#sol17: Snoopy, Then and Now

Day 4 of #sol17

THEN

     It was 2003, and I became a puppy mom.  We named our beagle Snoopy, and she was a 7 lb ball brown, black and white fur.  We kept her confined to the kitchen at first because it was the only place in the house with tile for an untrained puppy to roam.  She'd run around so fast that she would slide across the floor and fit under the chairs.  I was afraid she would go under the wrought iron railing, too, and fall to the family room below.   So, I bought a baby net for the railing (which we never needed for our actual babies) to stop her from sliding.  We had baby gates in two places as barricades, and I spent weeks of that summer sitting in the kitchen on the floor, playing with my puppy. 

     Sometimes, my husband would lay on the floor in the kitchen, and Snoopy would lay on his chest, and they would nap together.  I, of course, would watch them nap together.  My loves.

     Snoopy was content to chew on her toys, destroy her bedding, and lay under the chairs.  I was content to watch her, because if I wasn't and I dared to venture out of the kitchen into another room in the house, she would cry her gut wrenching, belly howl.  It was just plain guilt ridden awful.  So, I'd return.  It was summer, and our days were long.  I had the time.

     Her favorite part of the day was any part with treats or eating.  We treat trained her, and she quickly learned that if she went potty, she'd get a precious treat.  She'd look right at us, tail wagging, just waiting for that little biscuit.  Such a beagle. 

     Eventually we got her potty trained, and we ventured out of the kitchen together.  Our life with a dog became the new normal.

NOW

      Our house is now filled with the sounds of kids, and 13 year old Snoopy just follows us all around.  Her face is more white than brown, but she still has those same puppy dog eyes when she looks at you.  They are just a bit cloudy now, as her vision isn't what it used to be.

     Yesterday the house was quiet, as I had just dropped the kids off at school and had come back to get my things.  Snoopy was staring at the front door, waiting for Grandma Caryl to come as usual.  Today I dropped the kids off, though, so Grandma wasn't coming.  I knew she just wanted her treat, so I said, "Snoopy, do you want a treat?"  

      Nothing.

      That couldn't be right.  I tried three more times, and still no response.  I knew her hearing was going, but I guess I didn't realize how much.  My eyes quickly flooded with tears.  

      This dog was my first child, and always will be.  In the flurry of life, with our human kids growing so quickly, it's moments like this when I stop and see her.  Moments when I realize that she, too, is growing older.  Moments like this where I want to just enjoy my little puppy, and see her fit under that kitchen chair again.  But that isn't possible.

     Being 13 is rough on her.  She has a constant cough it seems, and her hips some days just don't seem to do what she wants them to do.  She has more accidents than she did as a puppy now.  She rings the bells to go outside constantly, always seeking a treat.  Usually, she won't actually go outside when we open the door.  Sometimes I wonder if she rings the bells because that is what she can control, or if she actually just forgets she just did it.  The truth is, Snoopy always wants a treat.  That is a constant.

     This morning, she didn't hear me.  So, I got down on my knees and looked her in the eyes, and gave her a treat.  She deserves it, my sweet Snoopy.