Homage to a great dog.

Yesterday, my brother, Vance, had to have his dog, Liza, put down. She was 15 years old and was recently diagnosed with Cushings Disease. While she was technically Vance's dog, she belonged to us all. As my mom said yesterday, "She owned us all." In the time she was with us, our family went through a lot- joys and sorrows alike. I think that is a big part of what makes pets so special- not just the companionship that they provide, but that they are a living representation of what happens in our lives.

I think that for a lot of us, it is embarassing to be so attached to our animals. After all, they are not people. But, honestly, I think it's ok. To an extent, at least. (I mean, buying clothes for pets is crossing a line.)

But back to Liza... I want to share a few memories that stick out:

- When Mom first got her: She had promised Vance a dachshund for quite some time, but it had been delayed for one reason or another. One afternoon/evening while I was at choir practice in Snellville, Mom found an ad for dachshund puppies in the paper. When I came out to the car after practice, there she was! So tiny and wrapped in a towel. I think she just weighed a few ounces. We kept her in Mom and Dad's bathroom, and I remember going in there and sitting with her because I didn't like to hear her crying.
- One evening while Dad was walking her (along with Taffy and Lolly, our other dogs at the time), a neighbor asked if he was walking a rat- because she was so small!
- Vance was the mascot at Ole Miss while he was there, and one break he brought home his Colonel Reb head. I remember him coming into the kitchen with it on, and Liza went nuts! She was barking and hopping back and forth; I suppose because she was scared of him. I can't blame her. People in costumes are freaky!
- One evening at St. Simons, I took Liza down to the beach to walk. It was low tide, so I let her off the leash so that she could run. She went tearing off along the beach but stopped after a couple minutes, and I could tell that she was rolling around. (If you are not familiar with dachshunds, they are notorious for wallowing in anything smelly.) When I finally caught up to her, she was rolling on a dead pelican. And she smelled like death. I could hardly keep from gagging as I walked her home, where she promptly got a bath. Sheesh!

I don't know if this is more difficult because I am away or if maybe it's just tough no matter what. I am glad, though, that I got to spend time with her before I left. She was not herself these past few months, but that doesn't change what she means to us.