I am sorry I called you out for referring to Rosie as having been "put asleep", as opposed to put "to" sleep. I slapped back. You hit me while I was down, and I hit you back. I am sorry for that. I will not have a blog that is a place for fighting and arguing. It is relatively easy to lash out on the internet. If this had taken place in Real Life, perhaps in Walmart...
Scene: Woman, aka "Anonymous" (I am assuming we are dealing with a "she", since guys aren't so...well, let's just say she is a she.) Anyway, "A" finds out that while I am shopping for a new bike with my son Samuel, who just got hired for his very first job working for the county at the high school this summer, and needs to ride back and forth to work since I am way too lazy to get up at 6:30am to drive him, although I said I would do it gladly if it is raining....so if I had gotten in a conversation with "A", which wouldn't have been surprising, since I was walking around in a daze, sniffing and dripping tears....and IF she had been so bold to tell me in person that it was horrid of us to do that and it was probably because we had so many kids...I probably would've just started sobbing and told her she was right.
The truth is, A, you don't know the whole story. Some people do think animals have more rights than people. And some people ARE really cruel to animals. The thing is, Rosie was the little girl with the little curl right in the middle of her forehead...when she was good she was very very good...
Three years of working with her. She was learning how to catch a frisbee. She was a whiz at playing, "fetch", but she loved when Sam and I chased her around. She would run for a while, then just collapse in a random place and just put her head on her paws, and she was done. She never chased cars while playing with us. Sam and I were consoling each other after she passed yesterday...we determined that we didn't do too shabby a job with Rosie. She didn't jump on people anymore, she totally stayed off the furniture, she didn't take food off the table, which she could reach easily, except for cupcakes. She stole cupcakes a few times, they must have smelled so good to her. She would sit and lie down and shake, and when she felt like it she could come to us when we called her. She was happy. That's the thing. Each and every morning, rain or shine, she was happy. She would be lying there in her cage, and when I came down the hall into the living room, her tail would start thunking and thunking. She was smart too, because she didn't really care much if other were up and and about, she knew that I was the one who would be taking her out for that wonderful amazing walk, the walk that never failed to thrill her. It tired her out too, she would come home and eat and get a huge drink, and flop somewhere for a huge nap.
But it WAS work. I rarely tied her up. I let her run around the yard with one of the boys or me, then kept her in the house or on the deck. But one day a few weeks back it was really hot out, too hot for the deck, and she really wanted to lie down in the shade of the trees. So I tied her up. She didn't mind, she just settled down and watched for Bad Cars. Well, that day we had a New Mailman. Rosie barked and I came down from the deck, where I was talking to Benjamin on the phone, and told Rosie to stop barking. She ignored me while lunging, breaking the chain, and chasing that New Mailman's car. The New Mailman didn't just drive away like the Regular Mailman, no, he just idled while I got Rosie. I was of course in my bathing suit, which I had been swimming in when the call from Ben came, and it wasn't my flattering one, ha. So there I was out in the road trying to get Rosie to come to me, assuring the New Mailman that normally I would hang up the phone, but I was talking to my son in Afghanistan....he just nodded like it was all in a day's work. I caught Miss Rosie, and into the house with her.
She WAS a sheepdog. She liked to herd things, like cars and tractors. We had to be extra careful on Thursdays because she really wanted to protect us from the Man Who Took Our Garbage.....
Yes, she was a challenge. But I would never get rid of a dog who was a challenge. I had to pray for patience more than once. There were countless times I thought I had bitten off more than I could chew with Rosie-The-Bad dog, but she was part of our family, and getting rid of her was not an option. I loved her.
I am tired of all this now. I don't much care whether one person thinks I am evil and selfish and stupid. I have worse things to deal with, like this empty dog cage, and her red rug, and the two extra bags of Purina Dog Chow sitting here. And the hopeless expectation of her running over and putting her head on my lap. Last night I couldn't eat my dinner, and I said to Emily, "If I look at this burger one more time and think, "I'll give that to Rosie", I am going to scream!" When we first got home yesterday, a truck drove by really slowly, and of course I looked for her, thinking I had to grab her before she chased it. Then I remembered. That's what I keep doing. Forgetting, then remembering. Over and over again.
Today, we are going to the beach. Lots and lots of us, I think 13 of the kids. It will help to get out of here. Sam is going up a little later with Emily, so he is going to take the cage down before he leaves, I think.
Anyway, thank you again for all the kind words and encouragement, because I really feel bad, and am sorely tempted to wonder if I did the right thing, even though I thought and thought and prayed about it beforehand....and Anonymous, I am truly sorry for slapping back. But I am not sorry that we have so many beautiful children, and I am not sorry that we got Rosie in the first place. She had a wonderful life here, and truly experienced love.
Miss Anonymous, I didn't take my walk this morning. I just couldn't. I am having a hard time. I thought I would be able to sleep after this whole thing was "resolved", but ha, it has been horrible. I was with her when she died, and it wasn't as smooth as it was when I was with Champ.(Champ was our faithful dog for like 14 years, he was old and tired and going blind....) Rosie was a Bad Dog, she growled at the vet and had to wear a little disposable muzzle. She knocked the I.V. out, and didn't die as planned, the assistant had to run and get more "medicine". It wasn't nice, it wasn't fun, there wasn't anything good about it. I hugged her and told her how sorry I was, but.....sorry, this is really hard. I KNOW I did the right thing, but....?