Last Monday we said good-bye to Marni Louise Williams...She was ready, we were ready. We only wish it hadn't had to happen so close to losing Buddy, but, hey...life happens.
I had never grown up with dogs and was NOT, in any way, a dog person. I wasn't afraid of them or anything...I just didn't like the way they smelled and had a few traumatic experiences of going into people's homes and being keenly aware upon entering that this was a "dog house" or encountering people who's clothing was permeated with dog smell. URGH--no thank you.
When Mark and I got married, he started talking about getting a dog. I told him that if we ever got a house with a yard, then I would consider it. Less than 6 months after we moved off the island and into our home, he called me on that consideration. I wasn't jazzed about it but I relented.
We got Marni 2 weeks before Christmas in 2004. Originally, we had thought of getting a boy, "Solomon" but after visiting the owners and fussing over the new brood, this little lump seemed to attach herself to me...While I wasn't smitten to say the least, she was kinda cute. We couldn't take her home for a few days so the owners painted her toenails red so we'd know she was ours. When we left my hands smelled like peas.
Having never done "puppy", I had no clue what to expect...and my worst expectations were met pretty quickly. She howled this high pitched awfulness the first few nights we brought her home. She peed and pooped everywhere. She was into everything. It was like having a baby I didn't want. URGH. On Christmas Day 2004 I took her for a walk before I was planning on heading over to my in-laws for dinner while Mark was working. I noticed her trying to eat rocks on our walk and kept digging them out of her mouth every few feet. About an hour after we'd returned, as I was getting ready to leave, I noticed her stomach start to swell bigger and bigger. I rushed her over to the animal hospital and waited in the waiting room as the doctor tried to figure out what was wrong. I cried and cried...A woman sitting next to me said soothingly, "I know, I know. We just love them so much don't we?" I couldn't bear to tell her that I was crying because I hated this dog and was missing Christmas dinner. Turns out she'd swallowed 12 rocks--12 ROCKS. She couldn't vomit them up so we had to bring her back to the hospital every few days to make sure they were passing. "Cha-ching cha-ching" each time. Within our first 2 weeks of getting her she'd cost us a lot of money (something else I wasn't happy with).
We gave her "Solomon", a stuffed chocolate lab, so she'd be more comfortable. That seemed to do the trick when we tucked them both into her crate a night. She was also house trained pretty quickly...another bonus.
She still liked to take things...
The teen years weren't fun at all. It seemed like every day she'd try to redecorate the walls by chewing on them.. She even ate through to the electric wiring in our kitchen. URGH.
We came home one time to discover she'd eaten our family room couch...URGH.
I decided that if I was ever going to get anywhere with this dog I'd have to train her. And train her I did! All the basics (sit, heal, lie down, etc.) but we both taught her lots of other words/habits also--we'd say, "Lady" before she accepted a treat and she'd do so gently...Mark taught her how to balance cheese on her snout...She knew "outside", "who's there", "peanut butter", and "check the mail"...My feelings began to change...
She became less of a hassle for me and more of a joy. Because I was "Mommy", I was the Master. She'd follow me everywhere and we developed a routine. She knew I cleaned on Saturdays and that afterwards she'd get a walk, even in the rain. Heck, ANY day I had off she knew it and would follow me around until I took her out...She knew I made soup on the weekends and that she'd get her fill of produce.
She loved to lay outside with me while I read on the deck. She loved every family member that stopped by. She loved vegetables, cheese, peanut butter, and marshmallows. The only things she couldn't abide were thunderstorms and when the power went out. In those cases, we'd let her outside to "patrol" the yard for an hour. I guess she wanted to make sure we were safe.
When we found out she was sick in March, we decided to decide that we'd seen when to "decide". 2 of the best things I heard/read were you'd rather be 2 weeks early than 1 day late in saying goodbye to a pet and that when your dog can't just be a dog, then it's probably time.
We'd noticed a decline a couple of weeks ago...but last weekend sealed it. She wasn't able to go to the bathroom fully and she'd been panting non-stop and seemed quite upset with this. No fun.
Her last day was full of love and wonderfulness (for her anyway). All her favorite snacks, lots of hugs, kisses, and lots of belly rubs.
There were lots of tears on our end, of course. But we knew it was the right decision.
I was remarking to Mark yesterday that I don't miss having a dog...but I miss her. As difficult a time I had with her in the beginning I ended up loving her more than I ever thought I would. It's amazing how much more of a presence a dog is in your life--not just the responsibility piece but even the physical presence. The morning after, it was so quiet in the house when I came down in the morning...I think I wouldn't have given anything to hear the clicking of her toenails and her morning yawn just one more time. I bawled like a baby.
We named her Marni because I'd had a book of baby names from the Bible (I guess for my own kids someday--oh well) and Marni means "to rejoice"in Hebrew. We decided that having a Hebrew name made her Jewish and Louise seemed like an appropriate middle name (not that I know any Jewish women named Louise but when we'd say her name in a Jewish accent--"Mah-nee", Lousie just seemed to fit). Besides being filled with rocks, one harrowing 24 hours after eating the rest of the Easter lamb, ripping off a dew claw, and thunderstorms, I know this dog was joyful all her years...and yes, so was I. Rest in peace, Marnsters...
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