Dear Brodie (unknown-feb. 25 2007)

[Guest sweetpea]

Dear Brodie,

 

I never got to meet you, but you're the reason I'm here, so I thought I should introduce myself.

My name is Sweetpea, I am 4 years and 9 months and 16 days old (it matters, you'll see)

and I live with Buzzy and Auntie Catey and Gracie and Lolo.

(You probably already know that)

 

You were my mom's first grown-up dog. That means the first dog she had as a grown-up, all on her own.

She drove 1000 miles to get you, and 1000 miles back, she knew as soon as she saw you that

you were older than they said. But she could tell that so many people had let you down already,

she wasn't going to be another one.

 

You were dirty and overweight, you had sebacious cysts, some weird growths on your feet,

your teeth were a strange greeny-brown color, your ears were gunky and greasy,

and you had a big swollen neck.

Your neck was swollen because when they found out you were going to be adopted, they finally

decided to remove your dermoid sinus. Dermoid sinus is sometimes a product of the ridge in a Rhodesian

Ridgeback, it is usually removed when they're still puppies, but not for you. They left your dewclaws in too,

so mom figured you got the minimum amount of care possible from the day you were born. The very minimum.

 

She got you all the way home, 1000 miles, only to find out that you couldn't climb her stairs. You even squirmed your

way out of a harness (very limber), and she didn't know what to do. There's only one way into her house, up those stairs.

Then she remembered that you walked up gramma and grampa's stairs no problem, so she ran inside, grabbed up some

old sheets, and draped them on the stairs so you wouldn't be scared. Everybody thought she was a genius for thinking of this,

it was just the first of many predicaments that she would have to "genius" out on her own.

 

See, there's no RidgebackTalk, and she never heard from your rescue organization ever again, the only phone number she had

was for the foster lady in California, the one who tried to tell mom that you were 4 or 5, maybe 6.

Mom didn't know much, but she knew that you weren't 6, not for a few years.

 

Her vets agreed, you were probably 8 or 9, but not knowing for sure really bugged mom. She cleaned you up, got you out

walking, gave you a bath, got you a dental, slowly got that extra weight off of you, and even the weird foot growths went away.

Then all of a sudden, you couldn't stand up so good. This was 3 months after you moved in. It turned out, all those trips up and

down those stairs were too hard on you at your advanced age.

Mom felt terrible, she rescued you, tried to give you the best home she could, but that

best home was hurting you because it was on the second floor. So you started taking medicine for pain.

 

And then things were pretty good for the first year and a half that you lived with mom.

 

But you were a wounded soul. You were so scared of firecrackers, one time mom found

you hiding in the bathtub. How scared does a dog have to be to hide in the dreaded bathtub?

 

You were scared of other dogs, especially dogs your size or bigger.

You would roar like a lion at those other dogs, so mom would turn you around and walk the other way, and you

always looked relieved. But it was hard for mom, always scanning the horizon for other doggies, always apologizing to

people who looked at her sideways, it was not relaxing or pleasant for mommy, and probably not for you either.

 

You taught mom to have patience with scaredy dogs and with their stressed out owners.

 

You almost never wagged your tail, except when mom came home from work, just a waggle or two.

But you would come lean on her, and let her hug you.

 

And you kept getting older, month by month it seemed, and more and

more things started going wrong with your innards. And the medicines to

cure you, were hard on you. First it was flea dermatitis, which got infected;

then it was a bladder infection, then your anal glands got infected, then your white

blood cells started attacking your red blood cells (mom's unscientific opinion

is that your system got overwhelmed fighting infection after infection and didn't know how to shut off),

then a slow growing cancerous tumor on your ankle; and then the last thing,

a large non-cancerous tumor in your prostate, that made pooping and peeing very difficult for you.

 

Mom decided that she wasn't going to cut you open, she would do what she could with medicine, but not

make you try and recover from surgery. She knows now that she probably held on too long, that she

probably did not manage your pain very well at all, she is very sorry for that.

She wanted to give you as many good days with her as you had bad days in your whole life,

but the numbers were stacked against her.

She only got two years, she felt cheated, she was angry, she was hurt.

 

She sent you to heaven on February 25 2007, and she swore she would never get another rescue dog again.

She wanted a dog that she could know exactly how old it was. She didn't really care about any other traits,

big dog, little dog, lotsa hair, mostly bald, bird-dog, hound-dog, working-dog; none of that mattered.

As long as she could know when it's birthday was, she would be happy.

 

Mom started researching her next dog to be, and Grampa gently asked if she had thought about maybe

rescuing a greyhound, she said she'd look into it, but in her heart she knew she was done with rescues.

But when mom does research, it's not "political" research;

you know the kind where you only look for things that prove your point; she does real research.

Even if she sometimes finds stuff that proves her wrong.

 

Well you probably know what happened, she came to the part in her research where it told her

that greyhounds have their birthdates tatooed inside their ear, and she thought "Eureka!"

And then she did more research, and she found out that a greyhound might be exactly the right

dog for her.

 

And here I am.

 

I think you and I would have gotten along, 'cause I remind Gramma and Grampa of their whippet Fergie,

and you always seemed to brighten up when Fergie came to visit, even letting her snuggle up in your

bed with you.

 

So thank you Brodie, for reintroducing my our mom to the wonderful world of dog ownership,

the good and the heartbreaking parts.

Thanks for reminding mom how good it feels to love and be loved by us puppers.

 

'Hope you're happy in heaven, and not afraid, and not in pain, getting all the hugs and kisses that you deserve.

 

Love,

Sweetpea

 

p.s. Don't worry, I'm doing a good job looking after mom,

I follow so close I bump my head into her heinie when she stops too quick!

[jamngrey]

awww

[Guest guinness_the_greyt]

Your Brodie sounds a lot like my Harley was....

[Guest argolola]

Hugs to you.

[Fiona3]

What a lovely tribute to Brodie. He sure had a hard time but you made it so much better for him, giving him love, companionship and the medical treatment that he clearly never got. I am sure he is looking down on you and Sweetpea with a big grin on his face and would say "thank you for loving & caring for me" during the time he had in your home.

[Patsy]

Man, allergies are bad this morning! Any chance for some pix?

[robinw]

Brodie sounds just like my beloved Beansy

[patricia]

Such a beautiful tribute to a very special boy.

[lovinggreysslp]

What a lovely tribute to your special boy.

[Guest LolasMom]

Terrible allergies here this morning Sweetpea, that was a wonderful tribute to Brodie, a very precious boy.

Thank you so much.

[Guest caiteag]

Sweetpea, thank you for sharing your bridge brother Brodie with us. Your mom is obviously a special lady and you and Brodie are lucky you found her.

 

Darned allergies...

[Guest Greyglo]

So very sorry for your loss. Good to read that the boy with no birthday eventually found his way to you. I hope Brodie is perfect, painfree and among friends at the Bridge.

 

[Guest laceyj]

Sweetpea, thank you for sharing your bridge brother Brodie with us. Your mom is obviously a special lady and you and Brodie are lucky you found her.

 

Darned allergies...

 

ditto

 

can't see to type, damn watery eyes

[jenners]

Could his birthday be sometime really really soon and we can go over to Cute & Funny and have a PARTAY like we just had for Otis? Let us know if we can do that for Brodie

 

Dearest Beth, SweetPea and Brodie

 

Jennifer

[iluvgreys]

awwwwww... What a touching tribute to your special boy. I'm sure he's smiling down at you from the Bridge.

[CaliforniaGreys]

What a wonderful tribute, and I still can't stop crying. Sweetpea sure is a heck of a writer.

[Guest IrskasMom]

 

 

Buzzy , Sweetpea and Brody

[Devotion]

A beautiful tribute for a special boy.

[Guest vahoundlover]

What a beautiful tribute Sweetpea, you have one very special brother and I bet he's watching over you and your mom.

 

 

[Hawthorn]

[Guest Snowy8]

:beatheart :beatheart

[Guest Becki]

[4greyhounds]

Hugs to you!!!!! That made me cry, that is such a special story!!!! Thanks for sharing!

[Guest StriderDog]

Wha? Who said I was crying? I'm not crying.... :

Edited March 11, 2008 by StriderDog

[greypuppyluv]