RIP Moocow 17/8/2008
Little dogs you expect to somersault, but it always came as a surprise that a big dog could, even though really it was thanks to the fact that your mother could jump fences that we got you in the first place - and do it over and over again. I'll still remember the 2 & 1/2 one, where you landed so heavily I could hear cracking sounds - you stopped doing somersaults after that but you still leapt so high that I could believe you thought you were flying and I wished I could jump like you.
You were a silly bright intelligent dog, too good to us kids, though you played with us so much just the same - a tomboy girl just like us - going up and down the slide, joining us on the top of the wooden bus, you even joined us to lie on the trampoline though it was clear it was not your favourite and you avoided that as much a possible.
We'd play fetch & tuggawar. You liked fetch and were good at it - except for the whole letting go thing, running fast for the long ones, leaping high to catch the high ones - those were the ones that brought about your infamous somersaults. But tuggawar was fun too as I got big enough to be able to lift the toy and you with it - wagging your tail furiously.
Some of the toys were too big for you to catch so we played soccer instead with you as a centre/goalie, and I'll always remember, calculating how to throw the basketball just so - so that you could throw it back. It was those balls that had me convinced you wanted to join the circus with the way you'd balance your front paws scrabbling on top sometimes rolling it near the back of the house, if we threw them away from you for you to chase.
I'll remember how you used to torment the neighbour with our old wooden rickety fence - she said you'd come over to poo on her side - and she could tell your dog poo apart from her dogs - as theirs went dry and white where as yours stayed brown and smelly - much harder to clean up.
You raged war with the plants - you'd wait until the tomatoes were big and green - with just a hint of red - and pop them off with a fierce snap. The bird of paradise had a pathway straight through and no flowers for many years - though it's health came back as yours declined.
I'll remember your garbage gut ways - you'd eat anything we didn't want taking leftover meat from our plates then look at daddy-kins with big eyes and get your own meal. I remember that horrible, horrible canned fruit salad that mum won a bet on - saying you'd eat it. And so you did but with slow gulps and big eyes - as if saying - "well just for you". But it wasn't just that as you'd also steal food from the guinea pigs - you'd figured out if we were careless and left their plate of food close to the edge, your long tongue could roll it out.
The poor guinea pigs - you'd steal apples left on the top of their cage and crunch them nearby as they watched and you were always jealous when we fed them, so we always offer you bits of what we were feeding them - you didn't like it - lettuce leaves were not to your taste - but you always insisted on having a bit first - just in case.
You'd try to drive them crazy in other ways as well, charging at their cage but stopping just before - banging into cages hurts after all - just to drive them crazy. The babies always scattered but the Matron of the Clan, Princess always called you on it - you never could get her to budge while she was in the cage. Outside of the cage was a different matter though, and when they escaped you helped nose them back to where we could catch them.
I remember working on a science project outside, giving up with loving exasperation on getting you to stay out of the photographs, and instead including you in them as my assistant. I marked you harshly with only 3 points out of ten - for enthusiasm and cuteness, but lack of opposable thumbs interfered severely with your capabilities - but after I thought maybe I marked a little too harsh - since I'm still convinced I got bonus points for making the teacher laugh.
You were good at that - making people laugh - one of the neighbours used to come out just for your walks - one of the manholes - and only that one, you would do a dance upon, a raging circle of bounces and barks. We could never figure out why that manhole and only that one - were their rats? Did you smell your toy that floated down into the gutter at one point and kept it up in memory? But it always seemed to be your favourite point in the walk.
It was so sad watching as the years went on, and instead of you taking us for walks it became the other way around. At the end you were exhausted just going a block down the hill - and it took an hour just to come back.
I know working dogs don't live that long, but 15 years still seems too short. Dad was always too embarrassed to tell your name to the vet, but to me you were and always will be - the bestest dog in the world - Moocow.
You were a silly bright intelligent dog, too good to us kids, though you played with us so much just the same - a tomboy girl just like us - going up and down the slide, joining us on the top of the wooden bus, you even joined us to lie on the trampoline though it was clear it was not your favourite and you avoided that as much a possible.
We'd play fetch & tuggawar. You liked fetch and were good at it - except for the whole letting go thing, running fast for the long ones, leaping high to catch the high ones - those were the ones that brought about your infamous somersaults. But tuggawar was fun too as I got big enough to be able to lift the toy and you with it - wagging your tail furiously.
Some of the toys were too big for you to catch so we played soccer instead with you as a centre/goalie, and I'll always remember, calculating how to throw the basketball just so - so that you could throw it back. It was those balls that had me convinced you wanted to join the circus with the way you'd balance your front paws scrabbling on top sometimes rolling it near the back of the house, if we threw them away from you for you to chase.
I'll remember how you used to torment the neighbour with our old wooden rickety fence - she said you'd come over to poo on her side - and she could tell your dog poo apart from her dogs - as theirs went dry and white where as yours stayed brown and smelly - much harder to clean up.
You raged war with the plants - you'd wait until the tomatoes were big and green - with just a hint of red - and pop them off with a fierce snap. The bird of paradise had a pathway straight through and no flowers for many years - though it's health came back as yours declined.
I'll remember your garbage gut ways - you'd eat anything we didn't want taking leftover meat from our plates then look at daddy-kins with big eyes and get your own meal. I remember that horrible, horrible canned fruit salad that mum won a bet on - saying you'd eat it. And so you did but with slow gulps and big eyes - as if saying - "well just for you". But it wasn't just that as you'd also steal food from the guinea pigs - you'd figured out if we were careless and left their plate of food close to the edge, your long tongue could roll it out.
The poor guinea pigs - you'd steal apples left on the top of their cage and crunch them nearby as they watched and you were always jealous when we fed them, so we always offer you bits of what we were feeding them - you didn't like it - lettuce leaves were not to your taste - but you always insisted on having a bit first - just in case.
You'd try to drive them crazy in other ways as well, charging at their cage but stopping just before - banging into cages hurts after all - just to drive them crazy. The babies always scattered but the Matron of the Clan, Princess always called you on it - you never could get her to budge while she was in the cage. Outside of the cage was a different matter though, and when they escaped you helped nose them back to where we could catch them.
I remember working on a science project outside, giving up with loving exasperation on getting you to stay out of the photographs, and instead including you in them as my assistant. I marked you harshly with only 3 points out of ten - for enthusiasm and cuteness, but lack of opposable thumbs interfered severely with your capabilities - but after I thought maybe I marked a little too harsh - since I'm still convinced I got bonus points for making the teacher laugh.
You were good at that - making people laugh - one of the neighbours used to come out just for your walks - one of the manholes - and only that one, you would do a dance upon, a raging circle of bounces and barks. We could never figure out why that manhole and only that one - were their rats? Did you smell your toy that floated down into the gutter at one point and kept it up in memory? But it always seemed to be your favourite point in the walk.
It was so sad watching as the years went on, and instead of you taking us for walks it became the other way around. At the end you were exhausted just going a block down the hill - and it took an hour just to come back.
I know working dogs don't live that long, but 15 years still seems too short. Dad was always too embarrassed to tell your name to the vet, but to me you were and always will be - the bestest dog in the world - Moocow.
Feel better soon.