I had lunch yesterday with the lovely Madame Queen and we got to talking about our animals after her story about Sweetpea barking all night. I used to be really, really, really in to my pets. I was one of those people that swore it wouldn’t change when I had a child. Guess what, it did. The more I think about it though the more I realize that it had already changed before I even got pregnant and it had nothing to do with procreating.

The husband and I have THE worst luck with dogs. We both love dogs but we simply can’t seem to keep them alive to old age. It isn’t that we do anything in particular to cause their demise we just seem to have the worst luck EVER.

In August of 2004 we lost what was most certainly the best dog ever. His name was Satchel and he was a red-tri Australian Shepherd. He was a month shy of three years old. This dog was truly our baby and he was such a great dog. I spent lots of time doing lots of extracurricular activities that involved Satch. We did obedience training and clicker training. We took agility classes and we went the dog park frequently. I would have done flyball with him had there been somewhere close by to do it at the time. I actually forged several friendships with people because of these activities. And I enjoyed them very much.

Not only was Satch an excellent athlete but he was well trained and generally a pleasure to be around. He was super smart, I even taught him to play the hi-hat in one of our clicker training classes. This was in part to prove that I could teach him to do it but also so that he could overcome his fear of my husband’s drums.

He did have his flaws so it wasn’t always roses. He was not the biggest fan of children because he had a rather traumatic incident with a toddler when he was a puppy. And he was absolutely not willing to share his home permanently with any other dogs. He was fine with any visiting dogs but the few times we entertained adding to our canine family he let us know right away that that was not an option.

We live in Georgia so it gets pretty dang hot here in the summer. In July of 2004 we went to the dog park with a group of people and dogs working with a local rescue group. It was a fenced in area and all the dogs (fosters included) had a great time running around. The thing about Satch was he was CRAZY for the tennis ball. Like would. not. stop. It didn’t matter how tired he was if someone threw that ball he had to go get it. IT WAS HIS JOB! With all the commotion I didn’t realize that various people had been throwing balls for him nonstop for quite sometime. I should have made him rest but I wasn’t paying attention.

On the way home I noticed he was panting awful hard and then we arrived home and he was lethargic and then began vomiting. A quick peruse through google led me to the conclusion that he was having a heat stroke, which if left unchecked basically leads to death. I quickly carried my 50+ pound dog from the yard up two flights of stairs and into the tub to try and cool him down. Then we whisked him to the emergency vet. He had indeed had a heat stroke but he survived. He spent a week at the vet and it took a month for him to recover.

In August he began throwing up again overnight and we had no idea why. We rushed him to the vet in the morning and they determined that he had an intestinal obstruction. This was a complete and total surprise. Satch wasn’t the sort of dog that really ate or chewed up things and since the incident in the summer he had barely been out of our site so I had no idea how he’d gotten into something. We still don’t know. He had emergency surgery to remove the obstruction which the doctor said seemed like chalk or something but that she couldn’t really identify. He survived the surgery and was transferred to the emergency vet for monitoring overnight.

We went to visit him and he was resting and then we went to hang out with some friends close by. While visiting we had both left our cell phones in the car. When we got back in the car we both had messages from the emergency vet. We both knew without even listening that he’d died. And we were both immediately heartbroken. Amazingly I was the one that held it together as my husband broke down. My breakdown came days latter while sitting at my desk at work.

The entire ordeal was so emotional and left us with a gaping hole as a sizable vet bill. The hardest part was trying to explain to people just how painful it was to loose this dog. Some just didn’t get it. I vowed to never have another dog because this just simply hurt too much.

A month later we bought a red merle Aussie pup. His name is Bodhi and he is so very sweet. The opposite of Satch in so many ways. Ways that are good. And I love him dearly. But I don’t treat him the same way I did Satchel, even before we had Boog. It’s almost as if the experience of loosing Satch has made me keep my attachment to my pets at arms length.

About two months after we lost Satch a dog showed up at our local pound who looked so much like him we simply couldn’t let her be put down. We fostered her and decided to keep her. She is a crazy, dominant bitch and although I love her I TOTALLY get why she was at the pound. She is nothing like Satch and the more we got to know her the less she even looks like him. We kid that SHE will be the dog that lives until old age, just for spite.

baby Satchel and a 22 year old me

Satchel (best dog ever) 9/13/01 – 8/12/04

The current Knuckleheads, Sierra and Bodhi