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.

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.

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