In Memory of Blue

     We adopted Blue in October 2005 from a shelter in Arizona that was having an Adopt-a-thon. We waited in line for three hours just to walked through the kennel and view the dogs. As soon as I stepped foot inside I decided to just take the first dog that wasn't already adopted because if we passed on a dog I'd worry that they didn't get adopted. We walked past a dozen kennels that had "I've been adopted," signs on them, then there was a kennel with no sign. The dog inside was a German Shepherd/Chow, she was seven months old and believed to always have been a stray before she was brought to the shelter. She was a good medium size dog (at the time at least) and her orange fur and spotted tongue made her stand out. I told Adam, "That's the dog, let's get her," and that was it.

     I've never really thought about how events could have been altered  just so, and we may never had adopted Blue. For starters, one of the hundreds of other people in line that night might have chosen her before us. What if we weren't even there that night because we never saw the advertisement? The truth is; she was always meant to be a part of our lives.

     Our relationship wasn't perfect; she barked at everything, she constantly stepped on my bare feet with her raptor claw toenails (my own fault for procrastinating making her grooming appointment), and sometimes, if I'd put off sweeping (and again, getting her groomed) I'd sweep up enough fur to make a whole 'nother dog. In my darkest moments I'd think about getting rid of her. I'd think that she was just too much for us and she'd be better off living with someone else. Thank God I never went through with it.

       I remember the first time she got out and ran away. We had only had her a few months so she was still less than a year old- and boy was she fast! I had opened the front door for something and she just bolted, in just a few seconds I couldn't even see her anymore. I put Riley and Allie in the car, they were only four and two, and we drove around the neighborhood. The kids were young and panicked that we wouldn't find her, I assured them that I'd keep looking until we did but after circling around for the umpteenth time there was nothing else I could do. She was gone.
      I turned down our street and as I approached our house there was Blue! Sitting in the front yard with her tongue hanging out, one ear perfectly pointed up and the other a little floppy. I parked and opened my door, ready to grab her if she tried to bolt again, but she didn't run away, she ran right up to the car with her tail wagging. She got out a few more times over the years but it was always the same thing; a few minutes of exploration and adventure and then she'd come back home, ready for a drink and a nap. That damn dog drove me crazy.

     But she was our Blue dog. Named after a children's cartoon the night we adopted her. I thought of the name but told Adam the kids came up with it so he'd think it was cute and go with it. I didn't tell him until years later that I lied about that but it was too late to change her name by then.

     She never failed to greet us when we returned home and every night she slept right outside Riley and Allie's bedroom doors, even though she had a nice comfy bed downstairs; she wanted to be near her family.  When we moved from Arizona to Washington she made the trip with us and rode next to Adam in the moving truck for 1,400 miles, and when we arrived at our new house with its big backyard and lush green grass, the first thing Blue did was flop herself down on the grass, flip over to her back, and rub back and forth for, I swear, five solid minutes! She was in heaven.

      She was the best dog. She didn't deserve the ending she got. She didn't deserve to struggle. She didn't deserve to be terrified. She was supposed to be seventeen, an old dog, who's body had started shutting down so we make the hard decision to put her down. It's sad, but it's peaceful. She wasn't supposed to die in the seat next to Adam as he raced to the vet at 6am, knowing already that it would be too late. Adam, with his hand on her the whole time, yelling at her to hold on and fight!

     The vet thinks Blue had a tumor that must have ruptured. There was no way for us to know.

     When my mom heard the news she started crying, she told my brother, "I just loved that dog," his reply was, "We all did." That's true, everyone who met her loved her, how could you not? She had nothing but love to give and love was all she wanted in return.

     We will miss her terribly.  Our hearts are broken.

    

Jan: The Plight of the Middle Child

Originally written in 2014.  
  
     Shortly after the babies were born, Adam's mom was at our house visiting and she was telling us at what ages Adam had hit certain milestones; rolling over, sitting up, walking, etc. I was trying to recollect when Riley and Allie had done these things but for the life of me I couldn't remember. (Gimmie a break- I had just had twins and I was lucky if I remembered my kids' names at that point!) (Side story: the other day someone asked me how much the twins weighed when they were born and I couldn't remember!! I told her they weighed six pounds each just so she wouldn't think I was the worst mom ever.)

     Anyway, I decided I would go out to the garage and unearth Riley's baby book. We had a lot of fun sitting at the dining room table, looking through the pages and reliving the memories written inside. When we finished going through the book Allisan, who up to this point had been enjoying hearing all about when Riley was a baby, looked up expectantly,

     "Can we look at my baby book?"

     I stared at her unblinking. I was in trouble.

     "Umm, you don't have a baby book..."

     Oh my goodness, you should have seen the look on her face. The unfortunate truth is that Allisan was victim to the Second Child Blur. Riley was two when Allie was born and I had no time or energy to put together a baby book for her. I was changing diapers, wiping booties, nursing, cooking for a two year old, and oh-by-the-way I was working nights at Game Stop.

     My own mom put together a beautiful baby book for me, I still have it. For James; she purchased the book but only filled in the first couple pages. Katie has a book that remains completely blank. By the time she had Vickie and Chris she had given up buying the books because she knew she wouldn't do anything with them.

     Allie couldn't believe that I didn't have a book for her. I asked if she wanted me to put one together for her birthday and she told me yes. So now I have to pretend I remember enough to write it all down. I'm in trouble.