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Is there a doggie psychiatrist in the house?
So, we said our good-byes to our dog Daisy last week. Cancer has taken another good soul. Now she's gone, and my husband, my daughter and I have been searching for all our best pics of her and passing them to each other on Facebook chat. A sort of three-person memorial service for the internet age.
When the other two dogs line up for Milk Bones, they leave the exact amount of space Daisy used to take. It'll be a while for that space to close up, I'll bet.
They are both terrier mutts with lovely, tiny brains, and occasionally they seem to wonder why it's just the two of them. Here's the weirdest example of their befuddlement. (Don't read this while eating.)
My kid came over to do her laundry a few days later. While she was visiting, the youngest terrier did something she's never done before: she brought some dried dog poop in the house, put it down on the floor near the couch, and started ... playing with it. Like, rolling it around. We wondered if it she found it in some corner of the yard, recognized it as a relic of her old friend, and brought it into the house, to the only human nearby, in order to ask about the missing dog who originally laid it ...? Or to share it with family, as a memorial for the doggie age ...?
I mean, if the poop even was Daisy's, which hello. We're no poop experts. All I know is, that act was decidedly a one-off for the young terrier, and it was freaking weird.
When the other two dogs line up for Milk Bones, they leave the exact amount of space Daisy used to take. It'll be a while for that space to close up, I'll bet.
They are both terrier mutts with lovely, tiny brains, and occasionally they seem to wonder why it's just the two of them. Here's the weirdest example of their befuddlement. (Don't read this while eating.)
My kid came over to do her laundry a few days later. While she was visiting, the youngest terrier did something she's never done before: she brought some dried dog poop in the house, put it down on the floor near the couch, and started ... playing with it. Like, rolling it around. We wondered if it she found it in some corner of the yard, recognized it as a relic of her old friend, and brought it into the house, to the only human nearby, in order to ask about the missing dog who originally laid it ...? Or to share it with family, as a memorial for the doggie age ...?
I mean, if the poop even was Daisy's, which hello. We're no poop experts. All I know is, that act was decidedly a one-off for the young terrier, and it was freaking weird.
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Only you could make me chuckle in the middle of all this. I'm so sorry! I had no idea. I've been so wrapped up in my snotty, coughing little world for the last week, I didn't realise you lost Daisy. I hope you are okay. Perhaps they did find a 'leftover' from Daisy and wanted you to know she was still around - in a rather diminished capacity.
{{{Hugs}}} and love.
PS. It's funny you should mention the space they leave for Daisy when they line up for treats. The boys still do that for Bosco as well. I will say that now he is gone, they are a lot calmer and much more mellow, but he is still missed for the cat he once was.
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After my father died, his dog was quite distressed. I gave her one of his sweaters that still had his scent.
Re dog poo, playing with it isn't as bad as eating it. Some dogs do, I had to stop Sophie from doing this.
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I found my two dogs went a little odd for a while after the third passed away a few years ago. They're fine now, but they both did some very strange things for a few weeks after Suze died. Must be their way of coping.