beg to go NOW! She learned to get wound up when I put on my coat, or hat. Where I could spell O U T S I D E to Breed and he knew what that word spelt, she knew the word outside...... When Rose went thru her teenage time of not minding, to get her to come, I'd rattle the keyring to get her to come. And once she appeared from wherever she was at, I'd have to give her a ride to reinforce the good behavior. Her love was to roll in the most stinking stuff she could find. Her first roll was cow placenta. In the pasture from the birth of one of Benton's calves. It was horrible, and she adored it. Or turkey poop. Or cow poop. For years, her favorite sneaky snack was cat poop until I humiliated her and she never touched or snatched it out of the box ever again. She'd get so excited about going that she'd scramble toenails on the floor to race outside to get to the truck. And when I opened up the door, she'd fly into the front, jump into the back and then pop back into the passenger seat to prop herself up on her elbow and gaze out the window all cool. She went to Colorado with me in our first little truck with oldest son cramping her from his being so large. She informed me that she was horribly afraid of water. Rain, water, bathing, anything that was wet. I never had given her bad experiences but wet was just not right for her, this black Lab. I figured she'd drowned in her other life. She'd tell me by grunting that she needed to go outside, but if it was raining, she look at me like "you're kidding me, right? You don't expect me to go out, do you in this wet???" There was the night she finally learned to ask to go outside. I had started bringing her into the bedroom with us instead of leaving her in the bathroom because she was still lonely. She'd cry. So since she didn't mess in the bedroom (and I discovered that Lab's and Retrievers don't mess up their sleeping area's) she could sleep with us in the bedroom. After Squire went to sleep, I slipped her into the bed with us, and that's how it started. Now Squire didn't allow dogs to sleep in the bed with him. Cats barely made it as it was, despite all the years together. Cats knew to sleep on or around me, not on or near him. Sometime during one night after many many nights of me or son getting up to take the puppy outside, with Squire snoring, oblivious to it all, I'd had enough. "Next time she whines to go out, I'm not getting up, let him take her out" Sure enough, Rose had already mastered two distinct vocals concerning outside. She'd grunt if she needed to pee, and make an "aww aww aww grunt" sound when she had to poop. I heard her making her poop sound and ignored her. I could hear her toes walking back and forth on the carpet under the waterbed, and as I laid there, I hoped that John would wake up and take her out. He heard her and did what he always did, poked me and said "the dog needs to go out" and I lay there as if I was dead. The dog continued only more desperate. So I hear the usual "Sh!!!! and he gets up and pads across the floor, opens the door of the bedroom and goes into the bathroom to relieve himself first. Rose had to go badly. And she went in front of the bathroom where he stepped into it. It was water this time. But the next time she did this, he had taken her out of the bed, telling me that dogs didn't sleep with us. Sometime during the morning hours, she started her "I gotta poop" sound and once again, he tried to get me to get up and take her out and I played dead. But this was different. Last time she had peed in front of the door, so he gets up and opens the door and I hear the front door open and then "Rose??? Where are you? ROSE???" silence.......footsteps............."why you sunnufabitch you! YOU LIED TO ME!!!!!!!!" I had actually slipped back to sleep and woke to his incredulous voice as he accused her of lying to him. Because there was Rose in bed with me, she'd lied to him. Told him she had to poop, NOW and when he opened the door and gone to let her out the livingroom door, she saw her chance and jumped into the bed with me all on her own. Lying there all innocent. After that, she had to need to go before he'd take her out. Fool him once........... She went with me to Ovieda, Florida when I met up with Squire and the sweetest little gardener friend........Zhanataya. I wound up sleeping at her house for 5 days and visiting her and Rose acted like she owned the place. The first night when Zhan informed me we were sleep overing together in the kingsize bed, Rose promptly jumped into the middle of the bed and slept between us like she was something special. That was the trip we discovered her hatred and lothing of water. I coaxed her to the pool and plopped her in, and despite that she swam to the shallow end, she was NOT amused and for the rest of the visit, it was skirt the edge of her pool very very carefully so as not to be plunked into that water again. And she humiliated me. We went to sight see and left her in the house, since she was a really good dog, and because she didn't eat on trips, I'd brought her dry food and a can of Alpo with me and given it to her for a treat. She was packed tight and couldn't get out and went into Zhan's beautiful Southwestern livingroom and left a huge gift..........I was mortified. Here I was visiting someone for the first time I'd written to on the newsgroup and my dog had shat in her livingroom! Rose discovered she loved children when we went to Colorado to visit my best friend, Dian and her kids and husband. We've been friends since 1978 and I discovered after all this time something I never knew. Dian's husband, Greg was allergic to dogs. Very badly. He swelled up. And her youngest daughter, Claire was violently afraid of dogs due to the mean ones they often encountered when going to the park and on outings and she was deathly afraid of Rose. Rose was mortified. Here were something she liked. children. And she couldn't enjoy them. She sulked the whole visit in the yard, on Dian's deck, and only left to ride with me and to leave presents in Dian's pea patch. At least Dian's boys played with her, and she'd gaze at us thru the screen into the kitchen begging to come inside and lie under the table. Already she had established habits and ways that were her own. And to lie under the table quietly and not beg was one of her ways. Almost seven years ago, a woman came up the driveway asking if I had lost a kitten. Inside was a little tiny black male. And thinking Rose needed a buddy, I told her I'd take him. He became Rose's kitty, Pesters. And how they loved each other. Rose didn't play. At 2 1/2 she was finally out of her springs stage and a little lazy because I didn't run with her a lot, but Pest took to her and knew she was his. Rose would grumble and growl at him when he messed with her and I knew that even though she acted like she didn't like his aggrivating ways, he was her little buddy. It wasn't long despite that this was an aggrivating kitten, that they were buds. Pesters would play git the dawgs tail, and Rose would grumble and growl and bite him on his butt while Pesters would attack this huge thing like she wasn't outweighing him by 85 pounds. Thru the years, Rose and I had a lot of adventures. And often she'd pop up in my writings about Fairy Holler. She discovered when she was middle aged with our oldest grand child, Ava that she could swim if she had to. We took her with us of course to Grand Haven, Michigan and we lived in the lake the whole time. Rose adored the sands on the beach, and running and playing with Ava. But when we got into the warm, shallow lake by the shore, she stressed. We went deeper to waist high and played with Ava on the float and Rose ran up and down the edge yodeling and crying that she couldn't stand this. She'd jump into the waves and back out and yodel more. Then we started calling her and telling her to come on if you are coming. and all of a sudden she jumped in and swam to us. Crying the whole time. She made it to us and then turned around and went back to the beach and it was impossible to stay in the water after that because she couldn't stand being away from her child. That night she and her kid slept like logs. Rose totally wore out, Ava a lobster red, red haired fairy child whose sunscreen hadn't worked, and Rose as tight up against her child as she could get, twitching all happy with her pack. Anyone Rose met, she remembered. Even years later even if it were a one time encounter. Rose looked bad, but she'd lick you to death. But I had begun to have a different respect for her when once a man totally captivated by her sweet face, reached in the window to pet her and she nipped him. This was her truck and Mama hadn't introduced him to her and this blew me away. Maybe Rose had protective instincts afterall.........I sometimes doubted it. I could go "wuss!!" and she'd get all protective and guard dog and she'd make people smile in cars near us at lights. And she made friends of some young kids when we were stuck in traffic last week in the Bonneroo siege when she smiled at some young men in a truck and out of mischieviousness and kindness for our heat and discomfort, they squirted us with their water blasters. Rose loved it. My eyes are tearing up as I write this. There were almost nine years of awesome times with this special dog. This friend to me. She was here at a time when I was dying from lack of anyone close to visit or be with. When John was away for weeks on end with his job with the project, she learned her place was in the bed with me, and later would grunt her displeasure when he came home, because he was taking HER spot. Only after he got up and she jumped into the bed to be with me again was she happy. And one day, when his son and wife brought their first baby down for us to meet and visit with, Rose quietly slipped into the bedroom and got up in the bed with him, and I have the picture. Her face as if she's saying "shhhh, I'm lying very very still so he won't know I'm in bed with him" As time went by, she asserted herself and when I had to work and leave John sleeping, she'd replace me and snuggle up against him, and he let her. He couldn't say no to her. Her favorite thing was to get daddy to scratch her titties. She'd back herself up against his legs and grunt, and he'd give her chest a good scritching. She was in heaven. And she loved us finding her sweet spots. One night as I sat watching t.v. she made sounds that she had to go outside. I was tired and I looked at her and told her "alright, Rose, if you really have to go outside, then bring me the leash" She stopped and gazed at me and grunted again. I informed her I wasn't fooled. She just wanted attention, but if she really had to go outside, then bring me the leash. The leash. and She looked at me, and the blue leash hanging on the coat closet knob and took her nose and edged the leash off the knob and onto her back. I fell outa my seat. And let her out, praising her a lot and telling her what a good dog she was. The next time, she did it again, but this time I insisted she bring me the leash, and this time, she hooked the leash on the end of her nose and when she dropped it, she picked it up and flipped it and it landed on her back and she dragged it to me. She taught herself to do this all by herself with just a little encouragement from me. when I showed John this when he got home he almost laughed himself wet. Rose knew when Michael's car was coming up the hill. Or Damon's many vehicles he'd had all these years. When Damon moved up from Louisiana, she was beside herself. Her Damon was HOME for her own pleasures. Any immediate family member she'd yodel when they came down the driveway and get so excited at their arrival that she'd pop the screen door latch and run outside, toenails scratching on concrete and running to greet whoever was home. Picking John up from his truck or getting him was reason to yodel and do her "Daddy's Hoooooooomeeeee!!!" She adored going, and loved when you came. We could be on the road for two days straight, and give her some of her well water, and a quick pasture and make the mistake of putting on my hat to go down the driveway to check the mail and she was all ready to do it again. Let's GO MA!!!! I could say "Mailbox!" and she'd grunt, open the door and head down the driveway, looking back and grinning at me all the time like hurry up, Ma!! When I went last year to get a puppy for her and us, she was not amused. I had given her a couple of experiences with dogs, but she acted like she was an only dog. Being around other dogs she was a serious wuss. Or from the windows of her truck or my car she'd act all bad ass and vicious. I knew she was lying. It was all an act. I brought Sugar out to the car to meet her and she was not amused. In the least. The puppy took to her immediately. This was a dog's dog. She adored Rose. And Rose wasn't having it. She sulked. And pouted. And growled and garbled at the little dog whose life had hung literally three days from death. Two weeks later, Rose was mama Rose, and acted grudgenly as if she could TOLERATE this dog, in fact, she discovered something she'd never been before. She was ALPHA!! First dog! Sugar ALWAYS minded when Rose corrected her. It was amazing. And eventually I caught a mutual dog liking between them, almost like "well, you should adore me, I AM Rose after all!" I sit here, choking up over these images I hold in my heart and know this dog has a special place in my heart always. And I will remember stories about her for as long as I have memories. As they surface, I will weep, and share them with you. thanks for being there for me in my time of sadness. I will say that I'm selfish. I wanted her another five or six years. I wanted to see Sugar settle into herself, to make one more trip to Michigan with Rose and Sugar both to see them at the Lake and see if Rose would jump in with the younger. I also saw that Rose was becoming white on her chin and her hips were paining her. So maybe the gods have been kinder to her and taken her sooner so that the severe aches of older dog age weren't so harsh on her. It was getting harder for her to jump into the warm waterbed with me and Sugar and the two or three cats lately. I'd hear her fussing and grunting and toenails as she'd pace up and down the end of the bed before finally judging the height of the two drawer underdrawer pedestal and finally get comfortable and hog 2/3rds of the waterbed. It was getting harder to get her out of the bed, too. John would have to speak more firm and a little harsher to get her out of the bed so he could get INTO the bed with me. Sometimes she refused and he wound up on the futon instead....g And getting into my truck became harder and harder for her. She still loved to go, and looked hurt if I only took Sugar, but she would go to my lower car first instead of the truck because her hips were aching her so much more. I loved and cherished this slut dawg very much. There will never be another like her. She blessed me and everyone's life who she encountered along her road. I had her a year and a half longer than I had Breed. Only this time it was unforseeable and unstoppable. There was no saving my sweet baby dog. My Beeebbbbeeee. Puppy uppers, puppy dawg, or Wwose (say it like Elmer Fudd). Tonight I will sleep fitfully, the 94 pound lump not next to me crowding me against the back of Sugar who sleeps on Squire's pillow. I won't hear Rose's grumbles when Piquito jumps into the bed to claim a spot on top of me or on my arm, as he smacks her face or bothers her tail in his trip to my face and pillow. Her horrible dog farts won't wake me anymore, and I will always remember her eating all those hundreds of 17 year cicadas. and waking me out of a dead sleep from the protein power farts later in the wee hours of the night. She gained 7 pounds from eating those for 5 weeks from my flower stems and leaves and me handing them to her. Rose you were a blessing and more than a best friend. I'll miss you. madgardener up on the ridge, where I can hear the sounds of the mourning doves in the overcast day outside, back in a somber Fairy Holler, overlooking English Mountain in Eastern Tennessee Well, this stressed Rose out considerably since she hated water. If it thundered, she'd go get into her bathtub. |
My sweet slut dawg, Rose
Maddie,
Please accept my late condolences. Its a willing suspension of disbelief that allows us to give our hearts to our furred companions when we know from the outset we are asking for pain. You aren't alone. There is a remembrance candle lit here in Western Maine for you and Rose. Sue in Western Maine |
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