Dooley

Today is a particularly sad day. I just buried 'Dooley' with the help and comfort of my daughters, sons-in-law, and my four grand children. He's lying on the slope going up to the roadside, the one he used to run up so often pursuing chipmunks, the possibility of finding the red fox out in the open, omnipresent grey squirrels, and of course the people who had the audacity to walk his road. It seems appropriate that there are two chipmunk holes next to his grave. There are wildflowers placed and a lovely triangular stone at his head. So everytime I glance out a window on the front side off our home, I will remember.

Mickey Dooley's death was a result of respiratory complications following a lengthy procedure for the removal of thousands of porcupine quills and this required anesthesia for 4 hours. It was an enormous trauma for a dog, even for such a dog as 'Meister'.

He was struggling for breath and trying to clear his lungs when he was home for a short while. I know that he was worried, and I am glad that his fear and struggle are over. I will remember.

His job was to hunt and he did it well. His other job was to be with me as much as possible - the car, the fire, the squirrel shooting thrills, watching me in the water and hoping that I would splash drops for him to catch, leaping for 'hose', triple or double ball in the evenings (he was ready and knew the game would begin as soon as he heard the ice go into my glass), and protecting me in our home , car, and walks on the bike trail. I will remember.

'Do' will be remembered for his enjoyment of watching T.V. Perhaps he watched too much, but oh how he could jump and how alert he was to music and tempo changes in plots. He was the only dog I knew that bit his nails. Foggy will miss Dooley's attentiveness to drying her after her many swims. He took a paternal interest in her. Today Fog is walking the house with a toy in her mouth and looking for 'Do' to show it to him and evoke his interest. A ritual for these two wonderful friends was a daily wrestle complete with much growling and snarling was the noisy one.

Dooley was a beautiful, fluid mover; he was a joy to watch as he trotted along, merrily and jauntily and always with seeming purpose. He has made his indelible mark on me and everyone in the family. We will remember.