This was the lowest moment in Pixie's life. She hated this coat. She wouldn't move in it. We had to carry her outside as she literally wouldn't move with the coat on. Once outside, she just stood there, head down, not moving at all. It was total humiliation in her little world. We threw the coat away.
I thought this would make a good Christmas card. Pixie didn't think so. She was not happy, yet again.
Pixie has a happy place. It's where her Daddy is.
She loves her Mason. This was last year. Mason was 3 months old. Pixie was 8.5 years old.
Is there a point to this blog other than cutsie pictures of my 'dog'? Well yes. This is the first pet I've ever had. People used to tell me things about their animals, and I'd think 'good grief, it's a (insert animal here), for goodness sakes. I never knew the emotions attached to having a pet. I got Den this dog for Christmas in 1999. He wanted a dog. I didn't. I compromised and got him a little dog. He loved her from the first moment he saw her. I got her from the local vet that breeds miniature long haired daschunds. I got pick of the litter. I knew which one was ours the very first time I saw the litter. I gave Den a camcorder tape in his stocking that I'd made as Pixie couldn't come home for 6 weeks. She was born December 22. The vet goes to our church and of course Den had to rush over to them after Mass on Christmas Day. He asked if he could come over and see her right away. I said 'DEN! It's Christmas Day for goodness sakes!' So, we went over there on Christmas day of course. He walked in and Pixie came right up to him. Yep, she was our dog from that second on.
Pixie blew a disc in her back in October of 2007. We had to make a difficult decision in a few hours. It was either a VERY expensive surgery, that might not work, or put her to sleep. We didn't have the money. Den was heartbroken. We held her in a soft blanket and took the golf cart out around the park to discuss what to do. She wasn't in pain. She was paralyzed. Den just wasn't ready to lose her. We drove her early the next morning to a town 1.5 hours away only to find the surgeon/vet wasn't in. He'd gone home. They looked at Pixie, knew what she needed, called the vet, and he came back and did the surgery. It was a long recovery. She's not 100%, but she's Pixie. We're still in debt from that surgery!
My friend Daphne's daughter's kitten went missing a few days ago. I understood the angst. I wouldn't have 9.5 years ago. I'd have thought 'it's a cat for goodness sakes'. Pets are more than animals. They become part of your life. I was very happy to get an email from Daphne tonight saying Wendy the kitten was home! I felt relief.
I guess this is just a little thank you to Pixie. I've enjoyed the 9.5 years. I know I'll miss her when she's gone. I also know I'll never have another pet. There will never be another Pixie.