Yesterday I talked with Kyle over the phone and he told me that he had finally taken our dog Timmy to the vet last week to be put down. Although I knew it was coming, it still hit me hard. Timmy was old, he had become blind, mostly deaf...and finally diabetic. In fact, we had planned to take care of things while I was in DC a few weeks ago, but the vet was not available the day I was able to take off.
Kyle said, "Mom don't worry, I'll take care of it." And well as much as I felt it was really my responsibility, I was so relieved of not having to go through it right now. And yet, even though I knew it was time for Timmy to be at rest...I still cryed like a baby when Kyle told me he was gone. Timmy was Kenny's dog. This evening I reminisced about how he had become ours and suddenly I realized why it is so hard for me to think about...even now.
Before Ken's second liver transplant (in 1995) he had started talking about wanting a dog. Not just any dog...he was very specific. He wanted a little Dachsund. He had seen a fishing show, the guy had a Dachsund, and he took that dog fishing with him down on a lake. That's all it took, Kenny was hooked on the idea of having a Dachsund of his own to take out back fishing with him. I have never been a dog person myself, I have always had cats, so at first all I could say to Kenny is, "No way." I didn't want a dog; had tried it once before with "crazy dog" Fred and didn't want to try it again for any reason. But Kenny would not let up, that's all he talked about. Finally, in my head, I made a bargain with God. Basically it was, "Dear Lord if you get Kenny through this second liver transplant, I'll get him a dog!" Well...sure enough...not too hard to guess the rest of the story...
While Ken was slowly recovering from transplant number two, I started reading the Sunday pet section of the newspaper...looking for a Dachsund. I finally found one in an advertisement for the Alexandria SPCA. They were having an adoption day at Old Town School for Dogs in Alexandria, VA...and sure enough they had a little rescued Dachsund ready for adoption. His name was Timmy. I suppose it was really "Tiny" Tim. I called and asked about him. The lady told me this very sad story about a young dog they rescued that had nearly starved to death. They had to hospitalize him and he had barely survived, but he was finally ready for adoption. "How appropriate!" I thought. He and Ken have so much in common. Ken had barely survived too. So, I figured they were destined to be pals! When I broke the news to Kenny, you should have seen his smile! It was that beautiful, dimpled, Kenny smile...
That Saturday, we all packed into the mini van to go and meet our Tiny Tim. And well, what a dog! He was your typical little reddish brown mini-Dachsund. And he was perfect and he was handsome. He greeted us with such barking and going on... The boys warmed up to him right away...and Ken too. Me...well not so much. But it's amazing what love will do!
So before we left, we filled out a ton of paperwork and I tried my best to cover up my dismay about getting a dog. We had to apply to adopt that little thing and had to submit to a home visit and thorough scrutiny before they would let us keep him. After a few weeks, Timmy became our newest little boy! And...well...he was nuts about us. Right away Danny built him a carpeted ramp so he could climb into his bed at night. We got him a new red collar with a cute name tag...and a nice blanket of his own.
Timmy bonded to us so well that he actually became a bit neurotic. When ever we had to leave him alone, he had such fits! In fact, he was famous for punishing us by soiling the carpet. Oh and the boys, especially Dan, hated that when they left clothing on their floor, Tim would reward them with burying a little present in their pile of clothes. It took a while to get him house broken and for months I found myself questioning my sanity for ever agreeing to bring home another dog. But after all that initial ordeal...he became such a good companion for Kenny. He was there for him when the boys were in school and I was away at work. He and Ken spent a lot of time sleeping together in that big old brown recliner chair. Tim would curl up in a ball on Kenny's lap. And yes, they spent a lot of time out back at the lake. They used to walk all the way around and Tim would run ahead in a scurry to get home with his little ears flapping in the breeze. He would run a little bit, then look over his shoulder to be sure Kenny was still behind him. Finally when Ken got to the house, Timmy would be standing by the door just waiting for Kenny to let him in. He would hurry inside and run over to take a rest. With a tired sigh, he would find comfort by snuggling up in his crate, buried deep underneath his blanket. Yes, Kenny and Timmy spent many days going through that entire routine together; the two were inseparable!
And so in spite of all the sadness in saying goodbye to Timmy, Kyle reminded me that our dear Tim-Tim is no longer blind, no longer deaf, no longer diabetic...and no longer suffering. And the best part of all...he is with Kenny once again by that lake fishing. And yeah, well the funny thing is that we are sure, our tiny little Timmy is now rolling around in yucky, stinky goose poop!!! Just like the good ole' days!
Before Ken's second liver transplant (in 1995) he had started talking about wanting a dog. Not just any dog...he was very specific. He wanted a little Dachsund. He had seen a fishing show, the guy had a Dachsund, and he took that dog fishing with him down on a lake. That's all it took, Kenny was hooked on the idea of having a Dachsund of his own to take out back fishing with him. I have never been a dog person myself, I have always had cats, so at first all I could say to Kenny is, "No way." I didn't want a dog; had tried it once before with "crazy dog" Fred and didn't want to try it again for any reason. But Kenny would not let up, that's all he talked about. Finally, in my head, I made a bargain with God. Basically it was, "Dear Lord if you get Kenny through this second liver transplant, I'll get him a dog!" Well...sure enough...not too hard to guess the rest of the story...
While Ken was slowly recovering from transplant number two, I started reading the Sunday pet section of the newspaper...looking for a Dachsund. I finally found one in an advertisement for the Alexandria SPCA. They were having an adoption day at Old Town School for Dogs in Alexandria, VA...and sure enough they had a little rescued Dachsund ready for adoption. His name was Timmy. I suppose it was really "Tiny" Tim. I called and asked about him. The lady told me this very sad story about a young dog they rescued that had nearly starved to death. They had to hospitalize him and he had barely survived, but he was finally ready for adoption. "How appropriate!" I thought. He and Ken have so much in common. Ken had barely survived too. So, I figured they were destined to be pals! When I broke the news to Kenny, you should have seen his smile! It was that beautiful, dimpled, Kenny smile...
That Saturday, we all packed into the mini van to go and meet our Tiny Tim. And well, what a dog! He was your typical little reddish brown mini-Dachsund. And he was perfect and he was handsome. He greeted us with such barking and going on... The boys warmed up to him right away...and Ken too. Me...well not so much. But it's amazing what love will do!
So before we left, we filled out a ton of paperwork and I tried my best to cover up my dismay about getting a dog. We had to apply to adopt that little thing and had to submit to a home visit and thorough scrutiny before they would let us keep him. After a few weeks, Timmy became our newest little boy! And...well...he was nuts about us. Right away Danny built him a carpeted ramp so he could climb into his bed at night. We got him a new red collar with a cute name tag...and a nice blanket of his own.
Timmy bonded to us so well that he actually became a bit neurotic. When ever we had to leave him alone, he had such fits! In fact, he was famous for punishing us by soiling the carpet. Oh and the boys, especially Dan, hated that when they left clothing on their floor, Tim would reward them with burying a little present in their pile of clothes. It took a while to get him house broken and for months I found myself questioning my sanity for ever agreeing to bring home another dog. But after all that initial ordeal...he became such a good companion for Kenny. He was there for him when the boys were in school and I was away at work. He and Ken spent a lot of time sleeping together in that big old brown recliner chair. Tim would curl up in a ball on Kenny's lap. And yes, they spent a lot of time out back at the lake. They used to walk all the way around and Tim would run ahead in a scurry to get home with his little ears flapping in the breeze. He would run a little bit, then look over his shoulder to be sure Kenny was still behind him. Finally when Ken got to the house, Timmy would be standing by the door just waiting for Kenny to let him in. He would hurry inside and run over to take a rest. With a tired sigh, he would find comfort by snuggling up in his crate, buried deep underneath his blanket. Yes, Kenny and Timmy spent many days going through that entire routine together; the two were inseparable!
And so in spite of all the sadness in saying goodbye to Timmy, Kyle reminded me that our dear Tim-Tim is no longer blind, no longer deaf, no longer diabetic...and no longer suffering. And the best part of all...he is with Kenny once again by that lake fishing. And yeah, well the funny thing is that we are sure, our tiny little Timmy is now rolling around in yucky, stinky goose poop!!! Just like the good ole' days!
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