Goodbye, My Little Furry Girl

This entry is being written by Mom.

I've told Zamboni that I don't think it's a good idea for her to write here anymore. We need to finalize Grover's diary. Zamboni can't just keep writing here, as though continuing to write here will keep her alive somehow.

Campeche has taken over as the storyteller of our family. Zamboni has taken over as the Alpha Dog of our little pack.

We are trying very very hard to move on.

We are devastated. Grover was a super nova in all of our lives. Her light shined so bright. Dad and I miss her so very much. Somehow, and I'm not sure how, we will pick up and move on.

Grover will shine in our hearts and our memories forever.

~~~~~~~

I love you My Little Furry Girl, so very much. I can't bring myself to say Goodbye.

Just be a good girl. (You were always a very good girl.)

I'll see you. I'll come get you -- wherever you are -- soon. And we will all be together again.

I promise.

~~~Mom

Me, Zamboni again.

I don't know what to do with myself. Campeche is at the vet getting a bath.

Normally, Grover and I would be playing together, or just hanging out. Or Mom would take us to run errands. That was always great, hanging out in the car together. But I hate being left alone, either home or in the car. I get all stressed out. I've never been left alone, ever. I get scared.

So Mom doesn't want to leave me alone. She's a good Mom. She's really trying to take care of me.

Mom said that Grovie is in Heaven with Robitaille, Lobo and Ralph. Grover and Ralph were always really good friends. Ralphie was Grandma's dog. We knew Ralph very well and for a long time. I hope that he remembers her and makes her feel very welcome.

I hope that Grover will remember me when I go to Heaven, whenever that is.

Mom told one of our staff at the vet that it feels like Grover is at the vet's office getting a bath or some tests done, and she's just waiting for the call for Mom to go pick Grover up. That is how it feels here. It's very very quiet.

This is how life was for Mom and me years and years ago, when I was about 1 year old, before Mom brought home my first packmate, Robitaille. I was lonely then, that's why Mom found me Tai. When Tai died in an accident, Mom and Grover found each other at the pound and we've been together, best friends, inseparable, for almost 11 years.

I am lonely again. Very lonely.

I don't think I will write here any more. It makes me sad.

Although, I don't know if I can be any sadder than I already am.

I wish that we could get that phone call that Grover is ready, and we can go pick her up. But there is no phone call ever coming.

I hope that Grover is having a good time playing with Ralphie.

I am just so lonely without Grover.

--Zamboni

My Best Friend Is Gone

Zamboni Here.

Grovie is Gone.

My best friend ever has died. Mom and Dad took her to the hospital in the middle of the night. She died there. Not from stomach problems either. It was her heart and lungs, Mom told me.

She died very fast. Mom held her, and Dad was right there by her side. And they told her how much they loved her the whole time. She was not in pain either. That's good.

Mom and Dad came home crying. They got Campie and me, and brought us back to the hospital so we could say goodbye too. Mom let me be in the room, just me, Mom and Grovie, like we used to be, just us Girls. I told Grovie I loved her, and she's the best friend ever. I started trembling. How can I live without Grovie? We've been together for over 10 years.

Mom told me that I'll be ok. I don't know how I'll do it. My heart is breaking. I know Mom and Dad's hearts are breaking too.

Farewell, My Friend. You are the best friend ever. You are Mom's best friend and you are my best friend. Save me a place in Heaven. We'll chase squirrels together there!

I love you Grovie!

Your best friend , your hiking partner, and your sister,
Zamboni

Well, it's been a while since I've written in my diary. I've been busy helping Campie with his.

And, well, I haven't been feeling very well.

I kind of ruined Thanksgiving for my family. Mom noticed that I was very sick right in the middle of dinner. My tongue turned blue. She hopped up to take care of me. She never even finished her dinner. I feel bad about that. Because I was sick, Zamboni and Campie didn't get a big Thanksgiving dinner, although Mom cooked us up some special Turkey that didn't have any salt in it. It was good, but not as good as a giant meal, like we usually get.

I don't know. I don't like not feeling well. It messes up stuff for everyone. Everyone says it's ok. They don't mind missing out on a giant meal (Zamboni is supposed to be on a diet anyhow, and Campie doesn't know what he missed. And Mom doesn't eat meat.). But I look forward to Thanksgiving all year long, and I blew it for everyone.

I just wish I could go back to being Good Ole Crazy Grover Dog that never gets sick and always feels well.

Zamboni went to her surgeon about her foot this week, and Mom talked to him about me while we were there. He said I was a "tricky case." I'm not sure what that means. I have another appointment with another doctor next week. I sure see a lot of doctors anymore. I like most of my doctors. They're all very nice, but there sure are a lot of them.

Yesterday, Mom, Dad and I went out and got me something called Oxygen. Zamboni and Campie couldn't come because it was icy out, and Mom thought we might get stuck or something. She told Dad she didn't want to get stuck with Campie in the car. She brought a bunch of cheese, bread and water in case we got stuck. I'm glad we didn't bring Campie. He'd eat all that in two minutes!

The Oxygen people were really nice. They let me sniff all over their office. They explained a ton of stuff to Mom and Dad that I didn't understand, and I understand almost everything about everything. It was very confusing. So I just socialized with all the nice people. I do remember that the people told Mom and Dad that they have given Oxygen to other dogs, cats and even a parrot once, so I think that Oxygen is a good thing for me to get. It must be like a treat or toy or something.

When we left, Dad carried something big and heavy out. It was too heavy to be a toy. It looked like the fire extinguishers that we have all over our house and in our cars. Mom had some stringy plastic things. If those are toys, Campie will chew and destroy those in no time.

When we got home, I rested (I get tired a lot faster now). Mom showed me how the stringy plastic things have a plastic mask thing at the end that goes over my nose. Then it started to softly blow air on my nose.

I hate HATE it when people blow on my face. I usually run and hide under the bed or in the closet, even if Mom or Dad try to stop me. Mom thinks that the people who had me before the Pound did something to me that makes me afraid of people blowing in my face. The Oxygen was kind of like that, but softer.

Mom sat with me on my Special Place bed, and showed me how the Oxygen only blows on my nose, not my whole face. It wasn't as bad as having my face blown on. And Mom was right there, with me.

The air was different. It didn't taste different, but I felt different when the mask was on my nose. I didn't feel quite as tired, but I felt like I could sleep better -- if that makes sense.

Mom said that we are only practicing. So we didn't do this very long at all. She said that we would keep practicing, like we do whenever I learn a new trick.

I don't understand the Oxygen trick exactly. I just lie there while Mom holds the mask on my nose. It's an easy trick. It kind of makes me feel good. Plus Mom and Dad kept saying "Good Girl Grovie!" Dad gave me a cookie when we were done too!

I wish all my tricks were this easy. I wish I felt good all the time, and I wish all my tricks were this easy. Then, life would be perfect!

No, wait. If Thanksgiving came once a week too, THEN life would be perfect!

Be It Ever So Humble...

Ive been feeling really bad today. Guilty. Because I don't feel like a nice dog today.

Yesterday, my water therapy was cancelled. There were storms all over Washington State, and the roads to the pool were flooded. We were getting ready to go when Cindy, my therapist (and one of my best friends in the whole world, besides Mom and Dad and Zamboni and Grandma and Grandpa) called Mom to tell her that we could not swim because we could not drive to the pool. I look forward to Tuesdays, which are swim days, all week long. When Mom told me that we could not go, I was very unhappy. I even got mad. And I, Miss Grover Dog, don't get mad very often. Sometimes, I growl at Campeche. But that is not the same as getting really mad.

But yesterday, I was mad. I even picked a real nasty fight with Campeche for no reason, just because he walked by me. And I did it when Mom was in the shower, so she could not hear it and stop the fight. I just wanted to be mean. I was in a Mean Nasty Grover Dog Mood.

Ok, I was feeling sorry for myself.

But last night, Mom watched TV. And I watch TV. A lot of dogs don't watch TV. But I actually do. I like to keep up on what is going on around the world.

I saw how bad the floods are. They are really bad. Washington is under water. Parts of it reminds me of what Hurricane Katrina looked like (I watched that on TV too). And just like on Hurricane Katrina, the TV showed dogs swimming away from their houses. And dogs being rescued from houses. Some dogs had to be wrapped in people life jackets. They didn't have dog life jackets like Zamboni and me.

(Zamboni and I have life jackets --Mom calls them our CFDs, or Canine Floatation Devices -- because when we go backpacking and have to cross rivers, she wants us to be able to cross safely.)

I remember Hurricane Katrina. Zamboni and I sent money to the Humane Society. We got "Be Kind" collars for that. They are like the "Be Strong" bracelets some people wear for giving money to another charity. We don't wear our Be Kind collars though. We tried to, but we kept almost losing them. So Mom has one hanging from the mirrors in each car. This way we remember to be kind every day.

The floods and homeless dogs make me sad. My cousins, Ralph, Lobo and Kodi, lost their homes in Wildfires in San Diego a few years ago. (Actually, I think they're my uncles because they belonged to Grandma and my Great Aunt Lulu). It was very very hard on them to lose everything. Their beds, their toys, their whole home. And Grandma and Grandpa, and Aunt Lulu and Uncle Skip lost everything too. My Aunt Jill and my cousin lost their house too. The fire took everything.

Those were the only houses that Ralphie, Lobo and Kodi ever lived in. They weren't like Zamboni and me who have lived in a bunch of houses in a bunch of states. We have moved a lot. When I start seeing a bunch of boxes, I start to get worried. Usually, it is just Mom shipping gifts to family for Christmas or birthdays.

But when she starts taking pictures of us off the walls, I know we're moving to a new house, in a new neighborhood. It's always stressful. I like going new places, with new parks, new walks, and new people. And I like having new houses. None of them are ever the same. But moving is always stressful for me and Zamboni. Mom is usually really calm during the move. But I just get nervous. What if she forgets us, or my favorite cookies, or Zamboni's toys? But, she's never forgotten me, or Zamboni, and she's never forgotten any of our favorite stuff. In fact, we usually get to stay at a hotel during a move, and I love hotels. So I'm not even sure why I worry so much during moving time. Except, that I do.

Anyhow, Ralphie and Lobo, who were brothers and have never lived anywhere else except when they were first born, were Zamboni's age. But they were older, because they're big German Shepherds. Losing their houses was very difficult for them. They never recovered. Lobo died after about two months, and Ralphie died after about six months. It was devastating for the whole family.

Kodi, who is younger (he was Ralph and Lobo's nephew), was able to live with some really good dog friends --a whole pack of friends . But still, he had to be away from his Aunt Lulu's family for a LONG time. (I can't imagine being away from Mom and Dad!) Kodi was able to move into his new home once it was done. Mom saw him just this weekend, and said he is doing fine and that he says "Hi" to me and Zamboni.

Anyhow. I remember my cousins. I remember the first time we visited Grandma's new house and how it was very empty without Ralph there. Zamboni was very depressed and would not eat while we were there.

All because Ralph and Lobo lost their homes.

And now, more dogs and other pets have lost their homes.

And yesterday, I was feeling sorry for myself because I couldn't go swimming. I am so lucky that my family has a home, and that my family can make a home wherever we live, because we have lived so many different places. When we're at home, home is our den. When we stay at a hotel, the hotel is our den. When we backpack or camp, the tent is our den. When the weather is nice and we sleep under the stars, being together is our den.

We are really lucky, our den is wherever we are -- as long as we are together.

Yes, that includes Campeche (I guess!) .

Return from San Diego

Mom's back. Whew! She came home yesterday.

I slept all day. I was so tired. I don't sleep well when Mom's gone. I just get really anxious. I know she'll come home, because she always does but still, I worry....

Anyhow. Mom brought Zamboni and me new blankets. Aunt Lulu (who I know from San Diego. Zamboni and I stayed with Aunt Lulu a long time ago when Mom had to go out of town once or twice) showed Mom the blankets that she bought for her dog (our cousin) Kodi. Mom thought it was so nice. It has heavy fabric on one side and thick lambswool fleece on the other. So, the fleece is warm but not too warm for me to sleep on. And if Mom covers Zamboni, she'll be as warm as a little lamb. And they're so big, Mom can roll Zamboni like a little burrito dog.

Mom bought one blanket for me and one for Zamboni and brought them back from San Diego, like souvenirs, except they don't say "San Diego" on them or anything. Mom put one blanket on my Special Place bed, and one on our nighttime bed for now. Very soft and comfy. Good job Aunt Lulu!

Maybe Mom should go away more often?!

Abandoned.

Mom is gone. She left us.

She took one of those black boxes with wheels and left.

Ok, she told me that she's going to Grandma's house in San Diego, where we used to live. She has to do some stuff there. She promised that she wouldn't go to Dog Beach or go on any of my favorite hikes without me.

I sat by the front door, so she wouldn't leave without me. I tried to sit by the car and get into the car when I saw the black box, because I know that the black box with wheels means that she or Dad are going to go away without Zamboni and me. I always hope that if I sit by the car, they'll take me. Sometimes, if Mom is going to the bank or Mom and Dad are going to go out for a casual dinner, if I sit by the car, they'll take me, even if they weren't planning to take me. So I always hope that it will work on these trips too.

It never does.

So she left us.

The good news is that Dad is taking off really early from work so that he can be with us. Basically, he drives to work, then he drives home. Well, it seems that way. He puts Zamboni and me on their bed, and we sleep for a little while, and when he comes home, we wake up. Probably, he is gone a couple hours. It's a nice nap on the bed (I sleep on Dad's side, with my head on his pillow. I like to snuggle on his pajamas. But that gets my fur on them. So he tries to remember to put them somewhere else. But mornings are crazy, with us and the puppy and no Mom. So he forgets,and I get to snuggle on the pajamas. )

It's nice for Dad to come home early. We like seeing so much of him. Although, he tries to work from home. Zamboni and I leave him alone so he can work. Unless Campie bugs me and I growl at him. Or we need to go outside. Or Campeche gets bored and wants to play. Or we want a snack. Or a walk. Or tummy rubs.

Then Dad has to give us Dinner, and take us for our long evening walk.And play frisbee with Campie to make sure that he doesn't have extra puppy energy. And then give Zamboni and me our medicine. And soak Zamboni's foot (she has an infection in it right now). And make sure we all get equal amounts of love and attention.

I think Dad may feel a little Abandoned too.

Grovie's New Wheels

At last! Zamboni and I don't have to share a seat with Campeche anymore!

Mom and Dad's car was really crunched in the accident. The insurance people said it was too damaged to fix. So Mom and Dad had to go buy a new car. They've been looking at cars (and leaving us at home, when usually we get to go with them everywhere), looking at booklets, and spending a lot of time on the computer. They have hardly talked to us because all they've been talking about is cars. And how much money cars cost.

Cars, I guess, cost a lot of money. More money than even really expensive dog treats (like dried liver) or our swim lessons.

So, last night, Mom and Dad came home with a car. We didn't really see it because it was dark. So this morning, Mom showed Zamboni and me the car. It's a we-have-to-be-lifted-into-the-seats car. It's black, so it matches Zamboni and me, perfectly. (Boni asked Mom if we can call it the BeagleMobile. She said she'd talk to Dad about that.)

But the best part? It has an extra seat. So Campie now can sit on his own seat.

We've been really cramped, all of us on the back seat. It wasn't bad when Campeche was little. But he's getting big, and he hogs most of the seat. Then Zamboni, who sits in the middle, leans on me, and I get totally squashed, over in my little tiny corner. I'm alpha dog, and I'm the one getting squashed.

That's just not right.

Mom tries to help out by getting Zamboni to lean on Campie, but Zamboni likes me better, so she'd rather lean on me.

But now....

It's like the old days. Old Boni and me, all alone on our own seat. Our paws overlapping just a little, so we can talk quietly among ourselves. But otherwise, we have plenty of room.

And Campeche will have a whole seat to himself, to stretch out, drool, barf (sometimes he barfs when Mom whips into the driveway too fast. I've told Mom to stop doing that. ), whatever he wants to do.

Mom did say that we won't get expensive dog cookies for a while because of the new car.

That's ok. My own seat for liver treats? That's a good trade off!

The car's in the driveway, parked. I think I'm just going to go sit in my seat and enjoy it for the next few hours.

Exonerated!

Well, the training consultation didn’t go as bad as I thought it would. The Trainer told Mom that they had to “honor” me (and Zamboni) because we’ve been around so long and because we’ve been such good girls all this time. She told Mom to make a special place for me where Campeche can’t bother me, and if he tries to, then Mom and Dad need to make him stop until he understands that that is MY special place where no one is allowed to bother me (except, I guess, Mom and Dad because it’s their house, although Zamboni, the princess, doesn’t quite understand this).

So Mom took one of the comforters off their bed (Mom has about 6-7 comforters on her side of the bed. Not Dad’s side though. Mom and Boni are always freezing. Dad, Campie and I are usually hot). She folded it really nice and perfect, just big enough for me to stretch out a little bit, and fluffed it up.

Mom and Dad discussed placement of my special bed very seriously. They decided to put it in my favorite place in the dining room where I can see what’s going on in almost all of the house. It’s near the heating vent which works well on cold days too. She had to move a chair to put it in that spot, so it’s kind of tucked a little out of the way. It’s perfect.

Last night, she fed me dinner and I can eat right there in my new bed. The best thing is that she put the bottle of bitter apple next to the bed. When Campeche is really really bad (like super bad), he gets a shot of bitter apple in his mouth. He knows what the bottle looks like. Sometimes, Mom will just show him the bottle and he’ll shape up. So Mom put the bottle next to my bed, and so far, it’s worked: he’s left me alone there.

So, the Consultation worked out pretty well for me. The Trainer did tell Mom that if I get too nasty toward Campie or Zamboni, then Mom should send me to my bed. So I’ll have to start being a little bit nicer, I guess. I like my new bed but I don’t want to get SENT there, like a bad puppy.

The worst part about the Consultation is that the Trainer said that Campie’s actually a good puppy and that Mom and Dad are doing a good job training him. She had some suggestions for Mom. But she said that Campeche’s main problem is that he’s entering what she called his Teenage Years and he’s going to be like this for ANOTHER YEAR!

God help us all.

Training Day?

Apparently, after 11 perfectly happy years, I need training.

Mom is dragging Zamboni and me on a Consultation. Dad explained what a Consultation is. That's where we have to meet with a trainer. A TRAINER! I am the best behaved dog in the world! I sit, lie down, wait, come, shake, boogie, get on and off the bed only when I'm supposed to. I don't jump up on people. I don't bark except when I'm supposed to. And when Mom or Dad say "Enough," I stop. I'm nice to other dogs in the park. I walk really well off leash and don't cross the street until Mom or Dad say "ok." I don't roll in dead stuff like Zamboni, and I eat all my vegetables, even raw broccoli, celery, carrots and lettuce.

And now, I need a Trainer.

It's all because of that Puppy. He drives me crazy. Really.

He licks my face. Over and over. I growl slightly at him. He doesn't stop. So I growl more, then I snap at him. Then Mom yells at us. And for that, I need a Trainer? How insulting!

Ok, so sometimes when he's not doing anything, I go over and growl at him for no reason. And I won't let him in the front door even if it's raining really hard or Mom tells me to. And I don't like to let him pass me in the hallway. Or the bedroom. Or the dining room. So I growl at him...kind of a lot.

Ok, and now that Zamboni mentions it, sometimes I attack her when she plays with that Puppy.

But I don't LIKE that Puppy. He bugs me! HE needs the Trainer. NOT ME. I've been a good girl my whole life. I've never needed training. I've always done what I was told.

It's that Puppy's fault.
Not mine.

But we're all going to see the Trainer.

(Even Zamboni. Who gets along with everyone.)

She thinks it will be good because she's tired of me attacking her. We're lifelong pals. I don't do it very often. And it's that Puppy's fault I do it.

It doesn't matter though. Mom says we all go. And when Mom makes up her mind, that's it. And Dad backs her up on this. Even if is really expensive. If it is super expensive, then I won't be able to go swimming every week. That's how serious they are.

This is bad. I love swimming.

Maybe I should be nicer to that Puppy? I mean, to Campeche?