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Saying Good Bye. .
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At some time, when I least
expected it, I became one of people who actually cooks for
their dog. In this case, it's a 15.5 year old Jack Russell
terrier, Cassidy (aka Cassidy-Wassidy, the Little White Dog,
Cass-i-DEE, and damn-it-Cassidy - a name she acquired after
shredding the front of not one..... not two..... but THREE
sofas when her ball would get caught underneath).
This "little white dog" (as our song about her goes) has
been a bundle of energy, joy, and exasperation in our house
since she was six weeks old. She has been my daughter's best
friend, and then my little companion when my daughter left
for college a couple of years ago. She has ruled the roost,
been the queen, guarded us from postal workers and stray
cats, and has even stood her ground with my husbands German
shepherd/alpha dog/control freak. In any case, I can't
remember much of what it was like around here without her.
I took my daughters to the move "My Dog Skip" when it
premiered years ago, and remember doing that shaking
"gasp-gasp-gasp" cry that not only brings tears, but brings
you to the mercy of your own sniveling, face-dripping,
public humiliation. The kind of movie-cry where your nose
and eyes seem to be having a race to see which one can drain
the most out of you, and the kind where the sleeve of the
person next to you begins to look very inviting. The relief
at that time was that the manly-man in the row behind us was
also getting a little noisy in his nose-drip prevention.
When the lights came up there was no denying the impact this
movie had on me - much to the delight of my daughters, as
they pointed out my soaked and smeared, mascara-run face. It
felt like "The Lion King" all over again!
After watching that movie, I remember thinking that Cassidy
would NEVER run out of her energy like Skip did. Now I'm
seeing a parallel story line from that movie and I am doing
whatever I can to prolong that sad ending where I have to
say good-bye to my little white dog. Just like in the movie,
one day she just couldn't quite jump up on my daughter's bed
any more. Before long she couldn't even do her trick of
jumping up in my arms when I clapped my hands. When her
snout began to go white, she began to also show her
age.
Last year, around Christmas, Cassidy had what we believe to
be, a doggie stroke. She lost some of the use of one of her
hind legs, but eventually forgot that it didn't work as well
as the others.
A couple of months ago Cassidy began
to reject her doggie food, so I started enticing her to eat
by giving her people food. Now I'm actually cooking her
favorites for her and making her little doggie meals!
THIS - from the person who wouldn't allow her own children
to be picky eaters, to the point to where they were the only
kids in town who not only ate, but asked for
rutabagas and Brussel sprouts! (Brussel sprouts were
especially fun on "giant" night. You know.... Cornish game
hens, sprouts, and baby corn. Broccoli is good on giant
night too. Giants love to ravage the forests and eat the
trees!) (Giant night was also "bad manners night.")
I know my little pal Cassidy will not be around too much
longer, but as long as she's not in pain, I'll enjoy her
stinky-breath company for as long as she lets me. For a dog
I was told I "wasn't allowed" to get, she sure has brought a
lot of life into this home, and we have centered ours
around her.
Cassidy may not have ever learned that barking at waves
didn't stop them, or that every ball in sight did not belong
to her, or that there was an end to the leash - but what she
did know how to do, she has done exceptionally well. She has
loved us unconditionally, she has entertained us endlessly,
and she has shown her loyalty every day.
November 28, 2010
That sad day finally arrived and I said a final
good-bye to my little Cassidy this morning.
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