Saturday, August 1, 2009
Well, this is going to be a difficult post to write. The topic is just sickening to me. Stewie was killed by a car on Monday morning. He ran off when I neglected to watch him closely. He just never went anywhere, so I had become complacent. My house sits a good half mile back from the road. He ran a couple of miles down the road and I was about fifteen minutes behind him, but despite walking all the way to the end of the road with Rip, I couldn't find the little guy. I asked all the neighbors and someone had seen him running, but for some reason I was not able to locate him. I did call him, but since he doesn't negotiate sound very well, it may not have helped. He may have picked up my track, because he found his way all the way back before he was struck right in front of my mailbox.
At least it was quick, and he didn't suffer. He's buried by the big rock in my front yard, right by the burning bush and the crabapple tree.
I've had a tough time dealing with this, because not only did I love the dog, but he had a most comical way about him and managed to make me laugh during one of the most difficult times in my life. I feel that losing him is just very bad timing. It's extremely depressing.
He had many funny habits. He used to attack his food, snarling and growling and throwing it around. Even though I tried to desensitize him by dropping bits of chicken into his bowl, that only excited him more. He never offered to bite me -- he would step away if I tried to handle the food. He just wanted to kill it before eating it. So I finally gave up. It was hysterical to watch him.
He had toys that he would savage the same way. The bigger and heavier the toy was, the more he liked it.
When he walked on a leash he would grab the nearest part he could reach, and tug on it, then swing around and flip like a fish on a line.
He was so feisty and yet such a good boy. He came when I called, and tried hard to do everything I asked of him. When I picked him up he would grunt and snort while trying hard to lick my face.
He was only eight months old. He was born with a disability but he was bright and it didn't slow him down a bit. He had a mighty spirit. He brought me much joy during the five short months I had him.
Here is a link to his YouTube video:
What a great little guy he was. I've been crying for days -- I wish that his story had a happier ending.