The Little Pack

I woke up this morning with the pain of losing Dixie still raw, said goodbye to Baby Titten (who is going to live with my parents), and prepared myself for a day of sadness and tears. Instead I received an unexpected laugh. Last night we gave Cheyenne her first rawhide in almost 2 years. Dixie was not allowed to have them any longer because we needed to adhere to her diet so strictly to slow the growth of her stones as much as possible. Cheyenne was so happy and proud of that bone. She carried it all over the house, looking for a safe place to keep it. We assured her no one wanted her bone, certainly the cats were not interested and Jackson has never chewed on a rawhide even once in his 9 years of life so she was safe there. Or so we thought. This morning, Jackson stole Cheyenne’s rawhide and would not give it back. And he has been chewing it all morning. It is so bizarre, I have no idea how to react, other than to die laughing. So while there has been a lot of change lately, and certainly there is more to come as they figure out their new dynamic, I am reassured in one constant: where Cheyenne is concerned, laughter is never far away. Although our little pack has become a mini pack, these guys continue to bring such joy to our lives, even during times of sadness.

Dixie, 2002-2010

Rest in peace Little White Dog. May heaven hold all the shrews, rawhides, socks, motorcycles and squeaker toys your heart desires. Keep IO company until we all meet again.

… are my favorite. We sleep in, well, actually, I should clarify. We attempt to sleep in. Like clockwork, Cheyenne and Dixie are ready to roll around 7, sometimes 7:30. We argue over whose turn it is to deal with them, take them out and try to keep sleeping. However. They have other ideas. Before we know it, we are grudgingly getting out of bed, making coffee and trying to wake up. Soon we are drinking coffee, chatting, surfing, and hanging out with the whole pack. Cheyenne and Dixie are in and out, in and out. Dixie is soon woofing for food. Jackson is bringing me a toy. But it is a nice reprieve from the week.

I love coming home to all my animals. Sometimes I can see Cheyenne’s silhouette from a half mile away, her ears visible even at that distance. Sometimes Jackson is in the yard. When he sees me he rejoices, and takes a wide lap around my car. He runs around to the driver’s side door and I open the door and he sails into the car, over my lap and lands in the passenger seat, tail a-wagging and we drive into the garage. I am greeted with barks and yips and a cacophony of celebratory sounds from the other side of the door. “Hold your horses, I’m coming!!” I say. As soon as I open the door, there are more tails wags, hops, kisses and wiggles and regardless of my mood, it is absolutely impossible not to feel joy at this welcome. The cats soon seem to appear out of thin air, weaving in and out of the dog’s limbs, looking up at me with their sweet faces and it is in these moments that I realize how blessed I am.

Dixie had a check-up tonight. The stone has not moved. Because she is continuing to do well, we are going to adopt a wait and see approach. This little dog just continues to surprise us. Everytime we think her time may be up, she rises to the occasion and manages to overcome the situation at hand. So for now, I am breathing a sigh of relief.