Thursday, July 12, 2012

Schemie, One Last Tribute

(I don’t expect anyone to read this.  I just want to talk about it, so disregard)

One year ago, I lost my best friend ever.  A black GSD/lab/chow/rottie mix.  Spotty tongue.  Little bit of tan on the butt. 

16 years ago a coworker told me about some puppies a neighbor of hers had.  Apparently not spayed…  Ahem….

It had been one year since I lost the glorious Cyrus, so I went to see them.

And fell in love with one little black pup who hid a bit from his siblings.  Free of charge, puppy was loaded up in the car.  Little fleabag drooled the whole way 45 – 50 minute trip home from St. Charles.  Soaking wet, we stopped at Petsmart to get him a little collar and a little leash.  10 weeks old and a whopping 8 pounds.

First stop was in the kitchen sink for a bath!!  A good soaking, mild shampoo, to wash 10 weeks of dirt and grime and (EEK) fleas off the kid.  How he still loved me after that is amazing. 

One or two weeks in to the new home, he found a bees’ nest.  I walked out to find a 10 pound puppy covered in burrs, I thought.  BEES!!!  Rushed him to the vet, couple shots and home he came.  And he cried and cried and cried, until I called the vet, who took him home for the night to care for him.  Much to his son’s sleep-deprived displeasure.  Same-said son I most undoubtedly helped put through college…

Our first walk on leash evolved into sheer shrieks of terror from the puppy, neighbors thinking I was torturing a puppy and ended with me carrying him up to the park to wander on his leash and carrying back home.  Each and every walk attempt resulted in me carrying him to the park.  That lasted until he got far too heavy for me to carry. 

Schemie-love, you were the perfect man at the right time and you made it easy to be the perfect mama.

Walks evolved with training (puppy class flunkee – peed everywhere) to the point he could walk off leash next to my side.

And next to my side he stayed.  Trips to Indiana at Christmas where he unwrapped presents he wasn’t supposed to and played with the kids, to trips to Michigan where he demanded his boat rides and hike up the 2-track with his grandpa.

What a life we had together, baby boy.

July 11, 2011, I let him out for 5 minutes to do his business.  In less than 5 minutes, I saw him leaning on a swing, disoriented, and rushed him to the vet.  They got his temperature under control and that night, they said he could come home in the morning.

I promised my new little girl of less than 2 months, (Schemie’s new sissy DeeDee) he’s coming home.  She bonded so quickly to that love dog.

July 12, 2011, I get a call in the morning telling me he didn’t make it.  God!!  He’s supposed to live forever.  I screamed into the phone (my apologies to the vet) and rushed the ¼ mile to the vet.  I lost it seeing my magnificent boy lifeless.  I spooned him, kissed him and told him he was never supposed to leave me.

He had turned 15 two months prior.

I was a tragic mess.  The vet, his wife and the techs all came down with rugs and towels for me to lie on while I cradled my boy, sobbing.  He was my everything.

I still cry for this boy.  I have some awesome new kids now, one a sweet little princess, the other, a hilarious clown.  And I wouldn’t trade that for the world!!  They are my life.  And they helped heal my heart with their love.

Schemie, my darling love, watch over us.  I know you do.

See you soon, baby boy!

Love, Mama

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