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Mar. 13th, 2011 05:34 pmSo. My dog.
Rosie the Wonder Corgi is, obviously, a corgi and thus is subject to the kind of hip and spine problems that plague long, low dogs. A few months ago, her back legs started acting funny and now one of them barely works at all. So we've been having conversations about what's best to do. It's not something we can actually fix and watching her flop around is sad. She's not in pain, as far as we can tell, but her mobility's really limited. Mom's been trying to find somewhere that will take her (we don't want to put her down because she's not sick or anything - she just can't really walk) and today contacted the breeder we got her from. Turns out, the breeder is willing to take her.
And that's really the best solution, because the breeder'll know what to do and there'll be other dogs for Rosie to play with and Rosie will be reasonably happy there. But, just. My dog. My goofy, barky, ridiculous, nuisance, weasel-dog. My best girl. No more seeing her at the foot of my bed first thing in the morning. No more cuddling with her on the stairs. No more watching her roll over the moment I start petting her to beg me to scratch her belly. No more watching her run away from the ironing board, or try to herd me away from the phone. No more stupid doggy grin that says, "I'm quiet now but you know that as soon as you get settled and start knitting, I'm going to bark my fool head off." No more knowing that if I let my arm dangle over the side of any chair, in a few minutes there's going to be a little furry head right there, waiting for scritches.
God, I love my stupid dog. I'm going to miss her so much.
Mom's emailing the breeder to see when we should drop Rosie off. If all goes according to plan, it'll probably be next Sunday. It's the best of all bad choices and I know that but, still. I'm going to go cuddle my dog and be sad now.
Rosie the Wonder Corgi is, obviously, a corgi and thus is subject to the kind of hip and spine problems that plague long, low dogs. A few months ago, her back legs started acting funny and now one of them barely works at all. So we've been having conversations about what's best to do. It's not something we can actually fix and watching her flop around is sad. She's not in pain, as far as we can tell, but her mobility's really limited. Mom's been trying to find somewhere that will take her (we don't want to put her down because she's not sick or anything - she just can't really walk) and today contacted the breeder we got her from. Turns out, the breeder is willing to take her.
And that's really the best solution, because the breeder'll know what to do and there'll be other dogs for Rosie to play with and Rosie will be reasonably happy there. But, just. My dog. My goofy, barky, ridiculous, nuisance, weasel-dog. My best girl. No more seeing her at the foot of my bed first thing in the morning. No more cuddling with her on the stairs. No more watching her roll over the moment I start petting her to beg me to scratch her belly. No more watching her run away from the ironing board, or try to herd me away from the phone. No more stupid doggy grin that says, "I'm quiet now but you know that as soon as you get settled and start knitting, I'm going to bark my fool head off." No more knowing that if I let my arm dangle over the side of any chair, in a few minutes there's going to be a little furry head right there, waiting for scritches.
God, I love my stupid dog. I'm going to miss her so much.
Mom's emailing the breeder to see when we should drop Rosie off. If all goes according to plan, it'll probably be next Sunday. It's the best of all bad choices and I know that but, still. I'm going to go cuddle my dog and be sad now.
