postheadericon A Tribute to Snoop

I came home from judging two full days last night and as usual was greeted by the mob.  My Snoop seemed subdued but he has had some kind infection in his sinus tract and I pinned it on that and the fact that I had just found a growth in his right nostril.  He was also having trouble getting up and moving. He was on meds and had seemed to be responding, but last night after I went to bed exhausted after two days of judging dog shows on concrete with my still recuperating rebuilt foot, I was awakened by his pacing and panting, pacing and panting—sure signs of pain.  His abdomen was rock hard and he cried when I touched it.  So at three a.m. I took him to my vet who came in did an x-ray which showed no suspected bloat and did blood work.  His pain was so bad we knocked him out. It he had a mass on his liver and a gall bladder problem. My vet, my hero always, Dr. Mark Harris of Annehurst Vet Clinic in Westerville, kept him to keep him sedated and out of pain.  He seemed to respond and so I picked him up late afternoon knowing the writing was on the wall, but was hoping for more time with him; as soon as I got him home he told me that he was still really in pain and ready to go. So I called Annehurst and my friend and vet tech came up and we put him to sleep while in my arms.  He knew and I knew that it was time and he knew and I knew that we loved each other.  He was loyal, devoted and always with me.  I am grateful to God that he became really ill at three o’clock this morning and was gone at seven this evening—no lingering and suffering.  He is buried in our grove of trees in the front and I will plant a dogwood tree on his grave.  What I will do without him is beyond me.  Like my Wendy whom I lost last July, his presence is all over this house. I see him beside the bed, in his favorite chair, everywhere.


Snoop was a character in every way.  He could take a Tupperware container off the counter by his teeth by the edge of the bowl, place it gently on the floor, get the top off, and dine.  He could get into the garbage even with child locks on the cabinets.  The day I found Wendy and him with the Thanksgiving turkey on the kitchen floor each pulling on a wing, I chased him out of the kitchen with a frying pan and only his quickness saved his ass. Then there was the day he took my thick, juicy T bone.  Only the thought of my having to go to confession for murder saved his ass again.  The amazing thing is he always knew when he did things to make me crazy as I would not have to say a word, just watch him slinking before I found his latest misdeed like pulling all the paper out of waste baskets. He knew what he was doing and knew he could get away with it.

He came into our life a rescue.  He was a year and a half old and was to stay only a couple of days until I could place him.  Twelve or thirteen years or more later, he was still with me.  I just wish he was mine for longer but he is waiting for me standing by Al, Wendy and all the others at the Rainbow Bridge waiting, just waiting . . .

snoop collage1


postheadericon This and That and Revisiting

I have not been blogging since my life has gotten a bit out of hand.  Since last June I have had seven hospitalizations including three surgeries: back; foot reconstruction (I am now the bionic woman with knees, neck, and foot—all metal); and colon surgery for diverticulitis. I am behind in everything and have not had a lot of motivation or energy.   Today is the third anniversary of my Al’s death; he would have been eighty four.  Time just goes so quickly.  It seems like yesterday we were in the hospital.  I feel so lost without him so much of the time.  He was a good guy. 

I am getting quite a few emails from Cavalier families losing their beloved pets.  I lost my Wendy a year ago this month and miss her terribly.  The loss of a pet is not the loss of a husband or loved one, but still it is a wrenching loss as the pet is often by one’s side physically and I for one miss that continual comfort that was my Wendy.  My others comfort me as they lay on or by me; but no one can replace another.  So because I have gotten so many emails, some from Rattlebridge families with old dogs and some not, I am repeating the sections on grief.

Please click here to read the Grief sections.