R.I.P. Fiona ?-2008

It has now been one week since my little girl, Fiona died. I woke up Sunday morning at 4:30 to find that she had had the runs all over the bedroom, but she seemed ok. We got everything cleaned up, about 6am we went out to potty where she had some trouble pooping, it was very soft and a little bloody. I made sure that she drank some chicken broth and she was sleeping on her favorite pillow when I went to church at 10am. When I got home at Noon she was gone, she had bleed out through her rectum. I swear that she was ok when I left. I've gone through a lot of emotions since Sunday. Being mad at God (If I hadn't gone to church I would have been here), It's just a dog (I can't even believe I thought that, Fiona was more then just a dog) and more in-between. I miss her and so does Toby. It's a little easier every day, but this morning I found where she had pooped behind the hot water heater and started crying all over again.

Poor Toby is not quite sure what to do. I've tried spending more time with him, going on longer walks, taking him to the dog park. Toby has always had Fiona. He's never had anyone his own size to play with. I've been dropping him off at my friend Karen's house during the day where he has 5 other dogs to play with and a yard to run it. He's not used to playing with other dogs but I think he's getting the hang of it.

At the dog park he'd run over and play for about 5 seconds, then run back to me. Karen's dogs are teaching him things. He's never been a barker but did bark some at the dog park. The first time he did it he looked surprised as if to say, "Who did THAT?"

This brings back a memory of Fiona. We were in the back yard of the house, it was late at night and I had just gotten home from working a double shift and was really tired. Toby was doing his business and I had Fiona in my arms and for some reason the thought came into my head "I wonder far I could throw Fiona? I bet I could make the fence". And I swear it's as if she could read my mind. She turned her head up to look at me like she was asking, "What the hell are you
thinking".

It was Fiona that got my mom to play with dogs. All of her life she was scared to death of dogs. She had really bad varicose veins and was afraid that dog would nick them. She would cross the street to bypass a tiny dog. But Fiona she loved, (who didn't?), and would let her into her apartment in the morning. She would bring her a sausage sandwich from Burger King every morning and cut it up into little bits and re-heat it for her. Because of her she started to meet the other dogs and right before she died, (Mom, that is), I was able to get a picture of her with all five dogs around her. My brother Hack was amazed knowing the fear Mom had. That was the kind of dog Fiona was.

She was a little over ten years old which is getting up in age for her breed. I take peace in that I tried to give her the best life that I could and hope that she is in a better place.