Smokin’ Comment: Gerbils on Dogs
October 27, 2010 in Smokin' Comments
We haven’t had a Smokin’ Comment around here since the summer. Everyone loves a Smokin’ Comment, right? For any newbies , it’s our way of paying tribute to a particularly witty or wise comment by giving it its very own post. Today we honor gerbilsinlove for her very touching comment on fashionchallenged’s moving tribute to her beloved (and much-missed) dog, Eggs:
I don’t know who you are, but you have made me bawl like a big old baby. I had a dog like that, Casey, a once-in-a-lifetime dog. We got her from the pound outside of Jacksonville, FL, flea-bitten, tick-covered, full of worms and earmites, suffering from malnutrition and kennel cough, beaten down by humans. She became my soul mate, my best friend, my go-to to lean on every time I lost another pregnancy, when my depression overcame me, when the doctor said no babies for us, when they found the lumps in my breast. The vet found lumps in her, too, and we had surgery the same week. She was a smart-ass who fussed at me whenever I dared to correct her, but a star in her obedience classes, though “down,” the most submissive command, was something she fought me on every damned time. When the baby finally did come, she was incensed and never once acknowledged the baby’s superiority over her. Come to think of it, she never acknowledged anyone’s sway over her. Everyone loved her, and that was it should be, in her opinion – her fur was the softest of the soft, her face always friendly, her belly always ready to be rubbed.
Casey passed to wherever dogs go (I think she found my grandma, the animal lover) two and a half years ago, and I still cry almost every day. The vet came to our house on a beautiful Spring day, the day Casey let me know it was finally time, and we held her as she went. We have three other dogs, including her joined-at-the-hip companion, Abbey, a dog we found almost starved to death on the streets of Jacksonville, who is now 15 and still going. Our Katrina rescue, Skye, is the one who has come the closest to Casey, but no dog will ever be the same as her. Perhaps there is special playground for dogs like Eggs and Casey and they’ve found each other, the way certain people seem to gravitate toward each other in a crowded room.
My three dogs are nicknamed The Dog Train, as they never let me out of their sight; I don’t mind at all, as a house without a dog nearby just doesn’t feel like a home to me.