Pets on my Mind

Look at those darling eyes, ringed in black eyeliner like Cleopatra. When she wags her tail her whole body wiggles with glee.

When you go to pet her she flops over so you can scratch that adorable, silky belly.
She likes to snuggle like a baby, in the crook of your arms at night.

But make no mistake, underneath that coppery fur lies the heart of a killer. She stalks her prey like a cheetah, not moving a muscle until she skulks a little closer. I tried to save a mouse from her little jaws once. Came close but the beagle leapt like a flying squirrel and caught the wee thing. It was dead in a second.

She loves when birds nest. She just hangs out underneath the nest. La la la. Nothing to do. Life is good. Wait, is that a baby bird trying to learn to fly? Did it just fall onto the ground? Is that the circle of life? Nope, it's lunch.

Since I've gotten the dog door, she pokes her head out like a mole to make sure there's nothing out there, some frog, locust, squirrel, chipmunk or other thing smaller than her that needs to be stalked and killed. Tell me about your killers. My cat friends regale me with tales of kitty killers. Any way to stop them.

Here's my pet column about Tipper and finally a picture of Betty, the guardian angel at Dixie Memorial.

Years turn furry ball into aging old friend
There's a moment when you know; when you've spent months hammering pain pills to dust to mix in food, when going down even one step looks like torture, when the panting never stops and sleep never comes.
That was the last night for my dog Tipper. Her 14-year-old body was just giving out. No amount of acupuncture or drugs could stave it off. I had to let her go.

She was the first and last puppy I will ever own as an adult (too much work, too much energy). She was the cutest puppy in a litter born under a house in June 1993 in Harbor Town. A furry ball of white and brown who cocked her head sideways when you talked to her and fell asleep in a plate of food after eating too much. She whined when we took her from her mother, so we kept her too. Named the mother Molly.

We wanted to name our puppy after a strong woman, but Hillary, the name of the first lady at the time, seemed too stuffy for a chubby girl with a speckled belly. We picked Tipper Gore.

Tip Tip for short.

She zipped and zoomed around her back yard for most of her life with Molly She slept on our bed in the winter. She gnawed my sofa cushions, shredded a telephone book and begged for ice chips. Spoiled pup who never spent a day away from her mother.

She barked a lot and annoyed my neighbors. We didn't know how much until a routine X-ray showed her body full of BBs.

As they got older, both of them began sleeping more and playing less. Molly began deteriorating a few years ago. We worried how Tipper would make it without her.

After we put Molly to sleep, Tipper became a loner. She hated my dog Tommy but tolerated a yellow lab named Jack. She wanted to go on walks, but she began walking with a pronounced limp.

Her favorite pastime became riding in the car. I loaded her up as often as I could and would drive her around. She hated the summer when she couldn't go.

I was the character Hoke in my own movie about chauffeuring an old Southern woman around:

Driving Miss Tipper.

The medicine and acupuncture helped for a while. There were days when she would frolic and run a little. But the bad times got worse. She paced around and panted at night. Her body ached. She didn't eat much. It was time.

Her acupuncturist, Dr. Kathy Mitchener, said she would come to my house to put her to sleep, a perfect Saturday with blue skies and a breeze. But I didn't want it to be there, amid the chaos of the other dogs.

So I took Tip on one last ride, a long one to Millington to Dixie Memorial Pet Cemetery. I fed her a pound of roast beef and hot dogs. My sister and niece came too. My husband was out of town.

When we got there a skinny, old pit bull with sagging teats greeted us. Her tag said her name was Betty. She licked Tipper.

I spread a blanket under a tree and Tipper hobbled over and laid down. Betty tucked herself against Tip and the two of them took a nap in the breeze.

Barbara Wells, the cemetery's owner, said Betty wandered up a few weeks ago, starving, heartworm positive, bred nearly to death. The staff fell in love with her, called her Ugly Betty. Wells shortened it to Betty. The dog became Dixie's guardian angel. She quietly and politely greets visitors and sits by them when they visit graves.

After Mitchener and her daughter, Sarah, arrived, we talked awhile like we were on a picnic. I kissed Tipper a million times and told her I loved her. I thanked her for her years of companionship, for always being my friend.

The vet put a tiny butterfly needle in Tipper's vein and gave her a sedative. Her sleep became deeper. Betty got up and came around behind me and tucked her body into the back of my knees. She put her head on my leg.

Tip took one breath after the last shot and was still. It was done. She was cremated at Dixie, and I will scatter her ashes and Molly's in their back yard.

It was the last gift I could give to a dog that had been a gift to me for her whole life.

I'm sorry I haven't blogged lately. I've been on vacation and had some major changes. I had to put to sleep my dog Tipper. She was 14 and in a lot of pain.

My pet column tomorrow will explain more. This is a picture taken by animal photographer Peggy Foster of Tipper (left) with her mother Molly. Molly died a few years ago. Here is a story written in July 1993 about Molly being protective of her pups.

THE COMMERCIAL APPEAL
Date Thursday, July 29, 1993
Headline ELUSIVE CANINE GUARDS PUPS FROM WORKERS

Source By Wayne Risher The Commercial Appeal
A mother dog, protective of her seven newborn puppies, held construction workers at bay for two days last week before Harbor Town workers removed the dogs from beneath a home.
The mixed-breed dog was later reunited with her puppies when Stephanie Wolf, an employee of The Commercial Appeal, agreed to care for the dogs until the puppies are ready for adoption.
Harbor Town resident Pat Murphy said the wily mother dog had lived on Mud Island for more than six months, evading capture by moving from house to house and living beneath construction dumpsters.
The dog lived on scraps left by construction workers and food set out by neighborhood residents, Murphy said. The dog, a stray, became pregnant after a neighbor's dog got loose when the stray was in heat, she said.
The mother dog had her puppies July 17 in the crawl space beneath a house that is under construction on Harbor Bend.
"She went under the house and came out 10 pounds lighter, " Murphy said.
Tony Babb, owner of the house, said construction was delayed for a day and a half after an electrician came to turn on power for his central air- conditioning system. "She kind of got after the electrician and wouldn't let him get out of the truck, " Babb said.
Babb said he tried to retrieve water hoses from beneath the house and the dog "chased me back into the house."
Harbor Town workers set a trap for the mother, placing a cage outside the opening to the crawl space.
A maintenance supervisor, Nancy Wright, said the dog was lured into the cage with a piece of luncheon meat.
After the dog and puppies were removed July 21, Wolf volunteered to keep them.
She said she has a soft spot in her heart for stray animals and has kept several at her Midtown home until permanent homes could be found for them.
Murphy lamented that the dog had apparently been dumped at Mud Island by a former owner.
"She wasn't a bad dog - someone just dumped her here. I knew when she had the puppies, it would be the end for her. She couldn't be moving from house to house. She was vulnerable, " Murphy said.

Okay,
So I finally broke down and had a dog door installed to my back yard. It took my dogs about 5 minutes to figure out how it works. I love that they can go in and out now whenever they want. I thought it would be a good idea to leave the door open during the night so they could go out if they needed to.

Bad idea.

I was awakened by the sound of Tommy in the middle of the yard barking furiously at something, probably a raccoon. I'm sure my neighbors appreciated my dog out there barking at 3 a.m. and the sound of me standing at the door hollering for him to come in. He wouldn't. So I finally slipped on my husband's golf shoes, the closest things and clomped into the back yard and got him. Good thing my neighbors don't have video because it was a site to behold. So now the door stays shut.

I'm wondering about other people's experience with a dog door. My friend Jennifer's cat likes to go hunting and bring live animals into the house, chipmunks and birds are his favorite. Tell me about dog door pit falls you've experienced and any tips you have. I can use them.

The bag runs on a pulley that zips around an obstacle course. The dog chases it like it's a wild rabbit. My friend Linda talked me into bringing my Tommy Boy to it. She said he would love it. I always worry about him in crowds. He's a monster dog and I don't want him mistaking one of those Jack Russells for a Jack rabbit. But I brought him.

That dog ran like a thoroughbred. His eye focused on that plastic bag and he took off like a rocket. He ran through chutes, cleared an A-frame and jumped through a tire. He was magnificent.

Took Jack and Tommy to a lake. These boys love to swim. They look like the last scene of Jaws swimming to shore holding on to their toy. I'm going to try to put a picture on my site of them. I'm new to uploading pictures so bear with me.

Well Jack has become quite a force in my house. He's so sweet and gentle. All he wants is to give kisses and put that little face on my shoulder. He also likes to romp with Tommy and wear him out. That's the best thing that he does. I left them in the house yesterday because it was raining. Big mistake. They made such a mess. I barely have a sofa left. I will be washing the slipcover tonight. They are so funny how they play. I'm hoping that they will continue to be best buddies. Tommy gets a little rough with him but Jack seems to hold his own.

Jack and Tommy' antics have helped get my mind off of Molly. I have her picture on my desk at work, on my computer wallpaper, just about everywhere. I miss her and I wish she were still here. She gave my life so much joy and I feel lucky to have known her. I'm still in such a funk over her death. I need to start exercising again, but between my sadness and the weather, I need someone to smack me in the head and get me out of this rut. I guess it all takes time.

I picked up Molly's ashes yesterday and her collar. Dixie Memorial did the cremation. They are so nice. It was tough getting my little box of ashes and her collar. I still can't believe she's gone. She's been such a big part of my life for 12 years. I say her name all the time. Well I say Mookie Bear, which is what I called her more than Molly. It was strange that as I was bringing home Molly's ashes, I was also bringing home a new dog, a yellow lab named Jack that I adopted from the Collierville Animal Shelter. He's really for my other dog Tommy, who has just been dying for a dog to play with him since Molly and Tipper rarely looked his way, unless it was to growl at him.
He's certainly not a replacement for Molly. Nothing can replace that dog. But my heart can still be broken and I can still grieve while I open my home to another dog. He actually makes me laugh and his sweetness and affection is so needed in my household right now. We're all walking around like someone lopped off one of our arms (or paws) so Jack is a nice distraction for us.
We'll probably bury Molly's ashes this weekend under her favorite bush. Dave wanted to put Molly's collar on Jack, but I didn't. That's hers. Dave sees it as passing down a legacy. I guess I'm funny about that. I only want that to be Molly's collar. We'll see.