BEST OF FRIENDS--PAW WISE - ELIZABETH TOWLES (tools of titans ebook txt) 📗
- Author: ELIZABETH TOWLES
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grass. Her return steps were handled with greater care as she gingerly tested each paw placement. Meanwhile, Babe watched all the action with a quizzical twist of her head. She stood as though a stature, her eyes fixed on Dobie, and waiting for her buddy to return to safety. We finally had to take Babe to the side entrance where only snowy grass greeted her before she would venture out the door.
One Wednesday morning, John discovered a swollen area on the right side of Dobie’s hip. He immediately took her to Dr. Hawkins, who was now a familiar face to our pets. The prognosis was Cancer! The vet operated on Dobie within the hour. After waiting a couple of hours for the effects of the anesthesia to subside, Dr. Hawkins finally told John he could take Dobie home. It was now Babe’s turn to be the caregiver, and she rose to the occasion. She spent many hours lying quietly by Dobie, although frequently nudging Dobie with her moist mouth, apparently seeking a physical connection to her friend. Babe was the picture of patience, having put aside, for now, her boisterous behavior.
After several days, their play continued in the familiar routine and we hoped the crisis was over. However, that was not to be. In a few short weeks Dobie’s growths returned. They grew rapidly. At this time Dr. Hawkins informed us that tumors were prevalent in large dogs. We were devastated. As the days rushed by, Babe seemed to know her time with Dobie was limited. She never left Dobie’s side. When Dobie became extremely weak, John had to force Babe outside so he could concentrate on making our Doberman’s last hours less painful. He held Dobie close, coaxing her to swallow pain medication. Babe was standing at the back door and gazing into the laundry room. The sadness in Babe’s eyes increased our grief. She appeared to sense Dobie was struggling toward the end. We were losing a cherished member of our family. John was with Dobie when she took her last belabored breath.
Scott, our son, was making plans to share an apartment with a friend. John and I didn’t have to ask that Babe remain with us, Scott knew the pet’s heart and ours had already formed a bond that begged to stay intact. Now truly, our son’s dog became ours!
Babe was a lonely little dog without Dobie. For a short time, she ate very little. When hunger finally won out, she ate with indifference. Seeing her unhappy, downcast eyes, we felt her sorrow, and ours, afresh. We were concerned for her, and saddened for our own loss.
As the weeks went by, Babe slowly began acting playful again. John doubled his efforts in spending more time with her, thereby lessening the hours she spent entertaining herself. We watched Babe from our kitchen window that overlooked the patio and sun-deck as she searched out many forms of entertainment.
She loved chewing and took up the habit of rummaging in the small pile of wooden logs kept for use in the fireplace. The firewood pile was stored in a corner of the enclosed yard until Babe decided to separate it in every direction so she’d have a better view before making her favored selection for the moment. Eventually, she tired of chewing while relaxing on the lower level, so one day after gripping a small log in her mouth, she proceeded up the stairs. Of course after the first step or two, the wood would be dislodged and fall away. The attempts to the upper deck were repeated many times. Sometimes she would make it to the fourth or fifth step only to have the stick knocked loose once again and fall noisily as it hit each step before landing on the concrete. At these times, Babe stood stock-still glaring defiantly as she watched the log on its downward journey. John and I were fascinated by Babe’s relentless pursuit of trying to haul a chewing tidbit to her preferred open play area. One day after Babe had been unsuccessful after a lengthy time of losing the wood, she gripped the stick tightly in her mouth…turned around, and proceeded to back up the steps. John and I stood mesmerized at the window. The small piece of lumber bumped precariously on each lower stair as Babe slowly took one step at a time, yet, the wood remained secure, although getting very wet with her saliva as she held it clinched firmly between her teeth. It was a slow process. Finally almost at the top, Babe began testing her back footing in slow motion. John and I held our breath as she stood teetering at the final step. Pausing shortly, she then backed quickly onto her destination. She dropped her sweating body down at the edge of the sun-deck, gripped her well-deserved treat to one side and began chewing with relish. John and I shared a high-five hand clap.
Our dogs were well known as greeters in the neighborhood to all who passed their way. Together, they had stood as happy sentinels from our second story deck. Now, Babe stood alone, intent on following the tradition of the familiar welcome. One of the local TV stations introduced a human interest segment in its nightly news, and as the new program gained in popularity, John entered the contest, submitting information about Babe.
To our delight, and surprise—Babe was chosen!
The filming was scheduled for a Friday. As the crew set up, Babe investigated each piece of equipment. She licked camera lenses, sniffed tin canisters, and followed electric cable wires with her moist nose as they meandered about in twisted paths. Of course she charmed all with her toothsome doggie smile. John was given a cassette of the taping. It is an amusing anecdote for our family records: Our Babe, The TV Star.
Babe was with us for five more years. Then, late in August on a hot humid afternoon, John found a growth on Babe’s side, similar to the one he had found on Dobie. With heavy hearts, we put Babe in the car and rushed to the vet. Operating on yet another of our pets, Dr. Hawkins said nothing to give us hope, or to lighten our despair. We brought Babe home. Our hearts filled with optimism for her complete recovery. She was fitted with a pleated collar to keep her from irritating the incision and presented a funny sight as we watched her trying to figure out how to get out of the restrictive contraption. After struggling for quite a while, she reluctantly gave up and left it alone. Babe was thrilled when Dr. Hawkins finally removed the collar. She had freedom of movement once again. Making up for lost fun time, she cavorted about the yard for the rest of the day. As John played with her, he dared not hope she would be lucky and beat the odds.
And of course within a short period of time, the inevitable happened. The growths returned. Sadly, we knew what to expect. Once again we were experiencing the terminal illness of a cherished pet. We thought back to the day Babe entered our lives and wondered how we had ever harbored the slightest hesitancy in adopting her.
As Babe was leaving us, we knew her soul was rushing toward Dobie, to being reunited and romping together in doggie heaven—and still, the best of friends.
Copyright/ 2010
Elizabeth Towles
Imprint
One Wednesday morning, John discovered a swollen area on the right side of Dobie’s hip. He immediately took her to Dr. Hawkins, who was now a familiar face to our pets. The prognosis was Cancer! The vet operated on Dobie within the hour. After waiting a couple of hours for the effects of the anesthesia to subside, Dr. Hawkins finally told John he could take Dobie home. It was now Babe’s turn to be the caregiver, and she rose to the occasion. She spent many hours lying quietly by Dobie, although frequently nudging Dobie with her moist mouth, apparently seeking a physical connection to her friend. Babe was the picture of patience, having put aside, for now, her boisterous behavior.
After several days, their play continued in the familiar routine and we hoped the crisis was over. However, that was not to be. In a few short weeks Dobie’s growths returned. They grew rapidly. At this time Dr. Hawkins informed us that tumors were prevalent in large dogs. We were devastated. As the days rushed by, Babe seemed to know her time with Dobie was limited. She never left Dobie’s side. When Dobie became extremely weak, John had to force Babe outside so he could concentrate on making our Doberman’s last hours less painful. He held Dobie close, coaxing her to swallow pain medication. Babe was standing at the back door and gazing into the laundry room. The sadness in Babe’s eyes increased our grief. She appeared to sense Dobie was struggling toward the end. We were losing a cherished member of our family. John was with Dobie when she took her last belabored breath.
Scott, our son, was making plans to share an apartment with a friend. John and I didn’t have to ask that Babe remain with us, Scott knew the pet’s heart and ours had already formed a bond that begged to stay intact. Now truly, our son’s dog became ours!
Babe was a lonely little dog without Dobie. For a short time, she ate very little. When hunger finally won out, she ate with indifference. Seeing her unhappy, downcast eyes, we felt her sorrow, and ours, afresh. We were concerned for her, and saddened for our own loss.
As the weeks went by, Babe slowly began acting playful again. John doubled his efforts in spending more time with her, thereby lessening the hours she spent entertaining herself. We watched Babe from our kitchen window that overlooked the patio and sun-deck as she searched out many forms of entertainment.
She loved chewing and took up the habit of rummaging in the small pile of wooden logs kept for use in the fireplace. The firewood pile was stored in a corner of the enclosed yard until Babe decided to separate it in every direction so she’d have a better view before making her favored selection for the moment. Eventually, she tired of chewing while relaxing on the lower level, so one day after gripping a small log in her mouth, she proceeded up the stairs. Of course after the first step or two, the wood would be dislodged and fall away. The attempts to the upper deck were repeated many times. Sometimes she would make it to the fourth or fifth step only to have the stick knocked loose once again and fall noisily as it hit each step before landing on the concrete. At these times, Babe stood stock-still glaring defiantly as she watched the log on its downward journey. John and I were fascinated by Babe’s relentless pursuit of trying to haul a chewing tidbit to her preferred open play area. One day after Babe had been unsuccessful after a lengthy time of losing the wood, she gripped the stick tightly in her mouth…turned around, and proceeded to back up the steps. John and I stood mesmerized at the window. The small piece of lumber bumped precariously on each lower stair as Babe slowly took one step at a time, yet, the wood remained secure, although getting very wet with her saliva as she held it clinched firmly between her teeth. It was a slow process. Finally almost at the top, Babe began testing her back footing in slow motion. John and I held our breath as she stood teetering at the final step. Pausing shortly, she then backed quickly onto her destination. She dropped her sweating body down at the edge of the sun-deck, gripped her well-deserved treat to one side and began chewing with relish. John and I shared a high-five hand clap.
Our dogs were well known as greeters in the neighborhood to all who passed their way. Together, they had stood as happy sentinels from our second story deck. Now, Babe stood alone, intent on following the tradition of the familiar welcome. One of the local TV stations introduced a human interest segment in its nightly news, and as the new program gained in popularity, John entered the contest, submitting information about Babe.
To our delight, and surprise—Babe was chosen!
The filming was scheduled for a Friday. As the crew set up, Babe investigated each piece of equipment. She licked camera lenses, sniffed tin canisters, and followed electric cable wires with her moist nose as they meandered about in twisted paths. Of course she charmed all with her toothsome doggie smile. John was given a cassette of the taping. It is an amusing anecdote for our family records: Our Babe, The TV Star.
Babe was with us for five more years. Then, late in August on a hot humid afternoon, John found a growth on Babe’s side, similar to the one he had found on Dobie. With heavy hearts, we put Babe in the car and rushed to the vet. Operating on yet another of our pets, Dr. Hawkins said nothing to give us hope, or to lighten our despair. We brought Babe home. Our hearts filled with optimism for her complete recovery. She was fitted with a pleated collar to keep her from irritating the incision and presented a funny sight as we watched her trying to figure out how to get out of the restrictive contraption. After struggling for quite a while, she reluctantly gave up and left it alone. Babe was thrilled when Dr. Hawkins finally removed the collar. She had freedom of movement once again. Making up for lost fun time, she cavorted about the yard for the rest of the day. As John played with her, he dared not hope she would be lucky and beat the odds.
And of course within a short period of time, the inevitable happened. The growths returned. Sadly, we knew what to expect. Once again we were experiencing the terminal illness of a cherished pet. We thought back to the day Babe entered our lives and wondered how we had ever harbored the slightest hesitancy in adopting her.
As Babe was leaving us, we knew her soul was rushing toward Dobie, to being reunited and romping together in doggie heaven—and still, the best of friends.
Copyright/ 2010
Elizabeth Towles
Imprint
Publication Date: 05-31-2010
All Rights Reserved
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