This blog is dead and so am I. So until further notice..close the door on your way out.

Living next to a rental house is the pits. The last tenants had a bunch of kids who threw big rocks over the fence into my yard for amusement. They are making the new ones look good. These folks have kids who play and scream right outside the only window I have that opens. Even better they have a big dog that is chained outside and barks incessantly. My bedroom is on that side of the house. It’s a whole lot worse though when I dare to venture into my backyard. Then today I went out to check my garden and there are rocks and bricks in my yard! I am so tempted to throw them back over the fence. Maybe I’ll get lucky and beam the dog while I’m at it.

When I was living in California we found Patches at the local humane society. Melissa and I went to look. They had a long covered hallway of cages and every dog in there was barking. Melissa went through with her ears covered. She hated the noise. Then we came to this little pooch just sitting there not making a peep. We talked to the worker and took him to a little penned in yard to see how we got on together. She handed me a ball but when I turned around to throw it for him, I found Melissa and him laying together under the tree. Yes, he was our dog right from the start.

The first time the girls took him outside, he saw this snazzy red convertible parked at the curb and hopped on in. He was ready to ride! I had to convince him that he was going to have to settle for my Sundance instead. He loved to ride and he had such good taste in cars!

Then there was the day the pizza deliveryman came and stood on the very wobbly chair by my front door asking in a quavery voice, “Does he bite?” lol, a more mellow dog you could not find.

When I left California with all my belongings, I had a rabbit cage, a bird cage on top of it, two cats and Patches in the cab of the truck with me. It was a cozy ride. He sat there faithfully by my side the entire trip. Back at my parents house I ensconced my poor southern California dog in my father’s barn through the winter. What a culture shock that must have been! But I’d come out of the house and he’d see me and just come running up the driveway. One of very few good memories of that winter.

I received disability and rented a house with a huge fenced yard. He was happy about the yard, but I think he was happier being back with his family. And he loved the bay window where this picture was taken. We moved again and life went on. His age was starting to show. I could see he had cataracts but it was hard to know how much he could see. He knew the house well enough to function (most of the time). I’d sometimes find him standing in a corner and help him find his way out. One day he got under my bed and got his head wedged in the wood slats of the box springs. Melissa and I had to remove the mattresses to get him out. Tricky to do without hurting him. The worst was the night the basement door was left open and he fell down the stairs (I’m sure he was totally incapable of walking down them at that point) and fell into the sump pump hole. His yelping woke Melissa up thank God. I dragged him out, gave him a warm bath and took him to bed with me. Poor old pup.

The day he could no longer stand, I knew it was time. It broke my heart. He was the best dog I ever had. We enjoyed 12 years or so with that sweet guy. I miss him still.