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Goodbye, little buddy.
Nov. 25th, 2017 07:45 pmSo today we said goodbye to Puck.
We first met Puck when he was just a puppy grub (and going by the alias of Tucker). He was one of a litter of Corgi-Pomeranian mixes, and was a little odd (even for that bunch) from the start. I picked him up to play with him and he fell asleep. Nothing would wake him up; shaking him, playing with his paws, rubbing his belly. He just slept--until all the other puppies fell asleep and then he was ready to go. When we brought him home, we quickly discovered what a trickster he was and so learned his true name.
He liked to bark at the door to go outside, and after you'd come from the other end of the house to open the door, he'd sit there with a doggie grin on his face, turn around and leave, letting you know it was a great joke. Sometimes, I'd let he and Esme out into the garage and go out 30 minutes later to find that Esme couldn't get out because Puck had planted himself in the dog door, and was watching whatever it is that dogs watch in the backyard, not letting her out (note that Esme outweighed him by nearly 10 pounds). We called this activity (the sitting, not the blocking) "gargoyling".
Puck was clearly the brains of the outfit.
He was a great dog, whether he was playing in a pile of blankets, rocketing around the backyard or sleeping on the newly washed laundry, with a Corgi and Pomeranian mix of fur that made him look like a little Victorian gentleman with a full beard and immense muttonchops.
But back around mid-September, he had been diagnosed with Prostate cancer, and given about 30 days to live. So I guess that since we got almost 2 1/2 months we should consider ourselves lucky. I know we're lucky to have had him in our lives, but he wasn't even 10 years old and he's gone far too soon, so right now, I just don't feel all that lucky.
So goodbye, little buddy. There are many tears being shed into the large empty space you've left behind.
I know from painful experience that they will diminish in time.
Just as I know they will never cease completely.
We first met Puck when he was just a puppy grub (and going by the alias of Tucker). He was one of a litter of Corgi-Pomeranian mixes, and was a little odd (even for that bunch) from the start. I picked him up to play with him and he fell asleep. Nothing would wake him up; shaking him, playing with his paws, rubbing his belly. He just slept--until all the other puppies fell asleep and then he was ready to go. When we brought him home, we quickly discovered what a trickster he was and so learned his true name.
He liked to bark at the door to go outside, and after you'd come from the other end of the house to open the door, he'd sit there with a doggie grin on his face, turn around and leave, letting you know it was a great joke. Sometimes, I'd let he and Esme out into the garage and go out 30 minutes later to find that Esme couldn't get out because Puck had planted himself in the dog door, and was watching whatever it is that dogs watch in the backyard, not letting her out (note that Esme outweighed him by nearly 10 pounds). We called this activity (the sitting, not the blocking) "gargoyling".
Puck was clearly the brains of the outfit.
He was a great dog, whether he was playing in a pile of blankets, rocketing around the backyard or sleeping on the newly washed laundry, with a Corgi and Pomeranian mix of fur that made him look like a little Victorian gentleman with a full beard and immense muttonchops.
But back around mid-September, he had been diagnosed with Prostate cancer, and given about 30 days to live. So I guess that since we got almost 2 1/2 months we should consider ourselves lucky. I know we're lucky to have had him in our lives, but he wasn't even 10 years old and he's gone far too soon, so right now, I just don't feel all that lucky.
So goodbye, little buddy. There are many tears being shed into the large empty space you've left behind.
I know from painful experience that they will diminish in time.
Just as I know they will never cease completely.
