11-29-05

We got the latest People magazine the other day. The 20th year celebration, even! A lot of trees have died so people can read about silly celebrities shagging other silly celebrities.

The old Craigman came up short again. I'm sure it was close, but Mathew McConaughey was voted Sexiest Man Alive.

By gosh, I demand a freaking recount. What the crap does he have (other than being a movie star, lots of hair, no beer gut, money and fame) that I don't have.

That's just not right, people. At least I have never been arrested playing bongo drums in my birthday suit.

It's almost frigid in the heavetown today. Glad the wind stopped blowing so hard or it would almost be nipply out. We certainly don't want that now, do we?

My duck's still dead. At least his little feet aren't sticking up out of the water any more. I'm trying hard not to mourn the little fellow. Still hope he'll float up to the edge and retrieve his corpse before some wild animal eats him for lunch, so I can give him a decent burial.

He will take his place next to the other dogs and cats I have buried. Over the last year or so, we have lost two dogs and several cats.

Here is something I wrote about our Dachshund Oscar when he died in August of 2004. It was as hard to lose him as it was when Harley passed away.

An Ode to Oscar the dog

Almost five years ago, my wife told me she wanted to buy a Dachshund from some people near Bokoshe.

I argued that wasn’t a good idea and gave the usual reasons why, that a dog is messy, will pee and poop inside, etc.

One day she decided to get one anyway and came home with a little weenie dog. He was a male and tiny, able to fit in a hand with no problem. I thought he looked like a rat and gave him the nickname of “Rodent”, one that was seldom used the more I got to know him.

We decided to name him Oscar, as in Oscar Meyer since he was a weenie dog, a name he shared with thousands of other Dachsunds.. His registered name was Oscar dela Halladog. He wound up with other names like: “Oscardog”, “De Big Guy” and “Shorty”, names that never did him justice.

But what he became known as best was “friend”.

He quickly worked his way into our hearts as we watched him grow into the dog he eventualy became.

Oscar was not the easiest dog to deal with. He was stubborn and pretty much did what he wanted. If we did not give him enough attention, Oscar would get into mischief, like chewing on the couch. When we caught him, he would have a look on his face like “yeah, you caught me, but I had a heck of a time!”

If we wanted him to go right, he usually went left, or might go right just because that was what he wanted to do.

One day he came up missing and we were frantic, wondering where he was. Eventually, we discovered he followed some kids walking up the mountain next to our house, despite his short legs. We found him out of breath, of course, lying in the shade.

He wasn’t really much of a guard dog and seldom barked at visitors, Oscar had too much love and liked people too much for that. But let a cat or bird bother to venture into our backyard and he got rid of them quickly. Oscar was fearless when he needed to be, especially when possums dared to trespass on our deck.

Oscar attacked them with a viciousness that was impressive. A possum can be scary with that ugly face and the long teeth, but was no match for our Oscardog.

He was a member of our family, of that there could be no doubt. He celebrated holidays and birthdays with us, usually right in the middle. Many a visitor was greeted by Oscar, who sometimes grew so excited he left a little gift on the guest.

Oscar was a little on the lazy side at times and loved getting in bed, crawling under the covers and sleeping for hours on end. He also liked hanging out on the couch or chair, just taking it easy.
But he was always up for a walk around our property, always moving at a pace that was hard to keep up with despite his little legs. And when the mood struck, he was a determined digger, leaving numerous holes in the backyard for us to step in.

Oscar was stubborn, as mentioned previously, but had smarts that were uncommon for a dog. His head might be small compared to other dogs, but he was certainly not cheated for smarts.
If asked if he wanted to go for a ride or if we shook keys in front of him, Oscar knew it was time to go for a ride and would run around all excited. Once we left, he would stick his head out the window and let those long, droopy ears flop in the wind, all the while smudging up the window as he tried to sniff outside, always on the lookout for cows or horses that he needed to scare off to keep them from attacking our vehicle.

My wife could simply say something about going to bed and Oscar would act like he was shot out of a cannon, tearing through the house toward the bed, hoping to snuggle down under the covers and keep us warm, or vice versa.

Oscar was sensitive in a way that was beyond belief. When everybody was happy, so was he.

But if somebody was hurting or sad, he would be there, trying to lick or love us back to happiness.

He was our constant companion over the last five years. Oscar never indicated whether he liked watching “chick flicks” or football games, but never complained, always keeping whoever had the privilege of being near him company.

Oscar was not perfect, of course, no dog or human is. He preferred using the bathroom in the house instead of outside, if possible, and had the unique talent of sitting up on his rear, waving his arms to catch our attention, while begging food from us while we ate.

He never asked for anything other than food, drink and our company. When life was sometimes cruel or we needed a friend, he was always happy to oblige.

Oscar helped raise two other dogs, giving up some of his quality time with us, but never complained. He was not fond of the outdoors, unless the weather was perfect. If it was wet, cold or hot, that just wasn’t his cup of tea.

Over time, his fondness of eating and sleeping helped get him too heavy. Old Oscar loved to eat and sleep and did not get the exercise he needed.

On Friday, Oscar was his usual self, running around and playing with Daisy, the little weenie dog puppy we got a few months ago to keep Oscar company. He showed the energy of our four-month old puppy, chasing each other and wrestling. But on Saturday, Oscar did not feel good and Sunday brought no relief.

On Monday, we took him to the vet, expecting a quick recovery and him to be home by noon after a little shot of medicine, ready to be our companion again.

The phone call came around noon from the vet, informing us Oscar did not make it.

We were all stunned, never believing something that was such a big part of our life was taken away. It was a terrible blow and we cried and felt bad all afternoon.

During the course of my life, I have lost close relatives and friends, but having to pick Oscar up from the vet and bury him in the backyard was one of the toughest things I have ever done.

Everywhere we look, there are memories of him. The holes he dug in the backyard, his toys, the holes in the couch and his pictures on the wall.

Daisy is confused, of course, looking for Oscar and wondering where he is. She runs through the house, looking for his usual hideouts, but like us, cannot find him.

Some people would argue he was only a dog and we should not feel this way. It’s true, he was a dog, but was much more than that. A part of us died yesterday and left me wondering why this happened.

After all, we prayed for his recovery and had no doubt Oscar would make it through. He was only five and had plenty of living left. But it is one of those things we do not have the answer for.
I believe God must have needed a good companion.

He blessed us with Oscar for almost five years and let him make our lives better, but was ready to give Oscar his permanent home.

One day, I pray to see him again. When I walk through the Pearly Gates, I expect to see Oscar waiting, wagging his little tail, then run and jump into my arms, no longer chubby, sick or hurting.

P.S. his holes are still there.