My dogs

My first dog was born two weeks before me in early September 1976. I grew up with her and have no childhood memory that exists without Nicki. She was my soul mate in dog form. If I was sick, she stayed by my side for days, only leaving to go outside to the bathroom. When I was away during the school year, I'd call home and we'd "talk"  on the phone. I sat a place for her at the table on the front porch where Tani and I played and had our own private kid suppers of Tony's Pizza and DQ.

The litter of puppies that Nicki was from, oddly enough, all stayed together their whole lives, too. The whole dog family and my human family-- my grandparents, well, we all lived together. How strange to think of it now. Nicki, Brownie, Charlie- the offspring of Cookie and damn...I can't believe I can't remember the dad's name.

I was 14 when Nicki was ailing and in her last days. I watched her degrade and am haunted to this day of how she suffered from dehydration, how her skin was so papery and loose. The day she died, I could only watch as my grandfather carried her from the house. In hindsight, it seems she was young for so long and old only for a few moments and then gone. My heart was broken. I was convinced that I no longer even liked dogs my heart hurt so badly.

Nicki age 10

Squeekers came into my life when I was 23. I was living in Portland and in love with hound dogs- Basset Hounds- and came across her on the internet in a rescue in southern Oregon. I'll never forget how long and pretty she was-- a beautiful white and red that matched my hair color perfectly. She was beaten up, used up and unwanted. I vowed to take care of her forever. I have. She is now two months away from her 15th birthday, so here we are, 11 years later. She is nearly pure white, weighs next to nothing to the point every bone shows and has advanced glaucoma in one eye and has lost sight in the other. She is still somehow the busiest dog ever -- always investigating and checking on me. I used to joke she was aging in reverse until she came down with acute glaucoma back last summer. I have watched her age and slow down considerably ever since. Her old age has become very real in the last many months-- from being fecal incontinent, to running into things, to being unsure at times of her surroundings. For instance, she hears a sound and looks the opposite direction of where it came from. Bizarre things like this have been hard to watch and hard to manage. In many ways, I have prepared myself emotionally for her exit from this world...knowing she has had a long and wonderful life post-rescue from a terrible situation. Know too, that her being changed me, too. I was just a kid myself when I found her and she was my impetus to grow up. I bought a home for her-- as no one would rent to me with a dog back in those days. It was she and I-- lone crusaders-- who took residence in this home in NoPo-- all alone and scared back in those years. I was her savior and in many ways, she was mine. I often joke that in her, I adopted myself...but that is another tale.

Squeakers (I kept her name pre-adoption) age 3

Squeakers now. No- that is not the flash whiting her out. 

Simon, my sweet boy, Simon came almost half a decade later. I was at work one day when I received a call saying: "Oh my god, there is a dog tied to the front porch with a note!" To paraphrase, the note said: "You are such a nice lady and you take such nice care of your Basset- we hope you can take in Simon." Now, I knew Simon. He used to live with a fellow in the corner apartments. The guy was not a "dog guy" and came across Simon in a house moving job where at the end of the job, the couple said: "Do you know anyone who would want this dog?  We don't want him anymore."  Of course, the guy felt awful for the sweet Basset soul and brought him home. But, he had no clue how to take care of him and didn't have the means to. It was summer 2005 and Simon had fleas and the guy washed him weekly with human shampoo to the point the poor dog was bald in spots. He also left him out and unleashed when he was gone. I used to pick him up and put him in my fenced backyard and lavish treats on him. I would also drop off food and flea meds, always acting like I had extra I had to get rid of. Eventually, with finding Simon in the street so often, I grew bold and told the guy first that I would babysit whenever needed and eventually, that if he couldn't care for Simon, I would. One day, they were gone. Many months passed and I put Simon out of my mind and heart. Yet here he was-- all these months later.

Of course I took him in. It was 18 degrees and Simon had been living in a back of an open pickup since the man had moved to a place where dogs were not allowed. He was so thin and so hungry, poor Simon. I lit a fire that night and made a bed for him right by the fireplace. I fixed him a bowl of food and set it in front of him. I will never forget-- he did not pounce on it as I thought he would-- he first looked to me as if to say, "This is for me?"  What a sweet, sweet soul.

Today, Simon died and my heart is broken. His loss is so sudden and so painful that we are in shock. Three nights ago, Simon was shaking and threw up. He was rigid and would or could not lay down and get comfortable. No matter the time I checked on him, he was standing-- so strange. I took him to the vet the next day and x-rays and bloodtests were taken. The xrays showed a mass that bore no definition or explanation without an ultrasound and the bloodwork showed a seriously high white blood cell count, indicating pancreatitus or potentially cancer. I moved him to Dove Lewis after another restless night and day at home. This morning, they called and told me that he was in agony due to confirmed cancerous lesions on his organs- his kidneys- and was close to renal failure. There was no treatment that would make him feel better and asked how long he had- she said: days. Excruciating....painful...days.

My heart truly broke- again and again and again today. We went to Dove Lewis and I held Simon on my lap and massaged his ears. He was in such brutal agony that every moment felt like a selfish, cruel act. His passing was quick, quiet and peaceful. He is so missed. So missed. He was the perfect dog in every single way. If I could always have my Simon, I would.

Simon age 8

Simon this last summer