The last couple of weeks have been difficult and sad for our little sad-faced dog.
Two weeks ago we said goodbye to his good friend Jazz , a sweet old Shepherd cross dog, and four days ago his housemate Nigel the cat died. No wonder the poor guy is feeling agitated. He paces the house sniffing, and barks at the wind. He doesn't really settle down until bedtime, when he's up on my bed, curled up snoring behind our knees.
Without Nigel, he doesn't know what to do with himself. I figured this would happen. Like our children, Dobby grew up with this cat.
Nigel was 15 when we brought the puppy into our home. Any older and I think it would have stressed him out too much. He handled it well, although at first he seemed unsure as to what exactly this tiny creature was...
"Holy geez, what the..."
"Um, guys? Hey? I woke up and uh... I think you should come and look at this... Guys???"
It didn't take long for the cat to figure out what the deal was with the dog. Basically, he was still the boss, the first, the supreme being. Easy. The puppy just wanted attention. It was an effortless situation. All the had to do, as boss cat, was tolerate the young whelp and swat him every now and then if he got out of line.
(At grandma's house, soaking up the woodstove. Good times. Notice how the puppy worked his way closer to the cat. This dog really is a love-sponge.)
They reminded me of that cartoon with the two dogs... you know, the little yippy one bounces up and down, "whaddawe doin' now boss" and the bull dog swipes the yippy one and growls, "Aw shaddup." That kind of thing.
Only with more catly smugness.
On Dobby's first birthday, we set them both on a couch for pictures.
And then, "Darn kid. Don't tell him I like him."
They shared the sun spot at the sliding doors...
Nigel used to be our front door greeter, but as he got older and his hearing decreased, he left the job up to the dog.
Dobby was young in this picture. He ended up being quite a bit bigger than the cat. But then again, the cat did shrink a lot in his last years.
Jazz lived up the street and was Dobby's first dog-girl-friend. She was a well mannered lady who loved to bark. She patiently taught Dobby how to sit nicely beside the dinner table, walk down the street without pulling your human, and how to effectively guard the house.
She was so patient with him. He must have driven her nutty. When her hips started getting sore, she'd just lie down and let him run circles around her. They had a few days when I thought he brought out a little spark of youth in her, and other days when he'd just lick her nose and wait, tail wagging, for her to play.
I have to keep him occupied, well exercised, and cuddled. He'll be okay.
He's still got his long-distance girlfriend, Ruby...
And life goes on.