These are the lyrics I like to sing to her, to the tune of Norwegian Wood:
I once had a dog,
Or should I say,
She once had me.
She showed me her ears,*
Isn’t it good,
Snicklypud.**
* Or tail, paws, snout, whiskers…
**Or other terms of endearment ideally rhyming with ‘good’.
On the weekend it was Ochre’s 12th birthday; that’s 84 in human years. Long live the hound!
The family got her when I was in Victoria visiting nana (yes, at the now non-existent house). After the excitement of hearing the magical word “puppy” down the phone line, I got no sleep for the next three nights.
When I returned to Queensland I disembarked from the plane, collected my luggage, and waited for dad by the carousel, noting it was weird he hadn’t met me at the gate.
I eventually spied him hovering near the entrance, carrying a small backpack in front of him, the zip gaping open at the top. I strolled over and we hugged, but I wondered why he was being so quiet and careful.
He gave me a look of triumph, and gently placed the backpack on the ground. A brown and black puppy stepped gingerly out and looked up at me. I almost exploded with joy.
We drove home in the white van via the bakery, where we ordered 3 pasties, one each. No sauce for the dog, thanks.
She and I spent the next years together at home, sometimes in bed, sometimes on the couch, sometimes on a yoga mat on the verandah, sometimes eating sandwiches in the front seat of the second-hand car I bought to learn to drive in.
My photos are all in storage, so I don’t have any to hand of her as a small pup, but here’s one of her as a young thing that a lovely friend found for me when I was making a slideshow for the wedding.
And here’s a recent photo of her. Older, wrinklier, greyer, not the least bit wiser. She still likes a snooze with her front paws tucked under her.
I love that dog.
12 comments:
I'm all teary-eyed. My parents put down our family dog, Megan, Meg, Meggie, or as I liked to tease her, Megnificent, on Saturday. She was an old lady at 15 years old, surprisingly healthy except for the arthritis that had gotten the best of her, and made it difficult for her to even walk outside on her own. This last week my dad had to carry her outside to do her business because she just couldn't manage it on her own. A sad, especially painful last week for the old girl, but a long life filled with love.
Lee Ann, I'm truly sorry for your loss. I love that you called her Megnificent! I've emailed you, let me know if you don't receive it and I'll try again.
My Poppy became 12 in Feb, too. :-) It's kinda nice to know a dog at her age.
Megnificent is a cute nickname. I sometimes call her "Happy Poppy" and her smile grows bigger.
There's nothing like the love of a good dog. Yours sounds very special.
I love animals more and more - ever since getting my cat, she started it. Snicklypud is great.
what a BEAUTIFUL sweet dawg....she/he reminds me of our tigger....thanks for popping by mine in tanzania....which part of queensland are you in? my sister lives in mackay and i haven;t seen her in eight years and miss her so much! so sorry about your gran;s house..how tragic...the same thing happened to my grandpa;s house...in a sugar cane fire...everything gone gone....gone. love your blog! xxx janelle
Another large chunk of dog love here! And snicklypud is the perfect word - I am singing it to hound as I type... he approves.
I have enjoyed wandering through your blog, discovering more about your illness, the fires and your dad.
Thanks, I hope you'll come back soon.
Happy birthday to your lovely four-legged friend :)
Hi all, me here, finally replying. I'm trying to be better at the comments thing...but there's only so many functional minutes in a day!
Rachel, do you ever call her Poppy Puppy? Or Puppy Poppy? Or is it just me that thinks that's a good idea?
Barbara, you're absolutely right. There is nothing like it.
Signs, I always enjoy reading about your cat over at yours!
Janelle, so lovely to see you here. Eight years is a long time for you and your sister to be separated! There is cane farming in my district, so I can imagine the inferno that must have gulped your grandfather's house, how dreadful.
grrl+dog, I think we are kindred spirits with the dog love! Give hound a kiss from me.
Digitalesse, thanks! I'm enjoying your latest photo project. Doglet says thanks for the birthday wishes.
My cat turned 9 last week ... all of a sudden it seems much older. I'm writing to ask if it's OK to list you on the "bedridden bloggers" list on my http://bedbound.org/ website. I'm a bedridden blogger myself with ME or something similar, I live down in Melbourne :)
Cheers,
Ricky
Hi Ricky, nice to see you here. It's scary when they start to rack up the big birthdays, isn't it? At least cats usually live for a good long time. Of course it's AOK to add me to the list, your link's in my sidebar, though naturally I can't remember when exactly I added it. (The fog!)
What a wonderful post, one of the best I've read. Lovely Snicklypud! My beast is 84 in dog years, full of lumps and has the head of a goat, but he's so lovely. Yesterday he ran for a stick, then carried it triumphant all the way home - today he can hardly move. I may sing him a variation of your song.
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