- 3 years ago
- Wedding: July 2012
My weekend was very bittersweet. Mom, DH, and I went on a trip to Deadwood, SD so mom could gamble, and I took DH to see Mt. Rushmore. Saturday was fun. Sunday, when I got up, mom told me that on Saturday morning my dad and brother made the decision to get my 12 year old Keeshond, Furby, put to sleep. Without going into too much detail he had an issue that progressed very quickly, and there was nothing the vet could do. We knew this would probably happen, but we didn’t anticipate it being this soon. He didn’t suffer (or appear to suffer) as he jump into the pickup all by himself and looked happy to have his last treat.
I got Furby back in 2009. He was 8 years old and had been at the shelter since he was 3 years old (so 5 years). He had no takers ever in those years. He didn’t like men, children, other dogs, or having his neck touched because his owners kept a tigh collar on him without changing it because they just didn’t care anymore. Furby grew up from a cute, fluffy little puppy into a big dog, and that is why they gave him up.
I came across Furby, and he and I were perfect for each other. Within weeks I got him to love neck scratches. I also got him used to men, and he absolutely adored my husband and all the men in my family. Although he wasn’t exposed to other children, he did like my parent’s dog, who is now mourning the loss of a good friend. He LOVED treats, hated getting his picture taken, had a love/hate relationship with the ridiculous Chirtsmas collars I put on him, and always made me laugh when he could kick grass up after going bathroom. My favorite memory will be bringing him in front the rain and towelling him off. He would run down the hallway, come screeching to a hault when I said his name, and then run back to me and snort and grunt when I rubbed him down with the towel. Then we would do it all again until he’d lay on the floor for a belly rub.
I had to give Furby to my parents in 2011 when I moved, but I still took care of him and did all I could. He couldn’t come with us when we moved into our house because of the steps. He had some early onset of arthritis and other issues, but man could he jump for a treat!
And it didn’t matter that I have my Saint Bernard. I am still taking Furby’s loss hard because he was a good friend and amazing companion. He just enjoyed laying in the garage with a fan on him, fur blowing in the breeze and extra points if you went out, gave him a pat on the head, and gave him a treat (or two, or three, or four).
So thank you for all the wonderful memories, Furby. <3