since The Butter died and I've cried every damned day.
Thank God for Ambien. I seriously think I would have had a nervous breakdown if I hadn't been able to get some sleep. At times I almost feel guilty for eating.
I'm very reluctant to get any fast food since there is no one to share it with. The Butter loved french fries. She wasn't particular about the place, either. McD's, Wendy's, BK - she didn't care. She liked them all.
And she loved fish, too. I thought that was rather odd for a dog but sometimes she behaved more like a cat (the yoga thing, for example) so I guess it's fitting she loved her fishy-fish.
So if I stopped anywhere and got anything she always got to sample it. (Now don't tell the vet that but I just couldn't resist that little fangy ? face she would give me). Everyone SAYS she was spoiled but that's just because they never meet The Creature. HE is spoiled. Molly was just on her way to being spoiled but Wheeze is already there.
Dad wants me to get another one and I have considered it. I've even found a Peke rescue in the area that I've been eyeing. I absolutely will get another rescue dog. No question.
Also, one of the ladies I work with has a "friend of a friend" who works at a vet's office and apparently they have a lot of connections for abandoned animals so I might ask her to keep an eye out for a Peke for me.
I'm a little partial to Pekes because I love them. And not everyone can have one (or stand one, truth be told). Most of them don't like kids and some of them can be very protective and VERY particular. Not like hounds or labs or spaniels (altho I would love a pack of hounds or a Cavalier spaniel). Just about anyone can be a "big dog" to them because of their easy natures.
So there it is. I want another one - maybe two (Molly was supposed to come with a companion who ironically died before I could adopt her) and I want one from a rescue.
I think I'm still mourning Aunt Bea and Uncle Barry as well. And Kim. Sometimes it just seems like I can't stop crying. The only thing that seems to help me not cry is to exercise. As odd as that sounds it makes me feel a little better anyway. Just pedaling that bike or doing some weights seems to help me stop crying and at this point, I don't care what works.
I'd like to skate but my heart just isn't in it (as sad as that sounds). Maybe because skating makes me happy and I don't feel like I *should* be happy since The Butter isn't here.
And this FUCKING FUCK SNOW isn't helping anything. My God, I HATE this SHIT!!! FUCK! I'm so fucking sick and tired of this fucking snow. I'm sick and tired of wearing a fucking coat and 10 layers of clothes so I don't freeze to death.
I'm sick of fucking boots and fucking climbing up on the roof to clean off the dish. I'm sick of fucking hat head, long underwear and building a fucking fire every fucking night so I don't freeze my ass off.
FUCK I've got cabin fever. I swear if someone built a snowman, I'd shoot the fucker (the snowman, not the builder). DEATH TO SNOW!!
I'm sick of fucking shoveling the fucking driveway every fucking day. Of not being able to reach the fucking mailbox because of the fucking 5' drift in front of it. I'm sick of hauling wood, dumping ashes and dragging snow all over the house. FUCKING SICK OF IT.
It needs to STOP NOW. Immediately. We have all agreed we hate it and we're sick of it so KNOCK IT THE FUCK OFF!!
It's as if the weather is just as fucking miserable as I am. Fuck. That's all I have to say.
Oh, maybe I'll tell you what I've been reading. In case you're looking for something to keep you busy while you're fucking snowed in!
The Jewel of the Seven Stars by Bram Stoker. About an Ancient Egyptian Queen's bid for resurrection in early 20th century England. Very gothic and just absolutely seething with Victorian morals and language. I rather liked it and had forgotten how much I enjoyed that style of horror novel.
Murder of a Medici Princess by Caroline Murphy. Something I would normally devour but I just haven't been in the mood. Non-fiction history.
And, of course, my old standby-fall-back-what-I-re-read-over-the-summer-when-I-didn't-have TV: the Matthew Bartholomew Series by Susanna Gregory. Medieval mysteries about a physician and a monk in Cambridge, England.
I'm listening to Clubbers Guide 2009. Will kick your ASS.
Also, appropriately BB King because I've had it bad.
Recommendations from others:
From Robin - the Dean Koontz "Frankenstein" series. Mom highly recommends them as well.
Dad likes the Foxfire Series by Eliot Wigginton. Old timey country living at it's best!
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The Rogue Goddess saw shadows dancing at 7:44 PM
for Molly McButter Butt. She died this morning in my arms at the hospital of congestive heart failure.
I am absolutely heartbroken. She was an excellent companion and a good dog. I am very sorry that we didn't get to spend more time together. I was hoping that we would have at least 3-5 years together before she passed.
She was older than I thought but that probably doesn't make a difference. She did have a heart murmur as well (so did one of our other Pekes, Cris, and that's what killed him). But I still thought we would have more time.
I took her to the hospital yesterday when she was having shallow, rapid breathing and wouldn't eat her treat. She was on oxygen and an IV overnight but she didn't get any better - she just got worse. Her little heart just gave out.
The vet called me this morning to let me know she hadn't improved so I rushed over there. She was just exhausted from trying to breathe and I could tell she was dying.
They let me take her out of her oxygen bubble and hold her and she died in my arms. It was horrible not being able to do anything to save her. I just feel awful. The techs at the vet's office and the vet were very kind to me.
She will be cremated on Friday and I will put her ashes under the maple tree in the back where she would lay in the summer.
Molly McButterbutt was also known as The Butter, Fang, Fanger, Fangy, The Fang Faced Killer, Winky, Blinky, Square, My Little Square, McButt, Yoga Dog and The Waddler.
She was fat and square and her lower canine teeth stuck out like fangs in a "V". She waddled when she walked and wagged her tail often. The only time she didn't wag her tail or hold it up is when she was sick.
She liked to lay in her bed by the fireplace and look out the sliding glass door into the yard. Sometimes she would lay on the steps and survey her "kingdom".
Her favorite treats were pupperonis and cheese. She loved her cheese.
She snored like a drunken sailor and I will probably miss that the most since it was so comforting to hear it in the night.
Questions I would ask her on a daily basis include:
"What's it doin'? What's it doing today?"
"What did it do today? Was it guarding? Was it protecting? Yeah, it was protecting".
"Was it good? Was it good? Yeah, it was good." (after she had eaten or gotten a treat)
"What's it doing in it's bed?"
She loved her walks - especially in the spring and the fall when it wasn't too hot or snow-covered. We would walk about a mile or so a day. She would trot off with me trotting behind until we got about 1/2 mile from home then on the way back she would stop and smell everything. I never quite figured that out. She wouldn't smell or pee so much on the way out, but on the way home she had to smell everything.
She also liked to lay out under the maple tree or on the back porch and watch me mow the yard or work in the herb garden. She liked to watch me work. Sort of like management.
I could say, "Molly potty?" and she would trot to the door and do her "yoga" (she would stretch like a cat - extending first one hind leg and shaking it a bit and then the other hind leg - it was so cute!). We would then go outside. Sometimes she did her yoga outside but it was usually after she got up.
She also know the difference between "go" and "potty". "Go" meant getting into the car (and a possible slim jim treat if we stopped). She did like to go in the car. I'm sorry that her last two trips in the car were to the vet.
Molly also liked to watch the TV and would bark at anything that ran or made animal noises (barks, whinnies, moos) so we couldn't watch "animal planet" unless I felt like listening to it.
If she didn't bark at something, she would "buff" at it. I'm not sure why she "buffed" at some things and barked outright at others. I think "buff" meant "I see you" whereas a bark meant she felt there was action happening (running, yelling or looking AT her).
She would lay at the front door in the summer (when I would have the big door open) and "buff" at people or cars that went by. It was a soft, "buff, buff" usually accompanied by snotting. The bottom half of all of my glass doors and the car window are littered with snot. No matter how many times a day I cleaned it, she snotted it up again.
And let's not forget the snuffling, snorting and snoting that are just part of the package with a Peke. I could ALWAYS tell where she was by her snuffling noises. I swear I've heard her today but that's probably just wishful thinking.
On the weekends if I took a nap, I'd make her lay next to me on the couch to keep me warm. I will miss that a lot.
She was a good dog and never pottied in the house or tore up anything. Oddly, she never wanted to play with toys. She would play a little bit - but nothing like Wheezie used to. She was content to sit in my lap or next to me and just be petted.
I would hold her in my lap every evening and pet her or scratch her ears. Lately I think it was more beneficial to me than to her. Petting her seemed to just relax me. Maybe because she liked it so much.
She would roll over when she saw me for me to rub her belly. Sometimes I would hold her on my lap and just rub her belly until my arm got tired from holding her.
She was completely housebroken and after *I* had overcome *my* reluctance to leave her, I discovered that she didn't mind me being gone at all. She spent her days listening to the radio and gazing out the door or patrolling the house. She would hide her treats sometimes as well (which I found amusing - I found several "pig skins" deposited at various locations as I was putting stuff away after our move in June).
I suspect there were plenty of days when she was glad to see the back of me so she could get some peace and quiet.
Of course, there were other times when *I* misbehaved where she would "shun" me. There is nothing like being shunned by a Peke, let me tell you.
Usually I would do something horrible like cut her toenails, put medicine in her ear or some such thing. Then she would go into her bed in the kitchen (it was off limits to me - I wouldn't bother her if she was in that bed), turn her back on me and flop down with a disgusted "humph".
This happened several times. The first time I was rather indignant. I mean, it is *I* who has the opposible thumb, right? I then learned that her "shunning" only lasted as long as there were no treats. As soon as the pupperioni bag was rattled, I was instantly forgiven.
If only rattling that bag would bring her trotting in with her little fangs sticking out and her ears up with that ? look on her little flat face.
I will miss her more than I thought possible. With all the other crap that's been going on (stuff I haven't written here just because it pisses me off all over again) and Aunt Bea and Uncle Barry dying in December, it was nice to just pick The Butter up and pet her. She was the ONE being who seemed to be content in all of this chaos.
I just hope that I made her as happy as she made me and the short time we were together made up for all of the shuffling around she went thru before I got her. I tried to be as good to her as I could be - long walks, letting her get in the mud and roll in the grass, treats and rides in the car. She even had two of my discarded sheep skins to sleep on - one upstairs and one on a pillow by the TV.
She seemed content. Lord knows she was well-fed!
But that is my hope - that she was as happy with me as I was with her and she felt secure and content with me. I wanted to give her a sense that I would always be around for her and I wasn't going to send her away like had happened so many times before with other people.
I hope she knows how much I loved her and how much my parents had gotten attached to her - especially my Dad. I would put her in his lap when we went to see them because she would just sit there and let him pet her. Sometimes they'd both fall asleep in his chair.
At least I was there with her when she died and got to hold her.
It's time for her walk so I'm going to walk outside for a minute to remember her.
Labels: Molly
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The Rogue Goddess saw shadows dancing at 5:04 PM
