Pippin Posted July 31, 2008 Share Posted July 31, 2008 About 17 or 18 years ago, some friends got a call from a local shelter. There was an Italian Greyhound that needed a home. My friends worked with greyhound adoption, so the shelter contacted them. Best guess was that the little boy was around a year old. My friends brought him home, named him Giorgio (George for short), and gave him the same care and attention they gave their other dogs. George grew into a sweet, affectionate mature iggy. When I first met my friends' iggies in 2003, he was my favorite (Ricky was still young and crazy, and George was over 10 by then). George liked nothing better than to nap in your lap. He would snuggle next to you in bed, but you had to be careful or he would crawl inside your nightshirt. He was the first IG I ever met, and because of him, I'm head over heels for senior iggies, and plan to always have one in my life. Fast forward to 2007. George is getting old, and his eyes don't look right. They take him in to the vet, and it turns out he has glaucoma. The pressure on the optic nerve is making his eye bulge out. Vet schedules surgery for the next day. They take George home for the night, and bring him back in the morning. Overnight, his other eye is as bad as the first eye. Doc winds up removing both eyes. George moves into a bed in the kitchen. For the next year, my friends (and I, when I dogsit) carry George out into the backyard, and supervise him while he takes care of business. Sometimes he explores the entire yard, just using his nose. Then we get to summer of 2008. George doesn't have the control he used to. He soils his bed, has problems walking, and no matter how much he eats, looks like he just got out of Auschwitz. It's time. Yesterday, George went to the bridge. We knew it was coming, and we figured it would be this week. I had hoped that he would hold on another day, so I could be there with Dee (her DH is out of town this week). But I had to work yesterday, and there was no way I could get there in time after work Doc says that George probably had some kind of brain trauma, there near the end, that affected his mobility. Knowing Doc, I'm sure she & Dee reminisced about some of George's follies and foibles, and I'm sure that Dee kissed George as he went to sleep, and told him he was a GOOD BOY, and that she would miss him. And I'm confident that he's running around like a crazy man, full of vim and vigor and youth and vitality and seeing clearly with two new eyes, and that's really what I want for him. Really, it IS. But even so, I sit here and weep, because George is gone, and I'll miss him. When I first met him, back in 2003: In 2006: Quote Mary Semper Fi, Dad - I miss you. Remembering Carla Benoist, a Greyhound/Pibble's bestest friend, Princess Zoe Brick-Butt, the little IG with the huge impact on hearts around the world - Miz Foxy - Greyhound Trish - Batman, the Roman-nosed Gentleman - Profile, the Handsome Man - Hunky the Hunkalicious - Jeany the Beautiful Lady- Zema, the most beautiful girl in the world - Jessie, the lovable nuisance - and my 3 Greys: my Angie-girl, my Casey-girl, and The Majestic Pippin, running forever in my heart. (I will always love you and miss you,my friends) Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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