Know me, know my dogs

I never planned on being a dog person. We never had dogs much while I was growing up. Well, we had two pups that were part bird-dog and part black lab, but we didn't keep them long -- they kept getting out of the yard and barked at night. My mom is not a good sleeper and barking at night was not allowed. When I was a teenager, we got a dog that was mostly my little brother's dog (Duchess). She was an outdoor dog, and I didn't really have a relationship with her. When I got married, my husband was also generally against dogs.

One day, that same husband came home from work with a cute puppy. My boys, who were pre-teen at the time, were so excited. Then we took her to the vet for a check up and they said "What a nice-looking pit bull". She (Dixie) did not look like a pit bull. She looked more like the original Staffordshires, an almost black brindle coloring with a white patch on her chest and a white sock. After much soul-searching, we decided to keep her. I took her on walks and we played with her in the backyard. She was a totally outside dog.

One morning, she didn't come to the back door to greet us. Sadly, she had died sometime in the night. We were never sure why, although we think it might have been Parvo (they are apparently very prone to it, longer than other breeds). I had no idea it would affect me the way it did. I felt like I had let her down in some way -- I should have known she was sick, I should have paid more attention.

After we recovered from the shock and loss, one day the whole family went to the adopt-a-pet at the local pet supply store. There, in one of the cages, was a dog that reminded us of Dixie. She was small, a dark brown brindle coloring, and so friendly. The boys fell in love with her right away. When we talked to the staff there, they said "You will be keeping her in the house, of course". "Sure, I said", although we had never had an indoor dog.

We took Lucy home that day. She was a year-and-a-half old mutt with greyhound and Sharpei ancestry. My husband said she was a "fast wrinkle". She looked very unusual, with small greyhound feet and strong Sharpei muscles, lots of extra skin on her neck, wrinkles on her forehead and a black tongue. And a bad scar on her neck; about a 3/4 inch wide and four inches long. Nobody ever said where it came from.

Lucy was always a runner. If you left the front door open too long, she would take off -- and you couldn't catch her on foot. She loved to play fetch in the house, and would get so excited, she'd have to run as fast as she could through the house. She did stay in the house. She has a short, stiff coat and doesn't shed. She was housebroken and was pretty laid-back most of the time.

When Lucy was about 5 years old, a small tumor appeared on her right front leg. The vet removed it, but it was mast-cell cancer and had infiltrated the joint. So, we had radiation therapy for 6 weeks. Not only was I officially a dog person by then, but I spent several thousand dollars to prove it. It just seemed too mean-spirited to remove her leg (the only other option) on the basis of money. She recovered nicely and had no more problems.

A few years later, my son was dating a young woman who had a wallaby (a small kangaroo) for a pet. When she went to college, we let it live in our back yard. Lucy, who has always been aloof, didn't seem to notice it much. However, when they broke up and she took the wallaby away, Lucy went into a slump. She wouldn't eat. She whined at us al the time. We decided to get her a friend.

We found a dog from the same rescue group. He was also part greyhound, but mixed with Sheltie. He was about a year-and-a-half old, white with black spots, black ears, and a black eye mask. My son hoped he would make a good frisbee dog. So we brought him home. We named him "Lucy's Buddy". She was fine, started eating again, they became fast friend.

Lucy and Buddy have both been inside dogs, but not always for the best. They ate a couch and a love seat. I bought a second-hand couch and chair, both covered with leather, and they left it alone. So I finally broke down and bought a new leather couch and loveseat. She chewed a whole in the arm of the loveseat. I thought raising boys prevented me from having nice things, but this is worse. Oh well. Lucky for me, I'm not house-proud.

Early this summer, Lucy started limping on that same leg. I assumed it was probably arthritic, due to the old surgery. She's about 14 now, although she's still very active -- she killed an oppossum in May. The vet x-rayed it and said it might be cancer. It started forming a mass, which I hoped was swelling, but another vet checked it and he said osteocarcinoma. Over the past couple of months, it has continued to grow. Once she was no longer able to try to walk on it, the pain apparently let up. It is about the size of a grapefruit now, which -- on a 40lb dog with slim legs -- is a sad site.

The vet said that she would have about 6 months. I don't know if it is from when we first noticed it or from now or what. So far, it is just hard to look at. She's not very active, but she never has been. She can't use that leg, but she can still get up, go outside, eat, beg for a snack, etc. We'll just have to wait and see.

In the meantime, my younger son's dogs had puppies. His male chihuahua and female "Morkie" (a Matese-Yorkie mix) had three puppies on Memorial Day, while we were dog-sitting. The vet had said she was having a "false pregnancy". It's a good thing he's a friend of ours (classmate of our older son), otherwise I'd question his proficiency as a vet. The false pregnancy was three pups -- one black female (that didn't make it) and two light-colored males.

My son and his new wife could not afford to keep another dog, so they found a home for one of the two males. But they formed an attachment to the other one. So, given the impending demise of Lucy, we decided to keep the one pup, Ivan the Terribe. Now we are not only dog-people, we have a yippy little dog. Buddy is 70 lbs. Ivan is 4lbs. They've made friends, so we hope that Buddy will be able to recover from Lucy's loss easier.

That's the story of my dogs. For now, I've got Lucy and Buddy and Ivan -- one medium-sized old gal with a limp, one big hairy lay-about, and one tiny, fuzzy ball of energy.