roxy | A pretty good boy (Nov. 20, 1995--July 29, 2009)

Wednesday morning, around six, Mr R woke me up, told me something was wrong with Noel, or as I call him here, Elderly Puppy. He was on his side, panting horribly, unable to move. He looked so scared, poor thing. We made arrangements at an emergency clinic, and BG and Mr. R raced off with him.

Not long after, BG called me, crying hysterically, afraid for her dog. She didn't want to lose her baby. She'd had Noel since she was eight years old. She'd asked for a dog for Christmas that year, (hence Noel) but she didn't actually get him until two months later. Took me another two months before I realized why she called him Noel, heh. (i can be slow sometimes)

She loved him like crazy the moment she saw him,and she was the best puppy mom ever. I never had to take care of him, neither did Mr. R. She took his care so seriously. She got up early every morning before school to walk him, she fed him every day, she bathed him and brushed him. All that stuff kids swear they're going to do, she actually did. In return she got love, lots of love from him. My and the beloved got a crazy ass, pee on everything, sneaky, garbage eating, poop in the corners and bark like crazy at everything, hair shedding, sneak out the door when your back was turned, not answer to his name unless he was on a leash, lurk on the stairs in the dark, pain in the fucking ass dog.

Anyway, it wasn't long after talking to her, Mr. R called back and began to cry, so I did too, knowing bad news was coming. Noel's heart was failing, he was in a lot of pain, and BG made the choice to spare him that.

Noel might have been BG's baby, but I really, really, liked that dog. So did Mr. R. You kind of had to admire his sneaky ass thugishness. Such a little dog, such a big attitude. He could be sweet when he wanted to, he loved his treats, he loved getting groomed because that meant he could sleep on the TV room couch. He loved getting his belly rubbed. He'd jump in your lap if you sat on the floor, and flop to his back. He'd try to get people new to the house to invite him into rooms he wasn't allowed in...heh. Sneaky. And smart, he knew who the marks were.

Noel, you were a pretty good dog. We really loved you. I'll miss BG coming home and calling for you, "Noel, who's a good dog? Noel's a good dog! Yes he is! Yes he is!"

Eventually she'd notice us. You always came first. *G*

Noel after a haircut. He really loved getting groomed, and loved getting haircuts because every one made such a fuss over him.

My favorite picture of Elderly Puppy

A pretty good boy (Nov. 20, 1995--July 29, 2009)

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