Ok...my deciding to make Wednesday's my Remembering When day is starting to become a challenge. I have writer's block. LOL
But I do think it is good for me to channel parts of me and force myself to air out some memories.
I miss dogs in my life. When I was younger, I was always the one bringing home strays and feeding them under our back porch. My father would always get us dogs or cats, but one way or another they would pass on or move away to live with another family.
When my little brother (now to be officially known as Uncle P) was around 10 or so, my ex-boyfriend and I saw an ad in the newspaper for free puppies. We went to see them and they were these cute little black and brown little mutts that fit into the size of my hand. Every time I would put this one down to go for another one, he would keep coming back to me, so I said OK...I guess he's the one I want.
We wound up giving him to my little brother as a Christmas gift that really the whole family inherited. At the time one of my friends was married to a guy and they had nicknames of Pookie Bear for each other. I thought it was so cute and fitting to this cute little guy, so I announced to my family that was his name. My little brother at the time and my father kept saying Pooker Bear instead of Pookie so it stayed that way.
I was told by the family that gave us Pooker that he was part Doberman and part terrier (picture that one). He literally though was the most kind hearted, loving, kissaholic, loyal, sweet, and determined not to be housebroken dog in the world and he as I've mentioned before, was so in-tune to my mother's illness and became her guardian angel. My mother couldn't stand him (part of her illness). He would sleep under her bed and the minute she got up, he would be at her feet waiting to follow her wherever she went in case she would be in trouble. He would always protect her.
When I moved up to MA in 1990 I left him behind with my family but each time I would come home he would run like a jack rabbit all over the yard back and forth at lightening speed to let me know how happy he was to see me. He was just so awesome!
In 1995, within two weeks, we signed the purchase and sale on our house, got married, went on a honeymoon and nearing our one month anniversary knowing we would soon move into our house, I said....we need a dog. I always had one and I have so much love to give to them and they to me. Plus in our honeymoon state of mind, we figured that if we could handle parenting a dog, we would be the best parents someday.
Eric agreed but with a few stipulations. First he said if he was going to get a dog, it would have to be like his dog Juan that he had growing up. He loved him and he was very loyal. He was a German shorthair pointer. I knew nothing about breeds of dogs. I just knew that I wanted any dog, one that would love us unconditionally. He found an ad in the paper for puppies of the breed and they were $450. We had an appointment on Saturday March 17, 1995 (St. Patrick's Day) to go see them.
At the time Massachusetts used to send in the mail coupons for the daily lottery and that was one of the few times that we ever played. Eric played his birth date and the prize was $450 and it was two nights before we were going to see the puppies. It was luck....Irish luck.
We went to see them and again, there was this one that just stood out from the other 10. His owners were bragging about his father and mother saying there German names for us which at the time, Eric had researched and was very impressed. We had royalty in the family. The one we chose was already named Ringo and he was 4 months old. They named him because of the way his coloring and hairs on his neck came to a little star. Hence, Ringo Star...but shortened it to Ringo. I forget what his long German name was.
At the time, we had not moved into our house yet and were renting a log cabin. On the way home from the breeders, Ringo got sick in Eric's Blazer. We didn't close on our house until June 30Th (4 months after our signing our purchase and sale), so for those 4 months our little puppy pretty much destroyed our little cabin. I would call home from work to leave a message on our answering machine just so he could hear Mommy's voice and not be lonely. He was pretty good from his first night home, he never woke us up in the middle of the night to go out and would wait til the morning. He teared everything up in that cabin from Eric's grandmother's couch to the rug in front of the fireplace, to my shoes and my underwear in the laundry basket. He never touched Eric's underwear only mine? LOL
When we moved into our house, we were determined to get him to training school and we did, but we didn't do that good. In hindsight, I think once you have a hunting dog, you have a hunting dog. If you live on a lake, with squirrels, birds (although he like the squirrels better), cats etc., it's all game to him and anyone holding a leash or trying to keep him tied up is just fooling themselves. I wished we had a fence then (as I do now with Matthew) just for safety and sanity sake. Ringo wound up being probably the only dog in our town, who had the cops looking around our neighborhood with us at midnight. He was a wanted dog...running through neighborhoods and state property like a bandit not giving up without a good 8 hour fight. Eric was so much better training him then I was but in my defense, when he would pull on that leash, I was going with him. Eric is stronger than me physically, and he is just better at getting up and going.
For as much as Ringo was a little troublemaker/he was also our best friend, our baby before Matthew. He wound up being my cuddlebum (who has now been replaced by Matthew). When Eric would get up in the morning to go to work, literally as soon as he heard the shower, he would hop up under the comforter next to me and put his head on Eric's pillow and sigh. Eric would come out and look at him and he would have this way about him like he had such a sense of humor, looking at Eric for a second like what took you so long to get out of my spot? And then would sigh again and put his head down...and look back at me with his head twisted back just enough that I could snuggle into his neck.
In 1997, my father wound up having to move to a place that wouldn't accept dogs. There was no question, Pooker was coming up with me, before he would ever go to someone not in our family especially after his loyalty to my mother.
We were a little worried about Ringo having to share things and at first it was funny how they would watch each other eat out of there bowl, before eating there own food. But after a few years they wound up being like brothers who loved each other.
There are so many more wonderful memories that I could literally just keep typing all day about them, but Matthew needs me so I am going to just say one more thing.
Pooker passed away in June 2003 after many months of kennel cough and heart problems that he never recovered from. That was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make. Putting him down.
Ringo passed away when Matthew was just 18 months old Labor Day Monday 2004. He had a tumor on his kidney and he had also had lupus/dysplaysia and while we were deciding to make the decision to put him out of his misery, he had a heart attack right in front of our eyes, while I was holding Matthew in the Vet's emergency room. He made the decision for us, because he knew how much we loved him. He made it easier for us, but oh...how we still ache for him.
Pooker I think I had accepted easier because he was older and had lived a long, hard and loyal life. Ringo was "our baby" that we chose. He was never supposed to not be there. Even though and I still regret and have so much guilt of all the times when I said, oh! That Dog is a pain in the you know what when he would bark so much or have accidents in the house!!
But now.....it's too quiet. There is a whole, a void with them gone. Matthew replaces so much of that whole, but this is different.
I think I have grieved long enough over them, now I want to move on with another dog. One for my only child to play with and have as his best friend, one that he can learn responsibility and now that mommy is wiser and has been through life's cycle, can do it with more wisdom? less distraction and not to mention that for the times when Eric isn't here, this house is too big, we need someone to bark off intruders. Maybe not a 75 lb one, maybe just a littler one with littler messes and less hunting skills.
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