Farewell To A Faithful Companion...

I have put off writing this post for almost 2 weeks now.  Tomorrow it will be 2 weeks since we sent Finchy to the Rainbow Bridge.  Last Monday, his ashes came home.  It's not that I didn't want to write a tribute to him, it's just that doing so marks an end to an era.

About a year after we got the Chili Dawg, we realized he needed a companion to play with.  We began looking at animal shelters, but couldn't find the "right" companion.  Then, a co-worker mentioned that she knew of someone who didn't want their Boxer anymore and just wanted someone to take him off their hands.  We drove up to meet the dog, with Chili Dawg.  They seemed to get along pretty well, & as a bonus, they were pretty close in age- only 6 months apart.  And so, in pretty much the same manner as our acquisition of the Chili Dawg, we acquired Finchy, 2 pure bred dogs, both unwanted by their original owners, and both given to us for free.

We came to realize, early on, that Finchy had not had an easy life in his first year and a half.  His ears had teeth marks in them, he had a case of worms, he was terrified of thunderstorms and fireworks (he had been forced to live outside on a tieout- which for a Boxer with very little hair in IL, is not a good decision), and for the first year living with us, he was terrified of Ryan any time Ryan held a magazine or newspaper in his hand.  We tried to change his name, as the name Finch, didn't really appeal to us, but Finchy proved to be a stubborn dog and wouldn't come for any other name then Finch (or Finchy), and so we stuck with that name. 

Finchy was not the brightest Boxer.  Every spring, without fail, he would run into the screen door the first time it was there after the winter months were over.  We ended up having to replace the screen with pet screen, because he ended up going through it at one point.  He refused to learn the command, "lay down".  In order to get him to lay down, we had to say, "sit", and then "sit again".  Only then, would he lay down. 

He was the fastest dog I have ever met.  I refused to rollerblade with him, because I was afraid I would die.  Finchy didn't believe in pacing himself, like Chili Dawg would.  When we would take the dogs rollerblading, Finchy would take off like the devil was chasing him, and Ryan would get the ride of his life for the first half of the skate.  Then, Finchy would get tired, and Ryan would take the lead or end up carrying him home (yes, I am serious), while Chili and I finished it out- this is why it's good to pace yourself.  Finchy would chase a ball, squeaky toy, or frisbee until your arm gave out.  Then, he would bring it back to you until your other arm gave out, and he would still want to keep going.  He was the energizer bunny.

He was also the most sensitive dog that I have ever met.  He was a worrier.  He knew when Ryan was going out of town and would start to whine.  He knew when a thunderstorm was coming and would start to whine.  He was a worry-wart.  Whenever we left with Chili Dawg for the vet, he would whine and pace until we brought him home.  I think he knew Chili Dawg had cancer before we knew.

When Chili Dawg crossed the bridge, Finchy was lost.  He paced and he whined and he looked for his friend.  He turned gray fast.  I hadn't realized how quickly he turned gray until I looked at some pictures recently.  Finchy and Chili Dawg were like peanut butter and jelly.  You couldn't have one without the other.  They would lay with each other on the couch, or out in the yard, or on the floor.  It was hard for Finchy to move on without his brother.

When we got Buster, Finchy perked up a little bit.  He started to eat again and play again.  Some of the old spark came back, but Finchy was different.  Then, he got sick and the "c" word was mentioned.  I can't tell you how much I hate cancer.  Taking Finchy to the vet this last time and having him admitted for pancreatitis, Ryan asked me, "Do you think Finchy will come home this time?"  I wanted to be optimistic, but I wasn't.  When Ryan came home that Sunday after visiting hiim in the animal hospital, I saw it in his eyes too.  He knew Finchy wasn't coming home again, but we both wanted the last ditch blood test for Noah- who asked about him constantly. 

Monday night when we went to see Finchy for the last time.  He walked into the room and I could see it in his face.  His butt didn't even wiggle to see us (that's a signature Boxer move- sometimes called the jelly bean dance).  His nub of a tail moved just a bit.  He was panting heavily, because he hurt.  He couldn't figure out how to lay down, so Ryan helped him to lay down on the blanket they provided.  His legs were swollen and covered in strange bruises, and his abdomen was swollen.  We were told that they could send us to some specialists to figure out what was wrong with him, because they didn't know what else they could do.  Ryan and I didn't want to do that.  He was clearly telling us that he was hurting.  I told the vet that we wanted to end his pain, that it wasn't fair to let him suffer anymore.  We said our goodbyes to our special boy and then he was gone.  They let us stay with him as long as we wanted and then we went home. 

We had Chili Dawg for 8.5 of his 9.5 years, and we had Finchy for 9 of his 10 years.  I would like to think that Chili Dawg met him at the Rainbow Bridge and they are now back together again, the way they were meant to be.


Forever Running- 2009
 

Best Friends- 2011



December 2012

“Such short little lives our pets have to spend with us, and they spend most of it waiting for us to come home each day. It is amazing how much love and laughter they bring into our lives and even how much closer we become with each other because of them.”
― John Grogan, Marley and Me: Life and Love With the World's Worst Dog

My Heart...

"Mom, I thought we were going to work on getting Buster to sleep in my bed every night?" Noah asked last night (Noah desperately wants Buster to sleep in his bed with him at night). 

"We are, buddy, but Buster is sad tonight, so we are just going to leave him alone tonight," I said. 

"Is it because Finchy isn't home?" 

"Yes.  He misses Finchy." 

"I miss Finchy too.  When is he going to come home from the animal hospital?" 

"Ummm.  Finchy is pretty sick.  I am not sure if he is going to come home from the animal hospital." 

"You mean he is going to go to Heaven and be with Jesus and Chili Dawg?" 

"Maybe.  We don't know yet." 

"But I want him to stay!  I LOVE HIM!" 

"Finchy is in a lot of pain, though.  It would be selfish of us to ask him to stay with us when he hurts so badly, don't you think?" 

"Well yeah, but it will hurt us if he has to go away." 

"I know, but sometimes doing the right thing is hard and hurts even though it's the right thing." 

"I feel like my heart is breaking into pieces." 

And then Noah began to sob, and when I say sob, I mean a mournful sob that pierced my heart and broke it into pieces.  He wrapped his arms around my neck and cried and cried, while Ryan and I held him and cried with him. 

Today we find out the results of the last ditch blood test and make our decision about Finchy.  If you have an opportunity, please pray for Noah- he could sure use it.

Finchy...

We got Finchy when he was just over a year old.  Chili Dawg was lonely and needed a brother.  We checked out various animal shelters looking for the perfect match for him, and then one of my co-workers said, "I know someone who is giving away a Boxer for free.  The family doesn't want him anymore and he has to live outside."  We checked him out, and he seemed like a good fit for Chili Dawg.  We tried to change his name, but Finchy didn't feel like learning a new name.

When you look at Finchy, the first thing you will see is that he is skinny.  No matter what we try to feed that boy, he won't gain weight.  When we first got him, he weighed in at 45 pounds.  Now, at 10 years old, he fluctuates between 52-55 pounds (average weight for a male Boxer is 60-70 pounds) and that's a big weight gain for him!  The next thing you will notice will be his face.  Most people get intimidated by his face, because Boxers look mean.  They have a smushed in face.  That couldn't be further from the truth.  Finchy is a lover, not a fighter, although, when we first had Noah, Finchy did protect him from the "evil vaccuum cleaner" by getting in between the 2 of them.  Boxers are good family dogs, and Finchy loves our kids.  He would protect them if he ever needed too, but he loves them very much.

Chili Dawg and Finchy were inseparable.  If one of them went to the vet, the other would sit by the door until the missing one came home.  Finchy is a worrier, and he would whine and whine while Chili Dawg was gone.  When Chili Dawg crossed the bridge, Finchy waited by the door for several days waiting for Chili to come home.  He even went and looked for him in the garage.  It took a while for him to fully realize that his "brother" was not coming home.  He began to lose weight, and since he was already under weight, this was not a good thing. 

Rescuing Buster was as much for Finchy as it was for me.  Buster brought new life into our house.  Finchy started eating again, playing again, doing his "wiggle dance" again.  It seemed like smooth sailing for a little while.  On Halloween, Finchy turned 10, and he was still going strong.  He could still outrun any dog in our neighborhood- that boy is f-a-s-t.  Then he came down with pancreatitis and he slowed down a little bit.  Over Christmas break, he slowed down some more. 

Yesterday, I took him to the vet's and I didn't come home with him.  He was admitted to the animal hospital, and Ryan and I are unsure if he is even going to come home this time.  Our boy has gotten older, and while he has been a faithful companion to our Chili Dawg and to us, it may be getting close to our turn to set him free from his pain, and I am not looking forward to that.  It's been almost a year and half since we sent Chili Dawg to the bridge, and I remember I said, "I don't know how long Finchy will make it without his brother, especially since they are so close in age". 

So why subject myself to the heartache of losing another dog to yet another cancer?  Here are a couple quotes that explain my reasoning...

 "God has not changed his mind about the animals. He has made provision for them. In truth, they really are his animals and not ours. They belong to the one who created them and gave them life. They are merely on loan to us, and as inconceivable as it may seem, God loves them more than you and I ever could."
-- dog quote by Gary Kurz, Cold Noses at the Pearly Gates 

“A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself.”
― Josh Billings

“Such short little lives our pets have to spend with us, and they spend most of it waiting for us to come home each day.
It is amazing how much love and laughter they bring into our lives and even how much closer we become with each other because of them.”
― John Grogan, Marley and Me: Life and Love With the World's Worst Dog

 

From Last Year's Monkey-Butt Calendar



"It came to me that every time I lose a dog they take a piece of my heart with them. And every new dog who comes into my life gifts me with a piece of their heart. If I live long enough, all the components of my heart will be dog, and I will become as generous and loving as they are."
--Unknown

Mother/Son Dance...

"Mom, your lazy," said Noah.  Any normal day or week, I would have brushed off the comment, but Friday my response was instead to burst into tears.  Why, you ask.  Well, Ryan flew out of town Sunday afternoon.  Monday morning, Noah woke up having breathing problems.  I took him to the doctor, he had a respiratory virus.  Tuesday morning he woke up having even more difficulty breathing, but it was too late for me to call in, AND to top things off, I was being observed in my classroom by my new boss (Tino, man I miss you).  I called my co-teacher, and explained the issue, and she was quick to say, "Just do a half day, I can teach our afternoon classes." 

Anticipating that I would need to stay home on Wednesday, I wrote subplans.  Smart decision, because Tuesday night, Juli began to run a fever of 103.5 degrees, with a cough that hurt me to listen to her.  I was up with Juli, rocking her and trying to comfort her, until 4 in the morning on Wednesday.  Noah was starting to improve on Wednesday, so I planned on sending him to school on Thursday.  Juli's fever was still going strong at 103.5 degrees Wednesday night, and we spent another night rocking while she moaned and cried pitifully in my arms until 4 in the morning.  I took her to the doctor's on Thursday where our awesome pediatrician tested her for all strains of the flu (she was negative).  He determined that she had a nasty virus, but because of her febrile seizure almost 2 years ago, he was concerned that her fever wasn't going down.  He gave her some medicine in the office and gave us a cough medicine to help her sleep at night.  Thursday night went a little better, although her fever was still 103.  I only got up with her 3 times, BUT the Carbon Monoxide detector went off in between that- awesome, I know. 

So, by Friday night, I was on the ragged edge since I averaged 3.5 hours of sleep a night maximum, or as I told my co-teacher, "I'm on the slippery slope to insanity".  When Noah told me I was lazy, that was something I did not need to hear at that time.  We were preparing to go to the Mother/Son Dance at his school.  When we had signed up 2 weeks earlier to go, I had been excited, but at that moment on Friday, I was tired and would have rather gotten in my pj's and headed to bed.  Instead, I was moving a little too slowly for someone to get my shoes on to go to the dance. 

After seeing how upset he made me, Noah immediately apologized and burst into tears.  I knew he hadn't meant to hurt my feelings, but I had been overwhelmed by the week of being a single parent of 2 sick children and having very little sleep or adult contact.  We did go to the dance, and we had a pretty good time. 

When we got there, we were given 2 green bandanas to wear- when they called our color we could do the obstacle course.  Some of the mom's were complaining about "ruining their hair" by wearing a bandana, and Noah told me I didn't have to wear mine on my head like he was, but I told him I didn't care.  We had some dessert at the dessert table, got our pictures taken together by the photographer (Noah will get those later), and then we made our craft- a drawing that will be turned into a magnet.  Then, I dragged Noah onto the dance floor and made him do the "Cha Cha Slide" with me.  He ran around with some of his friends for a little while and then he came and found me and told me he was ready to go home because he was starting to wheeze.  Ryan took our picture when we got home that night- I look tired, but we did have a good time.

Ever Have A Month Like This...

Well, it's been a while since I have blogged.  Not on purpose or anything, we just can't seem to catch a break.  Christmas break came and went.  Ryan used up the rest of his vacation days for the year, and we had plans to take the kids to the museums downtown, show Noah Sue the Dinosaur, do some fun stuff together as a family.  Things don't always work out how you plan though.  On December 22, we were at my sister's house decorating Christmas cookies (Jaime and my mom had cut out over 150 cookies for all 5 kids to decorate- insane!), and towards the end of the night, Ryan turns to me and says, "my throat hurts".  My throat had started to hurt too, but I had been trying to ignore it, because just a day before I had threatened my classes with, "if one of you gets me sick for Christmas break, I'm going to give you an F on your final exam" (of course I wouldn't really do that, but they thought it was funny anyways).

The next morning, Ryan and I woke up miserable.  On the way home from church, Ryan stopped and picked up a bunch of sinus and cold and flu over the counter stuff for the 2 of us, and then just on a whim, picked up some cough medicine for Noah and Juli.  Things progressed, and as it turned out, I had it the worst, then Ryan, and then the day after Christmas, both kids woke up with it.  We had the respiratory flu at our house, and let me tell you, this flu bug is tough to shake.  The four of us were sick for basically the entire 2 weeks we were off, with me still being sick when it was time for us to head back to school.

I finally felt better about mid-week that first week back at school.  Ryan was, of course, out of town for the entire week.  That should have tipped me off on how the week was going to go.  On Wednesday, Juli woke up with a fever and said she wasn't feeling good (she never says that- ever).  It was way too late for me to call in sick, so I gave her Tylenol and sent her to day care (worst mother ever, I know).  I did check on her and she was running around and playing like a crazy lady.  I thought we had gotten through the "worst".  I was wrong.  On Thursday, right before we had to pick up Noah from school, Juli threw up all over herself and the floor.  I cleaned her up fast and then we booked it to make it to Noah in time.  I was hoping it was just a fluke.  After we got home, Juli proceeded to vomit every 45 minutes, and most of the time we were able to make sure she hit the garbage can, but I still was doing a lot of laundry.  I called in sick and after both kids went to bed I wrote my sub plans.  Just as I got into bed, Juli started to cry and call for me.  She had thrown up in her bed.  From that point on, until 3:30 AM, she threw up every 30 minutes.  About 50% of the time she gave me fair warning, so I could make sure I got the bucket, but we went through a lot of towels (I laid those over her pillow and sheets so I didn't have to change them every time), and I moved her to my room since we still have a toddler mattress and she could sleep on the floor next to my side of the bed.  I don't even know where the vomit was coming from, because I cut her off of food and liquids at 5 PM.  After 3:30, she let us sleep until 6 AM and then the vomiting began again.  Our washing machine got a workout.  I can't wait to see the water bill.  Around 11 AM, Noah said his head hurt, and then he threw up.  So, I called him in sick as well.  Fortunately, Noah only threw up twice and then just had the dry heaves with his sister for the rest of the day.  Ryan arrived home late that night- isn't that how it always works?

Last week, Ryan was home for the entire week, and things went fairly smoothly- minus the stomach flu hitting me at school (that was magical).  I got caught up on the sleep that I had been deprived of from when Juli was sick, and the kids were healthy again.

Today, we are off because of MLK day.  Because we didn't really get to do anything "fun" over Christmas break, I was going to take the kids to the Jump Zone in the morning for some fun in the bouncy houses.  Normally, Ryan also has this day off, but of course, he flew out yesterday afternoon for a trip.  This morning, Noah came and woke me up because his "chest hurt".  He was wheezing and had a bad cough.  Ironically, he was fine yesterday and today he is sick as a dog.  So, we spent the morning in the pediatrician's office while Noah did a breathing treatment and we got some medicine & some other meds so I can do breathing treatments with him at home for the next few days so he doesn't get bronchitis or pneumonia. 

I think it's my turn to go out of town.  What do you think?  Ever have a month like this?

A Letter To My Son...

Dear Noah,

You don't know this, but on Friday, December 14th, evil happened in our world again.  A man entered an elementary school full of innocent children and teachers and took away their innocence in a blink of an eye.  26 innocent people died that day.  20 of them children, ages 6 & 7.  When I heard the news, all I wanted to do was to get you and Juliana and hug both of you so very hard.

Later that afternoon, we went to pick you up from school.  When the bell rang, only 4 Kindergartners walked out.  I and some other parents started to look around.  Juli asked, "Where Noah?"  The next bell rang.  The 1st graders came out.  Still you didn't come out.  The next bell rang.  The 2nd graders came out.  Myself and some parents crept towards the door, my heart beat a little faster.  I knew you were there somewhere, but I NEEDED to see you.  A teacher asked, "Who are you waiting for?"  We said, "Kindergarten."  She said, "They already came out."  I said, "Not all of them."  She gave me a strange look and said she would go in and check.  She came back out with a boy from your class- his grandma was so relieved.  "Where's my son?" I asked.  "Where's Noah?"  "What kind of coat is he wearing?"  She asked.  I told her.  She went back in and came back with you.  Your class had a sub on Friday and you guys had gotten separated from the Kindergarten walker line.  You were waiting for an adult to come back and find you.  I hugged you so hard that you asked, "Mom, why are you hugging me so hard?"  I said, "Buddy, you have no idea what happened today.  Let's go home."

Today, one of the little boys who was killed will be laid to rest.  He shared your name: Noah.  He was 6 years old.

Noah, I want you and Juli to know that I love you so very much, and your Daddy and I will always do our best to keep you safe.

Love,

Mom

Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad!!!!

On this day, 40 years ago, my parents said, "I do."

 

And they are still in love today :-)

 

 

Happy anniversary, Mom and Dad!

 

(And yes, Mom, I stole these pictures from you- ha ha)