I was all set to post a blog today about what comes after you’ve finished writing your novel, but another ending has taken all the wind out of my sails. Our wee blonde dog, Soozie, aka Pookie, lost her battle with kidney disease yesterday.
Princess Soozie Two-poo Dirty-paws left her worldly belongings behind and headed out on her new journey without us. She will be dearly missed here, but needed to go see what other adventures awaited her in a land where kidneys aren’t quite so important. She expressed her wish for deep dirty puddles to lay down in and minks to chase – she said squirrels would suffice in a pinch. I’m sure she’ll find both … and liver cookies, too.
But first, we suspect she’ll have to serve a short time-out for previous dog-infractions involving her teeth and people. Soon after that though, she’ll be guarding a new fence line and dutifully keeping intruders at bay. Thankfully, as a result of her extensive travels throughout Canada, the United States and Mexico, she barks fluently in both English and Spanish.
Molly, her half sister, has promised to pick up the slack in the ferocious-beast-in-the-car department and make twice as many dog nose smudges on every possible window surface. She’s also very grateful to Soozie for leaving all her treats behind.
We brought her and her half-sister, Molly, home as puppies in 2000. Soozie was never an “easy” dog, so it was a good thing she had an extra helping of cute. She was a Wheaten terrier and the runt of her litter. One of her many nicknames was “The Project” because despite the many and varied training approaches we tried, we never could break her of the habit of running and barking alongside anyone who dared walk, drive or bike along our fence. Ditto for getting her to step down from nuclear level in the car whenever she saw another dog, and ditto again for getting her to stop chasing anything that moved on four legs. She stopped when she grew tired of the game and not a moment before.
She never did understand her half-sister’s affinity for coming when called or fetching slippers. Roll-overs were below her station in life. Occasionally she’d do a pirouette, as if to say, “I could roll-over if I wanted to, but I choose not to.” On occasion she’d deign to beg for a cookie, but only if the cookie involved meat, salmon or poultry – preferably BBQ or smoked. Even then it was touch-and-go; she’d sniff what was offered and more times than not, walk away.
You were a dog’s dog, Blondie and we’ll miss you terribly.