One Less Organ to Worry About!

Back in March of 2006, Sophie became pretty sick so I took her to the vet. Surprisingly, the blood work showed her liver enzymes were extremely elevated, so she had to stay in the hospital for a few days to get fluids. The vets weren’t sure exactly what was going on, but after many tests, they finally determined there was something going on with her gallbladder and it was affecting her liver. Surgery was likely the only solution. We determined it would be prudent to take her to a nearby vet school to handle this, especially since we didn’t know exactly what they would find.

I drove her over on March 28th and she had the surgery the next day. It was interesting to deal with the vet school.  They were all very kind and it was nice to have so many top-notch doctors and gung-ho vet students taking care of Sophie.  I knew she was in good hands.  The surgery was very successful, and there weren’t any surprises that we had feared (i.e. tumors, etc).  They found that she had sludge (ick!) in her gallbladder, so they removed the whole thing and that was that. I picked her up a few days later.  It was a bit shocking to see her shaved in various places (they did a skin biopsy because her coat had been looking thin of late).  She looked pitiful.  The first couple of days she was home were a little rough (thank goodness for pain pills and emergency clinics), but gradually things got back to normal and she made a full recovery.

Sophie on the day I brought her home from the hospital (Apr. 2006)

Poor baby. Her beautiful coat was a mess. But it grew back better than ever.

When Sophie Met Spicy

When I adopted Spicy the cat in Dec. 2006, I had a feeling Sophie would be okay with it, although I worried that she might be “jealous” about sharing my attention. But my fears were completely unfounded. Sophie adjusted to having a cat in the house with the typical carefree calm I’d come to know and love in her over the years.  In fact, she was so casual about having Spicy around, I could say she basically ignored this new critter in the house. Spicy was much more interested in Sophie than the other way around. However, once Sophie discovered this new animal came with new food, she started to take a little interest. I had to feed Spicy where Sophie couldn’t get to it, but she was always hopeful she might get a crumb here and there – just like a good little Hoover.

Spicy sneaking past a sleeping Sophie (say that 5 times fast!)

Contentment in the kitchen

Over the years, Sophie always tried to appear nonchalant about Spicy, but I know she liked her presence. She let Spicy sniff her toes or her ears. She even let her lick her fur sometimes. They slept next to each other on the bed. And Sophie let Spicy sleep in her downstairs bed without fuss. She would just pick another spot or let me put her on the sofa. When I came home from work, I would find both of them in my bedroom. Sophie was gated in there, but Spicy could go anywhere in the house. She just liked to be where her buddy was.

Sophie and Spicy enjoying a peaceful day napping in their favorite spots.

"Why does my buddy smell so nice? I think she just got her hair cut again."

After Sophie died, I know Spicy knew something was wrong. But gradually, she has started to adjust to, and even like, receiving more of my attention. She is much more clingy, but also very affectionate (which is what I’ve needed during this time). I miss Sophie every day and we had many years of life experiences together, but I shudder to think how bad it would’ve been to lose her if I hadn’t had my other 2 pets to keep me company.  Warm critters just make life better.  We all miss you Sophie.

Spicy

Freddie

When Sophie Met Freddie

When Freddie the ferret suddenly came into our lives in October of 2005, I was nervous about how Sophie would react. She had always been very good with other dogs, but I didn’t know how she would do with a small animal (there is a hamster story that I could share that might raise alarm bells). Plus, she had enjoyed my undivided attention for 5 years.

The moment of introduction went fine. There was tentative sniffing and curious looks. And things continued that way until Freddie discovered that it was fun to sniff and then BITE on Sophie’s toes. And when Sophie discovered that this little critter was CAPABLE of biting her toes, she became a lot more cautious around him. So I never left them alone together, not because of what Sophie might do to the little guy, but because of what the little guy’s teeth could do to Sophie.

Here are a few pictures of them together.

Freddie and Sophie — when they first met, they enjoyed a calm relationship.
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Uh-oh! Freddie has taken an interest, but Sophie is still blissfully ignorant of his powerful teeth.
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Freddie also liked sniffing Sophie’s ears. That’s why this blanket is on Sophie – to give her some protection during Freddie’s play time. And, don’t worry, I rescued her from his rambunctiousness right after this photo was taken.
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Sophie videos

I had forgotten about taking these videos of Sophie with my digital camera in Oct 2006.  They are both videos of our routine when I’d get home from work.  Sophie would trot outside to potty and then she’d come back in a do a little circle and prance to the kitchen to get fed. She’s a little confused in these because I’m holding something and not moving the way I usually do.  We’re both creatures of routine, so she’s saying “why are you messing with the routine?”  I’m sorry both videos are basically of the same thing, but they are the only videos I have of her.  That’s a big lesson for me … take more videos of the people/pets you love because one day it will be too late.

Her coat is really full too, so she looks like a puff ball.

This last video shows Sophie resting on my bed while Freddie is on the floor playing. I used to let Freddie come in my room for a little bit of fast-paced playtime before bedtime. Freddie was a little too rambunctious for Sophie, so I would just put her up on the bed out of the way.

Little Hoover

One of Sophie’s occasional nicknames was Little Hoover.  This came about because she loved to cruise the kitchen, sniffing the floor, looking for crumbs.

My housemate at the time I got Sophie was a frequent, and enthusiastic, chef.  When she started cooking, she was not tentative or slow about it, so the occasional morsel would make it onto the floor.  And Sophie soon learned that the closer she was to the action, the greater likelihood she would get a little sample of what was going on up there on the counter.  So, the kitchen became her favorite room in the house.  And it was for all the years I had her.

She usually liked to be in the same room with me, but if I was near the kitchen, she would go in there and start the rounds.  I could here her toenails on the floor and her little nose sniffing, and I knew Little Hoover was “cleaning” the floor.  I will admit that I’m not the world’s best housekeeper, but I will say that it was rare for her to actually find anything.  But I guess the potential of it was strong enough to keep her on the hunt.  At least it kept life interesting for her … and kept my floor spotless.

Look at the little grin on her face. I wonder if she's thinking about all the floor "cleaning" she's going to do later. Or maybe she just knows how cute she is with her fresh-from-the-groomer haircut.

Traveling

When I was transitioning from Florida to Georgia, I had to make a number of trips back and forth.  And, of course, I always took Sophie with me.  She was a good car rider and did well on the 7-8 hour drive.  She would get a little nervous leading up to the trip because suitcases were being packed and I was making lots of trips in and out the door with stuff.  But when I finally came back for her, put her leash on, and carried her out the door, she knew she wasn’t going to be left behind.

I put a towel on the passenger seat and her bed in the floorboard with her water dish. She would look around out the window for awhile and then finally settle in the seat or her bed for a nap. Sometimes she would come a lay on my lap.  She was never a bother.

I would stop at the last rest stop in Florida – about halfway into our journey.  When traveling alone with a dog, making stops becomes a bit tricky.  I don’t like leaving a dog alone in a car, even for a few minutes, but this was just a necessity.  None of my trips were in the heat of summer, so that made it easier.  But I developed a routine that seemed to work for us – I’d get the car as cool as possible prior to stopping, run inside to do my business as fast as possible, then when I came out Sophie would get a nice walk, and finally, some food – for both of us.

That is one of the wonderful things about small dogs – they are so portable.  And Sophie had the perfect temperament for travelling by car.  If I was taking a trip by car, I always took her with me.  I considered taking her on a plane ride too when I would go out West to my parents, but as easy-going as Sophie is, I know that she does not like being in a small enclosed case like a dog carrier.  So, I never took her on a plane.  I’m sure she would be glad about that if she knew where I went when I would leave her for a week or so every year.

Pics from Sophie’s “uncle”

My brother sent me a couple of pictures he took in June of this year when he was here visiting.  They are both of Sophie on the kitchen rug in front of the sink.  In one picture you can see part of Freddie the ferrets play pen, which I have in the kitchen.  It was part of our routine for Sophie to trot around Freddie’s pen and sit down on the rug to await one of her favorite parts of the day – food time.  She would look up at me intently and if I took too long, she would do a little step or two with her front paws letting me know she was ready to eat.

When I had her food ready and would go to put it in her food area, she would excitedly prance over to her bowl and go to town on her meal.  It’s simple routine, but one that happened multiple times every day.

Is it dinner time yet?

When I sit here, my mommy gets my food ready. I love my food. I love my mommy, too!

Training

One thing I discovered about adopting an adult dog that had been rescued from a breeder was that she didn’t have some of the basic training that most dogs get while living in a home.  Who knows what kind of environment she lived in or how long each day she had to stay in a cage or how much personal contact she had.  She must’ve had some because she was such a sweet dog, but not enough to learn basic skills.

So on top of her timid personality when she came to live with me, she wasn’t potty trained and she didn’t know how to walk on a leash.  Since our A-Frame had tile floors on the ground level, it was easy to limit her access to the carpeted areas and still give her enough space to have some freedom.  At first I would gate her in the hallway while I was gone, and then we gradually expanded her access areas as she became more reliable in her potty habits.  After she graduated to full access to the tiled living area, I thought she was doing really well until one day my roommate and I discovered the one area we had neglected to consider – the area rug in the living area.  Sophie had taken a liking to that area and had been piddling on it.  I wish I could tell you that she was ever completely broken of that habit while I lived there, but I don’t think she ever really was.  And really – if you had spent 6 years of your life having 2 litters of puppies a year, you might have some bladder control issues too.

But as Sophie got older, she was better about knowing that outside was for potty and that a little scratch at the door would give her access to it.  And when she did have an “accident”, she was very good about confining it to the rug in the bathroom, which is easily washed.

The other issue Sophie needed help with was walking on a leash.  I would put it on her and she would just stand there.  I’d give it a little tug and she would resist and look scared.  It took a bit of work to get her to understand what I was wanting from her and to walk well on a leash (and I’m not a dog-training expert).  In the beginning, even after she got moving, she would frequently stop and just stand there.  I would tug a little bit and then finally just pick her up for a few steps and set her down again.  That usually got her moving.  I realize that probably was not what a dog trainer would do and I was probably reinforcing the behavior, but at the time, it was what worked.  And for awhile, she also didn’t quite get that it was okay to walk with someone besides me who had the leash.  If my roommate would take her out, she would just stand there for a good while and take a bit of coaxing to move.

Gradually, this problem was resolved as well.  She learned what her harness and leash were for and that it meant an exciting trip outside to stroll the neighborhood, see the sights, and smell the smells.  She did have a cute little stubborn streak.  When there was a something she was intent on smelling or investigating, she would put her full 8 or 9 pounds into her harness and drag me to it.  It always amazed me how strong such a little dog could be.  But taking walks was really one of her favorite things to do and for all her life with me, we usually went on at least two walks of 10-15 minutes a day in addition to the brief potty breaks outside.

I haven’t been for a walk in my neighborhood since she passed.  I don’t know when I’ll feel up for that, but I will do it someday when I can think of the joy it was to walk her and not the absence of her little feet in front of me.

The A-Frame

When I adopted Sophie, I lived in a rented A-frame in the country on the outskirts of Orlando.  She was very timid at first, not a cowering type, but just a little insecure and unsure, and ever-so-eager to please.  My roommate had the upstairs, so we didn’t want her going up there unattended during the day.  We put up a gate at the bottom of the stairs, and soon, we didn’t even need it because she just figured out that she wasn’t allowed up there.

The ground level had Mexican tile, and she loved to lay on it in front of the sliding glass doors.  It was the perfect vantage point to watch the birds, horses, and other animal life in the area.  Often when I’d come home in the evening, I would see her sitting in front of the glass doors waiting for me.  Then she’d come running to the main door to greet me.

I usually left the house in the morning before my roommate and often she was having her daily quiet time in her recliner in the living room.  It was not unusual to see her reaching down and stroking Sophie’s fur as she held her Bible with the other hand.  Sometimes Sophie was up in the recliner with her as I said goodbye for the day.

At night Sophie usually slept on my bed, but at some point in the night she would jump down to get some water.  Around the time my alarm would go off, she would come over beside the bed because she knew I would reach down and pet her.  She would roll over on her back to get her belly rubbed as I layed there for a few minutes before getting up.

We lived on a beautiful piece of property with the landlord’s house further back, on the lake, and the horse corral and barn in front of us.  Our daily morning walk took us all over the property, under the live oak trees and towering bamboo plants.  In the evening and on the weekends, we would take a long walk down the quaint country road.  She loved to sniff (and mark) all along the way.  It was a friendly neighborhood and I quickly became known as the girl with the fluffy dog.  As a shy person who does not like to draw attention, I had to get used to people noticing us.  But I also found that Sophie was a safe conversation starter and opened doors for me to talk to people I never would have otherwise.  It didn’t happen everyday, but through the 2+ years we lived there, we got to meet a number of our neighbors.

I loved that house and I loved the way Sophie slowly came out of her shell to show her sweet, perky, intelligent, and adorably stubborn personality.

Sophie (?/?/1994-12/8/2008)

In her patriotic scarf. She's an American Girl.

Look at all that hair. And she looks like she wants to say something.

She's guarding the Christmas tree. Or keeping an eye out for Santa.

Adoption Day

October 20, 2000.

That was the day I drove from Orlando to the rescue group to pick up my new “baby”.  I had found her sweet face on Petfinder.com after a year or so of contemplating getting a dog.  The photo was of her looking over the shoulder of the man holding her.  Her name was Peaches.  I emailed the rescue group to see if this cute little dog was still available.  She was and we arranged a meeting in the next couple of days.

When I walked into the home of the rescue, I was greeted by a bunch of fuzzy dogs anxiously wondering who the new person was.  There were orange dogs and black dogs and white dogs.  All cuter than cute.  It was a surprisingly organized type of doggie chaos.  After talking to the lady for a moment, she pointed out this little dog (not the littlest in the room, by the way) that was calmly standing a bit away from all the chaos, but still looking up intently at me.

When I finally picked her up, she snuggled her head into my neck.  They had told me she was a snuggler.  And she lived up to the hype.  After holding her for awhile, the lady gently said that maybe I should see what I thought of some of the other dogs that were available.  There were a couple of little black ones and they were awfully cute.  But there was something about this Peaches that had captured my heart.

I finally said, “This is the one I want.”  The good thing about this organization was that this lady and her husband did this for the love of animals.  All of the animals who were not adopted would live with them forever.  So I knew that all of them would have a good home, one way or another.

Since all of this had come about very suddenly, I felt that I needed time to prepare my home for a dog – get all the doggie stuff that was needed.  So I put down a deposit, and told her I would be back in a week to get Peaches.

As the week passed, I got very excited.  I had planned to go on a Saturday, but I just couldn’t wait and went on Friday instead.  I invited a friend of mine from work and her teenage daughter to go with me to pick up my new “bundle of joy.”  In the car on the way over, I started thinking that the name Peaches just didn’t seem right.  And the poor dog didn’t seem to respond to her name (makes you wonder about the lack of personal contact she’d had during her life).  A new life needs a new name.  So, I went through a few names and suddenly the name Sophie popped into my head.  “That’s it,” I thought.  That is perfect for her.  So from that moment on, she was Sophie.

We picked her up and said our goodbyes.  She did look nervous and actually got a little carsick in the backseat with my friend’s daughter.  But little did she know that this was just the beginning of a whole new life – for both of us.