Farewell, sweet Sadie

We said good bye to our sweet girl, Sadie, today. She was a precious dog who could have inspired Marley & Me with her antics (watch here)... who was a walking medical miracle ... and who endearingly captured our family's heart for nearly 13 years.

Sadie at rest

We rescued Sadie in February 2003 with the help of Aunt Mary's Dog House, and I can still see her romping in the living room of our old house the first day we met this energetic pup, and knocking down baby Emma. She was a beautiful husky mix with a soft white coat, black and brown markings on her face, one blue eye and one brown.  There were no two Sadies -- on so many levels, she was unique.  Let me explain.

What the heck is separation anxiety?

As with most rescue dogs, you often wonder, "How did this sweet dog wind up on the street? Who would have let her go?"

It didn't take long for my wife and I to realize what might have happened with Sadie.  While sweet and lovable, she had severe -- really severe -- separation anxiety and destructive behavioral issues.  Leave her alone, and watch out.

We left her in a pet crate for about 20 minutes one time and re-entered the house to find she had made a Houdini-like escape from the locked crate after drenching the floor with saliva and chewing on a nearby end table. Once out, she tore about three feet of linoleum off the basement floor and shredded the carpet on  the stairs trying to find us. She was inconsolable when left alone and went into a frenzy trying to find her family.

She would also go berserk if she was left alone outside in the yard, or whenever people walking dogs passed by our house.  She devoured every window sill facing the street and chewed the spindles on the deck gate that was trying to keep her in the yard.

After a few weeks of discovering Sadie's condition, we found a behavioral specialist in Pennsylvania, whom we thought could help. We were desperate and I remember feeling so relieved when the doctor told us how severe Sadie's anxiety was. It was just therapeutic to speak with someone who understood what we were dealing with and could explain it. The doctor put her on a mix of medications that would help moderate -- though never totally solve -- her behavioral issues.

Sadie in her devilish prime

Oh, the stories that Sadie has provided over the years (see my earlier post on a runaway stroller escapade):

• One spring, we arrived at my in-law's house in Ohio just as their contractor was putting the finishing touches on a brand new deck. They were so pleased. Within two hours of us getting there, however, someone "left" Sadie outside when some other guests arrived and in a matter of 15 minutes she had devoured ten of the wooden spindles on the brand new deck.  When we continued to visit Ohio over the years, I just brought a checkbook to cover Sadie damage.
  
• The drive to Ohio was also filled with Sadie antics. It wasn't long before we realized we couldn't stop at the usual highway rest stops with all the grass and amenities for dogs. Sadie would go crazy trying to get to meet the other dogs. Not in a sweet, "oh, isn't she cute" way.  More in a "mad dog, Tazmanian devil, frothing at the mouth" way. She did a backflip once trying to slip out of her leash. She also crawled under our minivan once to find a friend, who went yelping back to his owner. She just wanted friends.
  
• When we moved to a new house, we apparently put a bed too close to one of the front windows on the second floor. Sadie had been on "watch," perching on the bed and looking out the window when she saw a neighbor walking her dog. She started barking like crazy, knocked the screen out of the window, and was about half way out the window when our neighbor rang the doorbell to tell my wife her crazy dog was about to jump out the window.
  



"Hello, neighbor."

• On too many occasions to count, Sadie would escape from the house and wander through our suburban neighborhood. She became quite well-known amongst our Butterworth neighbors.  She would gleefully make the rounds visiting neighbor's yards and dogs.  I could rarely catch her because she usually bolted through the woods and into the yards.  I would roam the streets with a piece of cheese and a leash, getting clues from helpful neighborhood kids, or listen for barking dogs that she had surprised with a visit.  She eventually took pity on me and either came home or found me and "let" me catch her. One time during a winter snowstorm, she collapsed in the middle of the road because the rock salt was all in her paws and she could barely walk.  I got to carry my 50 pound pup home in three feet of snow.  She was happy to see me that time.

The gentle protector

Sadie was also quite a gentle protector. She must have been abused in her past because she would bark at any large man who came into the house and watch out for our kids. Sadie knew my father her whole life, but whenever he came in she would incessantly bark at him until he sat down somewhere. Then, she would watch him quietly or until she would walk up to him for some rubbing behind her ears (she loved those rubs).

Ever watchful

In all her years, as crazy as she was, she never bit anyone. And to be honest, after 10 or 15 minutes of her continuous barking at a visitor, you kind of wished she would've just bitten them just to shut her mouth and stop the barking (just kidding).

The nine lives of Sadie

Sadie also was a bit of a medical miracle dog. Besides her severe anxiety issues, she dealt with slipped disks in her neck and back; a heart murmur that disappeared after a year; a strep infection which made her brain swell; ulcerated corneas; pancreatitis, liver problems; inexplicable tremors and shakes (which also came and went for no reason); a banana-yellow, wrapped up tail that she had chewed on; glaucoma, which led to terrible pain, daily medications and blindness in one of her eyes. We should have a wing named after her at the veterinary hospital.

We thought we were going to lose her several times in the past, but she always rebounded. This week,her spirit was still willing, but weakened, and her resilient body finally failed her.

Rest peacefully, my sweet Sadie 

Over the years Sadie's destructive side faded with age and she mellowed quite a bit.  She became more of a sweet old lady. She loved walks and would start each one with youthful energy and enthusiasm, but the walks became a lot shorter the last few years as she aged.

Gus and Sadie

She would still play around with her more youthful mates -- the friends she had been chasing and looking for all those years in the rest stops. Gus, my brother in-law's weimeraner, towered  over Sadie and could've broken her in half with one twist, but they became best pals. This year, even Gus saw how frail she was getting and he somehow intuitively knew how far to push her.  I'll remember their playful wrestling matches
forever.

It's sad to think she won't be here next week when I come home from work.  Even on her most weary days, she would get up and greet me with a tail wag and a happy look (many days she was the only one who was happy to see me). I could always count on Sadie.

I hope she's resting now -- or running after some other dogs up in heaven.  The truth is that tonight, it will be me who feels the sadness and anxiety of my separation from her. Rest peacefully, sweet Sadie.  We will miss you and always love you.

Apple Trees Make Apples

You may be familiar with the the saying "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," which means children are very similar to their parents. My friend Mark likes to twist that adage and say, "Apple trees make apples." He usually says it to me when I am complaining about one of my kids' less-than-flattering displays of stubbornness (Will), impatience (Tess) or inability to hear someone when they don't care what they are saying (Emma).  Imagine that?

I find myself thinking about "apple trees" more and more as I see Will growing up.

Will is a rule follower just like his dad.  Tell us the rules.  Paint us the box. And we will live with them, no matter how stupid or unfair they might be.  We usually try and negotiate a fair set of rules in advance -- or in Will's case he might evolve the rules to his advantage in the games he makes up. But, if there are rules we can usually live with them.

Chess Rules

Recently, Will has been learning to play chess with me.  Lots of rules to learn there.

He has been very quick to pick up the game.  He clearly thinks a few moves ahead, sees the whole board and is beginning to grasp the implications of each move he makes (today, he was even coaching sister Tess).

The first few times he played he was still getting familiar with how each piece could move differently.  However, one rule he learned right away was that once you let go of your piece, you couldn't move it again -- even if you then realized it was going to be taken.

So one game, he moved his knight three spaces and over one, instead of two spaces and over and he took my queen.  He then quickly let go of the knight.

I told him, "Will, you can't do that.  The knight only moves two spaces and then over one. It should be here."  He knew he was caught, but he also knew the rules and quickly retorted -- "But, Dad, your rule is once you let go of the piece... you can't move it again! So, he can't go back to the other space."  Gotcha, Dad! A rule is a rule.

We discussed the merits of which rule really counted in this case, and Will decided he would no longer play that day if I wasn't going to play by the rules.  

A Rule Is A Rule

At this point in my blog post, my mother is chuckling to herself and thinking you got what you deserve. She is also beginning to recall stories of her own son, who liked rules and had his own strong sense of fairness.

When I was in 8th grade, my teacher was getting very frustrated with our class at the end of one very long day. Spring fever had set in, graduation was on the near horizon, and students weren't as studious or prepared as our teacher would've liked.

She announced that she was going to ask one more set of questions from the chapter, and she expected someone to answer them -- besides Billy Price who had been answering all the previous questions -- or we would all be staying after school.  Well, when no one else could answer her questions (except me whom she wouldn't call on), the last bell rang, and she kept everyone after school -- including me.

Well, that wasn't fair.  She was changing the rules -- and I told her I shouldn't have to stay after school.  The teacher didn't appreciate the merits of my argument this day and sent me to the principal's office. Now, I didn't go to the principal's office very often in my eight years at Our Lady of Mercy, but on this day I knew I was right and I was ready to make my case. Certainly, the principal Sr. Rose Mary would be on my side.  She knew the rules.  She knew what was fair. I knew the answer to every question our teacher had asked, but she wouldn't let me answer them.  Why did I have to stay after school?

My train of logic derailed with Sr. Rose Mary, too, and so I went back to class to serve time with my classmates.  Another loss for the rule follower.

Will the Negotiator

Will has become quite the negotiator of what is fair and isn't fair in his own right.  For the last year, going to Sunday mass has become an unbearable torture for Will, usually ending in tears, crying and slamming doors.  No manner of persuasion or argument can convince him this is a good use of this time.

Most Sundays in the battle of wills (or Wills, in this case), I would win the battle, but lose the war.  He would go to mass crying, tear-stained and seething, and I would also go to mass ticked off -- and not in the most Christian mindset, other than praying to God for more patience.

When his grandmother came to stay with us for a few weeks, she would go to the early mass, and for a couple of Sundays, I took the path of least resistance after arguing with him, and just left him home with Grandma when the rest of us went to mass.  This was not a long-term solution, but it certainly made for more peaceful Sundays.

There is nothing -- other than his mother -- that Will loves more than his electronics -- Nintendo DS, iPad, XBox, etc.  So, one Sunday, I told him, "Look here is the deal, if you don't go to mass like a good boy and without any screaming, then you will not be able to have any electronics for the entire day.  It's one hour at Church or a whole day without any electronics.  That's the rule."  He agreed begrudgingly.

The next weekend I told him the same rule that we had established.  He turned to me and said, "Well, Dad, you don't leave for Church until about 9:30, so I can keep playing my games until then, since I COULD go with you until you leave.  But, I am going to stay home with Grandma, and once you come back from Church I will give up my electronics the rest of the day. I am not going to church."  Gotcha, Dad! A rule is a rule.

And so, the truth is apple trees make apples -- even rotten ones some days.  :)