Andrew's last ride; a dog story.

Been the better part of sixty years back when Dad and I loaded old Andrew into the basket of my silver painted pre-world war two bicycle.

Andrew and I rode down U.S. Route Five into the village where we crossed onto U.S. Route Twenty West to the Vet's office. I had to push the bicycle up the very steep and long Route Twenty hill and from the top of the hill we rode another mile or two did old sick Andrew and me.

Soon the Vet had finished his job. Doc. Fritz loaded Andrew back into the bicycle basket and Andrew and me we flew like the wind down the steep Route Twenty hill.

Back up home on Route Five I buried old Andrew deep and safe in the hard ground near the edge of the cliff over looking Lake Erie.

I do not remember the tears then. Might be I saved them for today.

180

:cry:

:spank: 180...

you have kind eyes.

180

...with "last" and "dog" in the subject line? I knew it would be a sad tale of the loss of a beloved pet, which I don't need right now.

I just can't help it. Love them doggies.

all have some similar stories to tell. I buried my first cat (who stayed with me for my first 16 years) under a big walnut tree upon a hill.

all animal lovers suffer the loss of pets and then we replace the lost pet with a new pet and the cycle continues and the tears flow.

I could tell a similar story about the many pets I (and we owned) over the many years.

Andrew sticks in my mind.

180

a few days after her death.

Love endures.

Peace & strength to all of us with tears right now. Smudge showed it was OK to go forward when the time comes.

...to bury his little buddy, Sadie Six Toes, under her favorite cedar tree in our old back yard.

Sadie was a stray that came with a house my parents bought. The previous owners said she couldn't be tamed, but we somehow managed it. She tolerated my mother, my sister and myself, but she was Dad's cat.

I still catch him crying from time to time because he misses Sadie so much.

so sweet and so sad. :hug: 180, thanks for sharing.

She has been pestering me to go for a walk for the last hour.
Looks like she'll be getting her wish granted. Thank you for that post oneighty, Karma will get an extra big hug from you too.

I cannot have animals anymore so I have to visit with those I once had. There are many to visit with; cats dogs and ponies.

A hug for 'Karma'

180

Tummy rubs are a very important aspect of her life.
Karma's story:
Karma is a red nosed female pitt-bull.
Her first year was particularly tough, the owner wanted a "fighting" dog and he kicked and beat her often.
Karma, escaped this owner only to get run over by a car near a Safeway store.
She dragged herself, broken and bloody into the parking lot and under a parked truck.
That truck belonged to my neighbor and best friend Debbie.
Debbie spotted Karma and coaxed her out from under the truck and got her into the back.
She drove to a nearby vet and spent the initial $1500 to save Karma's life.
She searched for the owner, even put up "found" posters, she hoped for a little re-reimbursement.
Meanwhile Karma stayed at her house.
Karma was fine around Debbie, came to get along fine with Debbie's kittys, (Scooby and Sassy), but she was deathly afraid of men.
Whenever I came over it took quite a bit of coaxing to get Karma to come out of the bedroom.
Eventually I was able to pet her but if I got my face too close she would skitter away, ears back and tail between her legs.
Debbie did track down the original owner but by that time Debbie was not about to give Karma up.
The guy was a creep who felt beating pitt-bulls was the way to let the dog know who is boss. (Did I mention he was a CREEP?)
Karma hated being tied up in the back yard while Debbie was away.
She would bark often and frequently found ways to escape.
I am retired so I started sharing my time with Karma.
In the winter months Debbie would bring Karma over to my house before going off to work.
Karma loved this because I would set a few "treats" out for her in ever changing locations.
A pitt-bull on an "easter egg hunt" is quite a spectacle: "gangway or else"
Karma got fat.... (blame me).
Debbie, wise lady that she is bought a third home and was forced to move there for 2 years.
There was no fenced back yard so I now have Karma until that gets fixed.
It has been a year now, Debbie still has not gotten around to fixen' that fence.
I told Debbie yesterday that "Surely you can find more important things to spend your money on than a stupid fence."
Debbie knows that Karma is her dog, she knows I won't stand in the way
if needs-be.
Karma knows who gives the best tummy rubs.
We have cut back on the treats to one pigs-ear per day.
Karma's muzzle is now grey and she is still fat.
Karma is a very happy dog now.

Your story of your dog makes me appreciate Karma even more.
Just so you know...
c

Karma's tummy just so and giggle when her leg makes scratching motions? Hee hee hee. That is a mean thing to do you know.

I cleaned out the wound in the belly of a rattle snake struck dog. But that is another story and another dog.

180

Every dog I have ever known had a juker spot.
Different locations on different dogs, but they all come with one.
;-)

I did not know the spot had a name.

I do now

180

Tummy rubs happen at random about 4 or 5 times a day. Walks are once or twice per day and treats (pigs ears) are once per day. She is an indoor dog but has a doghouse and a nice fenced yard which she keeps free from squirrels and kittys. I think she gets enough attention. Some would say that she has me well trained, I say there is nothing wrong with making a fellow creature's life as happy as I can.

Through tears.

Beautiful story and a beautiful thread. Thanks.

180

My dear 180......this is such an eloquent, yet simply put story...

I thank you. :cry: :hug:

All dogs go to heaven.

180

The one sitting on my lap is my 4th. Her name is Lida.

She came to us when I already had two dogs, and my daughter was in the midst of depression. (I adopted her at age 9, after she'd lived in foster care for 4 years, and after years of abuse and neglect.) In trying to help her move out of depression I was encouraging her to volunteer. We went to the humane society. Walking into the puppy room, a volunteer was holding a little puppy who wouldn't stop shaking. As we visted, she put the puppy back in her cage, and the puppy moved to the farthest corner of the cage and kept shaking. I went on to another room. A bit later I came back in the puppy room, and there was my daughter, holding the puppy who had stopped shaking hin her arms. She looked at me and said. "I know how this puppy feels, it's like I felt when I was waiting to be adopted." We took the puppy home.

Lida became my dog. As I worried about my daughter's depression, Lida would sit on my lap, though she's about 5 pounds too big for that. And she'd jump up on the couch next to my daughter and sit and stare at her, until my daughter would take her in her arms and hold her close.

My daughter is doing o.k. now. And this dog still sits on my lap and sleeps, and sits next to my daughter and stares.

I don't think I would have made it through, without that dog on my lap.

the wet nose and the busy tongue cures many ills. Puppy breath too is sweet and distracting.

180

It isn't often that a writer can tell an entire story, with such visceral precision, and bring me to tears in a half dozen sentences or so. In fact, I think you may be the first.

What a lovely tribute to Andrew. How lucky he was to have you.

Thank you for sharing your gift of writing, and your Andrew, with us.

Peace.

Your kind words encourage further efforts.

I appreciate it.

180

Knowing that, we cherish the years we are given as a gift. The life cycle of these precious creatures is too short and that is a hard lesson. And we take in new friends, but we can't replace our old friends. We make a new place in our heart. I have the ashes of my precious friends to keep with me as consolation, feeling privileged to have had them in my life albeit for too short a time.

I liked Mose and me too. Thank you.

R.I.P. Andrew. :cry:

You have real literary talent. Thank you! :hi:

I feed on encouragement. Your comments are appreciated.

180

My parents held the news for months. Herman was my Autauga County, Alabama, bar-ditch rescue mutt from 1958. Dad named him after Herman Goering (a son-of-a-bitch), because Dad hated "Krauts." Dad was wounded in Italy by German forces, and later captured. He was in a POW force-march behind German lines in Italy, when they were strafed by a pair of Luftwaffe ME-109s (friendly-fire accidents do happen!). Some of the American prisoners and German guards were killed. Dad escaped.

Sweet Sirius passed three months ago. In my arms at the vet clinic. That is still tough for me. At least I still have Nick-Nick.


Sweet Sirius (7/25/1993 - 8/25/2005)


Nick-Nick (7/14/2003 .. our arbitrary "birthday" for our Canicula de Bastille, another sweet, sweet dog).

For you my friend.

180

I needed that!

Mac


Sweet Sirius a few days before he died.

Thank you. It helped.:toast:

:cry: That is a touching story, and I agree with the post above - it's amazing that you tell it so well with so few words. Thank you.

His name was Top. We picked him up in Houston the year we moved to Texas (1958), and since we were only four and a half years apart in human years, we grew up together. During the summer of 1973, I made my first foray into the great world; my adventure; my quest. I drove from Boston to Nacogdoches, Texas, without much thought of what ws happening back in Boston. I stayed most of the summer, returning onloy toward the beginning of the school year. My friend, who had seem me through my hardest times, the divorce, finishing high school in an environment alien to me, and my freshman year at BC. My friend who let me know when it was time to quit studying for the night and get some sleep, so he could go to bed too, was no more. Top was 15. He taught me many things, not the least of which was how absorbent dog fur can be, when subjected to human tears. My mother did not tell me that he was gone until I returned from my adventure, though we spoke many times on the phone. He died in June, and I came home in August.