In her younger days (and when I was not such a morning person) she was the dog that woke up when my alarm clock went off, always ready to take on the day. She would hear the alarm and immediately hit the floor pacing, her toenails tap dancing on the floor. When she realized I was not getting up after I snoozed the alarm she would settle down, only to pop up again when it went off a second, third or fourth time. Finally, after dragging myself out of the bed, she would bounce up and down as we walked to the back door; her jumps higher than my waist. I was so annoyed but yet so jealous of that early morning energy.
I don't remember when that bounce to the door stopped. I do however remember when I began to carry her up and down the steps to go outside. She could probably still make it, but I hated to see her struggle. It hurt my feelings for her. She had always been such a tough, tomboyish little dog and somewhere along the last 2 years had gracefully entered into senior dog status.
The Clark house has been a bit quiet these past weeks. It's been almost 15 years since I have been a one dog home. As most may remember we lost our lab back in mid May. Thirteen days later I made he tough decision to say goodbye to my Jack Russell, Ristra. Ristra was fourteen years old, weeks shy of her fifteenth birthday, August 4. In my post a few weeks ago about the home again microchip, she was actually gone. I haven't written about her death because every time I sat down at the computer I couldn't see the screen for the tears in my eyes, plus, I didn't want to write another sad story so soon after Ransom's.
I have never been loved by a dog like I was loved like Ristra. Sure, all my dogs have loved me. By nature dogs are loving creatures. But this dog...this dog chose me. I was her person. She came from Santa Fe, New Mexico, hence her name. A "ristra," defined by Wikipedia, is an arrangement of drying chili peppers, that are used in cooking and are a common decorative design in New Mexico. While I was on a preceptorship there, I met this stellar little dog named Dixie. If I could have brought Dixie home with me, I would have, but unfortunately her owners were rather fond of her. Dixie was the typical JRT, a pit bull in a small dog's body. Her owners did, however, offer me one of her puppies. I gladly accepted.
Ristra, also affectionately called Ri Ri, Reesie, and Reesie Peesie, came to live with me while I was on an internship in Texas. I had another Jack Russell at the time and to say they were fast friends would be a lie. It took a while for them to decide they liked each other but in the end they did. While in Texas I worked at an equine hospital that was an emergency and referral facility. It was a very busy hospital and required my getting up for many late night treatments (my house was 300 feet from the hospital). Ristra accompanied me on those middle of the night trips to the barn, protecting me from every frog that came out in the night. She was great company and immensely entertaining.
She has been through almost 1/3 of my life with me...4 moves, a marriage, the death of two grandparents and three canine housemates and the birth of two children. Simply having her around has been a comfort to me. I still can't get used to the absence of that snore in the mornings. When I walk into the kitchen, I feel a bit of emptiness, something missing. What's missing is my little Ri Ri.
I'm not sure when I will get another dog. I'm not quite ready to replace my two. To say replace is truly a misnomer; they will never be replaced. But we will one day open our hearts and home to another deserving soul. I recently had a client say to me, as they were in my same position making that final decision, their little rat terrier was a "small dog, large friend." I found that phrase befitting, so I stole it. That little fourteen pound dog had grit; she had soul; she had my heart. She may have been a "small" dog but she was "large" to me. Rest in peace my "small dog, large friend."