I woke up today to find D has dug out all of our Scooter photos. In my grief I called him "my Scooter", when in fact, he was really M's. D carried him around like a baby his first 6 months. Scooter was devoted to my mom because she made him liver treats, fed him everyday. I washed and groomed him, doctored his eyes. When he had both back legs rebuilt, I hand-fed him and carried him up and down the stairs, stayed with him on the floor. When he had his surgery and I visited him in at the vet's, found him shivering in a cement kennel, I demanded that I could take him home that minute. Knowing I could not leave him there alone recovering, even for a couple of days. Reluctantly, the vet agreed me. With his expensive metal-plated back legs, we called him our bionic dog. Yesterday we were all very quiet here, in shock, I suspect. Mom and I decided not to vacuum up all of the "Scootie hair" that is a permanent addition to our carpet until later. Just let is all be for now.
Thank you all so very much for sharing your own losses and experiences, commiserating with me, giving Scooter a good send-off and having friends to welcome him over. I reacted so emotionally at the vet's office I was afraid they thought I was insane. After talking to my neighbor who said she had the same experience ... I don't feel so embarrassed at my outburst. And my S-I-L and spoke about her recent loss and with those conversations and your stories are letting me know that I am not an over-emotional crazy woman :) So for the record, I am adding some photos to remember our friend.
Santa delivered Scooter to us 12 years ago!
Matt is thrilled with his new friend. Admittedly, Scooter looks a little confused.
He really loved the snow.
And being with M doing anything.
Especially if there was a ball involved.
Seattle Sketcher, in book form
1 hour ago