HoneyBee - In Memoriam

HoneyBee, the truth is - I was against you coming to live with us. We already had two dogs, and didn't need a third. Huxley and Mr. Jynx are males. Would they fight over you (even though all of you are fixed); or would they turn on you, an interloper? You were older than them, and you were damaged goods. . You had lived a rough life. You had at least four other owners, one of which, early on, abused you to where you were now scared of all humans. More recently, you had lost a fight to see who was the alpha-female, and it had cost you an eye. Now, you were confined to a small cage 23 hours each day, for your own protection. . I hemmed and hawed and gave my very logical arguments to Liz as to why we shouldn't take you in. She listened and smiled, and nodded her head, then did what she had done with each of our other four dogs - just went out and got them. And one afternoon, I came home, opened the door, and there in the hall you were. . You came as advertised. You fled from us humans. At night you hid somewhere, while Huxley and Jynx slept with us on the bed. But that only lasted about a week. You warmed your way onto the bed, under the covers, and into our hearts. . Huxley and Mr, Jynx accepted you as one of the group. You quickly learned how to use the doggy door and readily went on our twice-a-day walks, even though your short, Pekinese legs meant you had to jog to keep pace. And before I knew it, you had become Daddy's Little Princess. .

And a princess you truly were. Our other dogs would jump down off the bed, but not you. If we weren't in the bedroom, you woofed for us to come get you down. If you had to get down in the middle of the night to go potty, you'd stomp on my feet until I woke up and put you down. If you thought Momma was a bit tardy in getting you your supper, you'd woof at her. And if your food was too hot or too cold, you wouldn't eat it until she made it "just right".

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You and I had our (weekday) morning ritual. While Huxley and Jynx always got up with Liz, you stayed under the covers. I woke you up with a 5-minute scalp and tummy massage as you did your morning stretching. Then after I got up to take a shower, you stayed under the covers until Liz came in and got you up for the morning constitutional.

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Did you know you saved a life, HoneyBee? Our friends, Daniel and Lupe, were amazed how well you handled your one-eye handicap. One day, they saw a poor, sad, one-eyed cockapoo puppy at the pound. For a handicapped dog, a stay there is a 72-hour death watch. Nobody adopts "damaged goods".

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But because of you, Daniel and Lupe took her home and named her Sofie. I just saw her again yesterday. Sofie's a bundle of energy, loves her owners and new life, and just like you, is spoiled rotten.

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Gradually your abused past faded from your memory and you overcame your phobia when people came to our house. Eventually, you even let them pet you. Which is good, because both adults and kids found you irresistably adorable.

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Time flew by - we had you 5 years I think. And the day came when the two-a-day walks/jogs became too much for you. So when the leashes came out, you'd retire to the bedroom or backyard. That was to let us know you'd be skipping the constitutional. But always when we got back, you were there to greet us at the door and to remind Liz by wagging your tail that it was "treat time".

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Now you're gone. And writing this eulogy today opens wounds I thought had healed. I hope we made the latter half of your life a warm and wonderful time. You enriched our lives more than you could ever know. I will never forget you, HoneyBee.

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But you still have one more miracle to work - one more life to save. Liz has been hinting we should add another female to the brood - go rescue one from a shelter or pound. I've told her that we don't need a third dog, and that I'm not emotionally ready yet, and that it certainly can't be done until I write my farewells to you.

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And Liz nods her head, and smiles, and listens to my logical arguments. And one of these afternoons, I'll come home, open the door, and there in the hall will be...