I got a call from my sister to say Mom and Dad were taking her to the vet most likely to put her down. She had stopped drinking and eating two days before and the night before the call had cried all night.
She was in pain.
I rearranged my work schedule to go spend some time with her. She was on the floor in her spot between the couch and nanny's chair. Her nose was warm and dry and her eyes a little dull. But she wagged her spotty stubby tail when she saw me. I laid down on the floor and petted her face to face for a while.
It took three of us coaxing and finally Dad carrying to get her in the truck. She was in rough shape.
Dorothy was a fantastic dog. A good old girl.
She was born in my parent's house in the basement. My Dad and his Brother had decided to breed English Springer Spaniels. Naturally that meant the women in the house had a pile of work to do.
When Dorothy was born she was in the middle of the pack. Not too small, not too big. We called her number 5. There were 10 pups. She was hand raised with rest of them. Bottle fed and snuggled.
Eventually all the pups got old enough to sell. So naturally there was an interview process. You couldn't just walk into our yard and give us $500 for a dog. You had to pass a personality test, show us an income statement and convince us you had the right cut of jib for our dogs.
They all went. Fully papered CKC registered English Springer Spaniels.
We chose a lady for #5. She had other dogs she claimed and said #5 would fit right in.
She was gone for about a month. Then the lady called. She said #5 was sick. Had been to her vet and deemed genetically unfit. She peed constantly and always would. She was not what the lady had paid for.
Thereafter there was a flurry of telephone calls between the lady and my mother that ended with my mother's declaration of "bring her home". She was gone about 9 weeks.
And home she came. I will probably never forget that day.
The car pulled up and they took a crate out of the back. Inside was a shivering shaking spotty dog. They opened the door and she began to limp out.
"why is she limping?" from my mother
"She caught her paw in the crate" was the reply
"why is she filthy?" I asked
"she's incontinent" was the answer.
The spotty dog saw me sitting in the entryway and began to scream. Have you ever heard a dog scream? I have and it broke my heart.
And infuriated my mother.
"Here's your money" she told the lady
And the lady made the mistake of making some kind of noise about keeping the dog. I don't know for sure cause I had a spotty shivering screaming filthy dog wrapped around my neck.
I do remember my mother saying "Lady, you better get out of my yard. The dog stays."
Thankfully I was wearing shorts that day. Cause filthy dog and I got in the tub. It took a long time to get her clean. She kissed me the whole time.
She never went anywhere again. My Uncle made a suggestion that she could be re-sold. I explained to him that since I had put the ad in the paper and helped screen the phone calls and the people I felt I had earned a dog. Really I just couldn't bear to put her in another car. I may have taken some tone with him. Maybe.
I saw the lady again a month or so later. She asked about the dog. I said the dog was fine. She asked if we were having another breeding litter. My response was "lady, it will be hockey night in Hades before you get another dog from us." Then I walked away. Cause really, smacking people is illegal.
We debated about what to call her. She had a spot on the top of her head and before she left my mom had been calling her "dotty". My sister flat out refused to call her that. "I'm not standing in the yard screaming Dotty. The neighbours will think I've lost my mind. It's stupid."
The debate carried on. "What's the long form of Dotty?" My sister asked "what's it a pet name for?"
Well, Dorothy.
My sister declared that a dog who crossed her paws when she laid down should have two names like a lady. She chose Jean as the second name.
And so we registered her as Miss Dorothy Jean of Nunn
Dorothy had a damned good life. She had some ups and downs. An emergency puppy hysterectomy. Several UTI's. Cancer removed from her paw. Ear infections.
But she only ever peed in our house twice. Both times were people's faults. If we had listened to her she would have made it. Hell, she used to wake me up at 2 am crying by the bed asking out.
She became dad's girlfriend. She would wait for him to come home from work. Laying on the mat by the door. She became mom's gardening companion, she loved to eat beans. She became nanny's foot warmer. She would sit on nanny's feet and let herself be petted. Even when nanny put her fingers in Dorothy's eyes cause nanny is blind Dorothy never curled a lip.
She never curled a lip when kids on the street threw sticks at her. I did though.
She only ever bit the neighbour kid. But in fairness he smacked my butt. She would get in between us if we were having an argument. Her poor little face would get so anxious that we had no choice but to stop.
She loved the sprinklers, was terrified of thunderstorms.
I was nervous when my brother and his wife brought their first baby to mom and dad's. Dorothy had never been around babies, would she be ok?
She basically ignored the small human. Till he cried. Then she licked him.
She mourned for a month when we had to put black dog down. Then again when I moved out.
Is it stupid to be so sad for a dog?
Well, how about for a gentle happy soul?
I know the religious people say dogs don't have souls.
I have a different opinion about that. I'm pretty sure you can't get into heaven (or what ever the good place after this one is) unless animals vouch for you. I think they are the gate keepers.
Hold the door for us old girl, we'll see you in a while.
