I tend to see patterns and themes in everything, which is a blessing and a curse. That said, I tend to get down on seemingly cursed years (or days or weeks or places), and I have to willfully remind myself that the universe isn’t just screwing with me and people I know. That victim mindset is a slippery slope.
Last year, a lot of people I know, including me, lost parents. This year, a lot of people I know, including me, lost pets: four dogs, one tortoise (she was old–about 40–but not that old for a tortoise).
Two of them went to the Rainbow Bridge this week, including Pixel, Gida’s beloved brother who met an untimely end near his home in Berkeley, CA.
Pixel had a tough early life, but he proved to be a fighter. He was the runt and only boy of his litter; he and Gida, runt runner-up, were the only ones left when my husband went to check them out at their breeder in far-northern California. Maybe they were left behind because they were both smaller and mismarked by Boston terrier standards–maybe it was because the universe wanted them to go to their respective homes. (<- I flirt with optimism, sometimes.)
He proved a stark contrast to his sister in many ways. God love her, she was standoffish, whereas he lived to be petted and held. By anyone. You, especially. He thinks you are the best. Are there people here? Because he would love to meet them! As with many unassuming younger siblings, he was somewhat naively gentle, even when his big sis was stealing his toys or humping him, as if there were any question about the alpha in this situation. Gida, off. Off!
He had luxating patella (in both knees), mange (a thankfully minor case), and cataracts. But in his later years, he thrived. He was better than ever, in fact, chowing down on the same organic raw sliders his mom recommended for Gida and being a very good boy at social events. He remained “buttery,” my favorite way to describe him because he was so melty and soft. In the pair’s later months, this became a different kind of stark contrast. We like to think seeing Pixel made ailing Gida feel better. “Pixel? Where’s Pixel?” was a game we’d play in the car, but only when we were outside his house (she’d have whined all the way from San Francisco otherwise). His was a name she always reacted to. Always. Me too.
Rest peacefully, Pixel. Don’t let Gida steal your toys or eat your food.
I know cats like to climb up legs with their surprisingly sharp claws, but this is ridiculous. This almost works, is the thing. Almost.
As I told a friend who works in fashion, I fully expect these to show up at Fashion Week soon. You heard it here first.
Credit: Romwe.com, $24.99.
Well, this is good news! The Agriculture Department is finally cracking down on dog breeders who sell puppies over the Internet. New regulations will force these breeders to apply for federal licenses. The idea behind the new rules, says USDA’s Kevin Shea, is that either government inspectors or buyers see the animals with their own eyes before they are sold. (Pawesome rule: Never buy a dog from a breeder without seeing the conditions in which the parents live.) Read the rest of this entry »
Great friends give great gifts. They not only know your taste, they pay more attention to what you say, even when you mention something in passing or post it on Facebook. One such great friend rallied some other great friends to donate to this: the Gida Hunt Memorial Tattoo Fund.
Jeff has mulled over and more recently mentioned getting a Gida tattoo (we like those) to memorialize our best-on terrier. As a couple things came more sharply into view—Gida getting sicker and visit from a tattoo-artist friend—the idea really started to take shape. But we never in a million years thought someone would spend time, effort, and actual cash toward making that idea an indelible, real-life thing.
I can’t wait to see how it turns out and I’ll be forever thankful someone thought to help us memorialize her this way.