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Love Letter to My Little Man

Love Letter to My Little Man
Rosie
  • On January 27, 2016
  • https://cant-talk.com

For our Pets Theme Week, Rosie wrote us a piece about her dog. He has a lot of names.

When my big sister was born, our parents already had a dog. I was born 21 months later, and the dog was very excited to have TWO babies in his home. He was thrilled when, 18 months later, a third baby came along. He was a funny looking little fella and most people had never heard of his breed back in the late 60s—a little tuxedo’d gentleman with fantastic bat-ears and no tail—he was a Boston terrier. I was in first grade when he died. I know there was a gap between that and getting another dog, but I don’t remember it. We’ve always had dogs in our home. Always. All this is to say: I love dogs more than I like most people. 

When my big sister was born, our parents already had a dog. I was born 21 months later, and the dog was very excited to have TWO babies in his home. He was thrilled when, 18 months later, a third baby came along. He was a funny looking little fella and most people had never heard of his breed back in the late 60s—a little tuxedo’d gentleman with fantastic bat-ears and no tail—he was a Boston terrier. I was in first grade when he died. I know there was a gap between that and getting another dog, but I don’t remember it. We’ve always had dogs in our home. Always. All this is to say: I love dogs more than I like most people.

About eight and a half years ago, I went to the Oregon Humane Society to play with and mmmmayyyyybe get another Lab to keep our old Lab company during the day. Maybe. We didn’t really NEED another dog (except that everyone always needs more dogs), but we really wanted more. We had the space in our home and our hearts. As I was waiting for a play session with a beautiful chocolate lab, one of the workers walked past holding in his arms a little, shaking Boston. I yelled at him, “Stop! I need that dog!” I hadn’t seen a Boston in years, but once you’re under their spell, there is no forgetting and no turning back.

Little Dude

Little Dude


 

Handsome Man

Handsome Man

I had to wait overnight for Little Dude to be processed in the system, and then when his profile was online, I had to be lucky enough to catch it first thing to put a hold on him. I sat up all night, refreshing my computer screen, until he appeared. I was the first in line with a hold. By the time I got to the Humane Society 45 minutes later, there were 32 people in line behind me. 32 people who wanted my Handsome Man. Madness!


 

Dog Dog

Dog Dog

In retrospect, it might have been more responsible to walk out with the chocolate lab, knowing that Dog-Dog would certainly find a good home. But he was my boy. I knew I couldn’t leave without him.


 

Buddy

Buddy

Six and a half years ago, as my daughter and I were preparing to move to Tucson, we discovered Buddy had enormous anxiety around suitcases and packing boxes. It was awful to watch the fear in his little bulging eyes and the nervous dancing around all our things.  We realized the response was probably related to being abandoned by his first owners at 11 months old when they moved into a new home that wouldn’t allow pets.  


 

Snorfle-Dog

Snorfle-Dog

As time went on, we found other things that made him skittish or afraid and made unkind assumptions about those first owners. We’ll never know if they’re true or not, and I don’t really care. The important thing to me is that we no longer do those actions around the Snorfle-Dog.


 

Sausage Dog

Sausage Dog

About two and a half years ago, we discovered Little Man had a detached retina and his right eye was removed. I’m pretty sure his recovery was harder for me than it was for him.  Shortly after the surgery, the cataract in his remaining eye bloomed at a faster-than-normal rate and less than six months later, our funny little Sausage Dog was blind.

 

He takes it in stride—he knows his way around the house, never misses the step down to the living room, occasionally misses the sofa when jumping up to a lap, and only falls into the pool two or three times a year (after which, he is very careful for a few months). He loves car rides and knows how to navigate from the car back to the house. If you watch him, it looks like he’s counting his steps the way a blind person does on a known path. He is amazing.


 

Meat Dog

Meat Dog

I asked him one day as he was sitting on my lap, “Are you happy, Meat Dog? Do you have a good life?” He tilted his head at me, as he does, and I’m pretty sure he said yes.


 

Little Man

Little Man

Earlier today, I took him to the vet to have a little cyst on his shoulder looked at. No big deal. I assumed they’d aspirate it and maybe make an appointment to have it removed in a week or so.  I was half right. They aspirated it, but the lab was inconclusive. They took a second needle aspiration and sent it to an oncology lab for further review. They’ll probably be able to remove it (I should know by the end of the week) and he’ll most likely be fine (I should know a week or so following the removal).

Bostons typically live for 15-20 years; in theory, we still have a lot of years left with together. I’m sure, like all his other trials, he’ll get through this. He’s a strong dude. He’s my strong little man.

 


 

His name, by the way, is Sampson.

Sampson

Sampson

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