Honey died today. She was a stray beagle I had found back in 1997 as I was driving along Dequindre Road on the east side. There was an 18-wheeler truck ahead of me on the road; I saw this tiny dog run right in front of it and thought I would be witness to a murder (which was how I felt at that moment). Miraculously, the dog made it to the other side of the road. I was able to immediately turn into a driveway on the same side of that road in order to try and rescue the dog. I just called out to her and for whatever reason, she came right to me. And...as they say...the rest was history.
My husband and I never had pets growing up. Unless you count the fish I had in middle school that my mother got sick of looking at after several months. I used to keep it in one of those built-in shelves in our kitchen in its own little glass fishbowl. I remember I got the fish at Kresge's for under a buck and brought it home in a plastic bag filled with water. What I can't remember is why my mother decided it was time to dump the fish into our neighbor's backyard one day after school. After that moment in time...my "history" with pets at my parents' house was over.
My husband, on the other hand, once managed to train some stray pigeon to stick around his house during the summer of his thirteenth year. He said it would hop up and down the basement stairs, peck birdseed out of a paper plate, and even posed once for a picture taken outside on the top rung of his father's ladder. My husband even named the pigeon---but it took off one day anyway never to return.
Needless to say, here we were decades later and suddenly we are a family of three---with a dog. Honey was what is referred to as a "lemon" beagle, which means she was ginger and white colored all over. She was also (unlike me as her "mama") able to maintain a fighting weight of 20 lbs. throughout her sixteen year lifespan with us. I tried many times to emulate her dietary habits over the years, but somehow the idea of eating 3/4 cup of dry kibble out of a bowl twice a day ruined everything for me.
Honey wasn't the smartest bulb in the pack. One time we threw a blanket over her to test her doggie IQ; instead of finding her way out from under it, she just laid down. The next test was to put some kibble under one of three tin cans and see if she could knock away the "right" can to get at the food. All she did was look at us as if to say "Now what?" Epic fail. Even when we put the kibble under one tin can, she didn't make the connection. Again, very cute and a real tail wagger, but not so bright. She also developed the habit of howling every morning at 3:15AM to eat "breakfast" (don't ask me why, but she did starting at around age six or seven!). Even more confusing, my husband fed her breakfast at 3:20AM each morning as well. Since he didn't deliver newspapers for a living, I'm still mystified as to how he managed that pattern with Honey for so many years.
Honey also loved to hold her urine. She would bark to be let out, yet had to be on a leash or tie-out at all times so she wouldn't run off. As soon as we would get outside, that's when Honey would decide a nice stroll around the property was in order before she even thought about actually relieving herself. How many hours I spent waiting and waiting and waiting some more for her to "Honey Pee Pee Potty Right Now!" I have no idea. Probably 10,000,000; at least that's what it felt like to me.
By the time Honey was nearly ten years old, we acquired another beagle as "company" for Honey and as a 21st birthday gift to our daughter. Our daughter was thrilled; Honey not so much. The new baby beagle (Snickers) was absolutely adorable. Honey responded to her as if to say "Who in the )$#* are you and when are you leaving?" It took a long time before Honey actually allowed Snickers to actively interact with her. When it came to food, doggie treats, and scraps however, Honey drew the line. When Honey growled and barked "Stay away!" Snickers and the rest of us knew to do just that.
As the years progressed and Snickers grew, Honey did mellow out to the point of letting Snickers sleep next to her, in front of her, behind her, and around her. During the past two years, Honey's hearing and eyesight went south; during the last eight months, so did her heart. By the time she passed, Honey was long overdue for a peaceful and long-lasting rest. Dying at home and on her favorite couch and blanket, we could only be grateful she was taken quietly and without any drama or undue trauma attached.
We know that no one can understand the place pets have in our lives and hearts without also being or having been a pet owner. Honey taught us a lot about unconditional love and the exchange of care. She taught me that no matter how challenging she was or could be over the past sixteen years, her love for our family knew no bounds. That was made clear when I ran downstairs the morning she died to watch her take her last breaths after I had spoken to her directly. Was she waiting for me to "get there" before she died? I don't know. It feels like she was. I can only pray where she is at now is a place where she can run free and without the need to bark anymore at 3:15AM for breakfast.
RIP Honey; you've been a good girl.
My husband and I never had pets growing up. Unless you count the fish I had in middle school that my mother got sick of looking at after several months. I used to keep it in one of those built-in shelves in our kitchen in its own little glass fishbowl. I remember I got the fish at Kresge's for under a buck and brought it home in a plastic bag filled with water. What I can't remember is why my mother decided it was time to dump the fish into our neighbor's backyard one day after school. After that moment in time...my "history" with pets at my parents' house was over.
My husband, on the other hand, once managed to train some stray pigeon to stick around his house during the summer of his thirteenth year. He said it would hop up and down the basement stairs, peck birdseed out of a paper plate, and even posed once for a picture taken outside on the top rung of his father's ladder. My husband even named the pigeon---but it took off one day anyway never to return.
Needless to say, here we were decades later and suddenly we are a family of three---with a dog. Honey was what is referred to as a "lemon" beagle, which means she was ginger and white colored all over. She was also (unlike me as her "mama") able to maintain a fighting weight of 20 lbs. throughout her sixteen year lifespan with us. I tried many times to emulate her dietary habits over the years, but somehow the idea of eating 3/4 cup of dry kibble out of a bowl twice a day ruined everything for me.
Honey wasn't the smartest bulb in the pack. One time we threw a blanket over her to test her doggie IQ; instead of finding her way out from under it, she just laid down. The next test was to put some kibble under one of three tin cans and see if she could knock away the "right" can to get at the food. All she did was look at us as if to say "Now what?" Epic fail. Even when we put the kibble under one tin can, she didn't make the connection. Again, very cute and a real tail wagger, but not so bright. She also developed the habit of howling every morning at 3:15AM to eat "breakfast" (don't ask me why, but she did starting at around age six or seven!). Even more confusing, my husband fed her breakfast at 3:20AM each morning as well. Since he didn't deliver newspapers for a living, I'm still mystified as to how he managed that pattern with Honey for so many years.
Honey also loved to hold her urine. She would bark to be let out, yet had to be on a leash or tie-out at all times so she wouldn't run off. As soon as we would get outside, that's when Honey would decide a nice stroll around the property was in order before she even thought about actually relieving herself. How many hours I spent waiting and waiting and waiting some more for her to "Honey Pee Pee Potty Right Now!" I have no idea. Probably 10,000,000; at least that's what it felt like to me.
By the time Honey was nearly ten years old, we acquired another beagle as "company" for Honey and as a 21st birthday gift to our daughter. Our daughter was thrilled; Honey not so much. The new baby beagle (Snickers) was absolutely adorable. Honey responded to her as if to say "Who in the )$#* are you and when are you leaving?" It took a long time before Honey actually allowed Snickers to actively interact with her. When it came to food, doggie treats, and scraps however, Honey drew the line. When Honey growled and barked "Stay away!" Snickers and the rest of us knew to do just that.
As the years progressed and Snickers grew, Honey did mellow out to the point of letting Snickers sleep next to her, in front of her, behind her, and around her. During the past two years, Honey's hearing and eyesight went south; during the last eight months, so did her heart. By the time she passed, Honey was long overdue for a peaceful and long-lasting rest. Dying at home and on her favorite couch and blanket, we could only be grateful she was taken quietly and without any drama or undue trauma attached.
We know that no one can understand the place pets have in our lives and hearts without also being or having been a pet owner. Honey taught us a lot about unconditional love and the exchange of care. She taught me that no matter how challenging she was or could be over the past sixteen years, her love for our family knew no bounds. That was made clear when I ran downstairs the morning she died to watch her take her last breaths after I had spoken to her directly. Was she waiting for me to "get there" before she died? I don't know. It feels like she was. I can only pray where she is at now is a place where she can run free and without the need to bark anymore at 3:15AM for breakfast.
RIP Honey; you've been a good girl.