TheBanyanTree: well, then.

[Deb Frost]

Paul - I think you found Wilma the Wonderdog the same year I met my Frosty.
The Hale-Bopp comet was a memorable event, wasn't it?

Husbands ... dogs ... <sigh> Gotta love 'em both even when they destroy the
furniture and keep you up nights <wink>. And it is so very hard to lose
either one. Having come so close to losing Frosty this winter brings back
that winter 13 years ago so very clearly. Can it really have been so long
ago?

My heart goes out to you tonight.
Hugs from chilly Alaska,
-Deb

To: The Banyan Tree
Subject: TheBanyanTree: well, then.

I got her when she was almost six weeks old.  Half German Shepard, half
Black Chow.  The chow shows as a few spots on her tongue and the way her
coat can rise.

It was this time of year and a cold winter for here.  I forget the name
of the comet that winter, but it had a forked tail.  Puppy was small
enough to drop into a coat pocket, big enough to peek out.  Incredibly
cute.  Too cold to put that tiny thing outside when it's sleeting.  We
had snow that winter and she loved it.  I made her a place in the
laundry room and used a "kiddie gate" to shut her in. Don't want puppy
digestive by-products scattered about, right?  Turned off the lights and
went to bed.  Oh good grief!, the whining and crying and barking!  Ok,
yipping.  Suddenly, silence.  Good, she went to sleep!  No, she did not.
She chewed a hole through the plastic mesh of the kiddie gate and
escaped.  Went directly to the bedroom and let me know, too.  Quite a
trek for a critter half the size of a small weiner dog.  We repeated the
process.  She won again the next night after chewing another hole
(because I turned the gate upside down).  I found an old pair of
sweatpants that night and that was her bed from then on.

Right next to me.  I reckon we had a bit of love at first sight going on.

Didn't want a house dog.  Got one anyway.

Hey, I have a couple of her puppy teeth in the china cabinet.


The arthritis has destroyed her knees plus a pretty nasty job on her
hips.  It has been interesting, in a sick sort of way, to watch her legs
deteriorate.  It started with falling up the stairs once in a while.
But hey, the wooden steps are sort of slick.  She managed.  Her hearing
went unless I yelled.  So we made up some sign language.

The walking became harder.  You can tell when she doesn't feel good
because that Chow Tail isn't curled up over her back.  And wagging.

We went to the Vet for meds.  Metacam.  Great stuff.  Then she
couldn't get down the stairs.  I gladly picked her up, 55+ pounds of Fur
Bag, and carried her out many times a day.  We went to another Vet and 
got another med to use with the first med.  A potent mix.  She learned 
how to get up the stairs by going sideways... one step at a time.  She 
learned that she can't go on the dining room floor because the wood is 
too slick for her back feet to manage.

We learned how to wheelbarrow around while I hold her up with my hands
on her belly.

All of the changes happened in steps... and the steps became closer and
closer.  Like going down a funnel is some sort of Alice in Wonderland
nightmare way.  And you know what is going to happen.

Suddenly, one Friday morning, she's dragging herself across the living
room carpet, legs straight back.  I didn't see that myself and by that
afternoon she's trotting (sorta) around the back yard.  But the next
day, Saturday night, she was laying on her bed in the living room and
just staring at me.  Like, "do something".

I upped her meds that night.  That helped some.


Wilma.  AKA:
  Wonder Dog.
  Queen of Dogs.
  Queen Bitch.
  Fur Bag.
  Fleabag.
  Damn Pest Waking Yer Ass Up In The Middle Of The Night Because She Has
  To Pee Or Just Go Bark At Shit Outside.
  Maker Of Farts In Her Sleep That Will Kill You In Your Sleep.

A Dog of Many Names.  Mostly though, simply, Wilma or Puppy.


Tuesday the 26th was a beautiful day for January.  Sunny and almost 70.
We went for a ride in the car.  She likes going for rides.  The almost
mile to the mailbox works if there is mail in the mailbox.  No mail?
She will stay in the car until pulled out by her collar.  Anyway, we
went for a ride and we looked at horses and cows and goats and stuff.  I
took the back road for the scenery.  We went to the Vet for our
appointment.  They had some kind of crisis going on or maybe they were
just behind.  I didn't care.  No hurry.  I've got my Wilma, she has me,
right?

Her tail curled up as the pain stopped.  While she went to sleep one
last time.


My heart is buried in the back yard with her.  Wilma no ka 'oi.

My puppy....



I'm not dealing with this very well.  At all.


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