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Stone

Stone came to us in July of 2000.  One month after we adopted our first Dane, Angel.  He was the big guy that turned my husband and myself into “foster failures”.  When my husband first saw him he said “No way!  A dog that size is not coming into our home with our kids”. 

However, within 24 hours of fostering him, and almost as many hours picking ticks off of him, my husband had fallen in love.  Stone was “his” dog.  He took immediately to my Angel girl and they were attached at the hip from day one.  They made a beautiful (but thankfully sterile) couple.  He took care of her and cleaned her ears and snuggled with her on the couch.  He was everything a “husband” should have been.  Stone did this funny little grumble talk that closely resembled a growl and he intimidated everyone that did not know him. 

Of course, those of us that did know him knew that he was just a big goofy pussycat.  He had the cutest little (well, big, because nothing about him was little) off-in-space expression.  So, we dubbed him “Dopus” for his nickname.  This big man put many a Christmas ornament out of commission with his tail.  My favorite memory was when he “tattled” on Angel for sleeping in his spot on the couch.  For some reason he would not sleep on the overstuffed chair.  He HAD to have the couch!  He came in our bedroom at about 3:00 a.m. and grumbled at my husband until he got up. 

My hubby assumed that Stone needed to potty so he went to the backdoor and opened it in anticipation of  “his” dog swiftly taking care of his business.  Stone didn’t come.  Terry turned around and saw Stone standing next to the couch and alternated looking from Angel to Terry and “talking” to Terry.  My husband thought “Oh, No Way!”.  He told Angel to get down and get on “her” chair.  She followed his command and Stone contentedly got up on the couch and went to sleep.  My husband fell back to sleep laughing at what had just occurred. 

Our big guy had a torn Cruciate Ligament when he came to us and we had surgery done to repair it.  We never knew how long he had lived with the injury before he came to us.  Apparently it was long enough that arthritis had made it’s home in his leg.  It became increasingly worse as he got older and it became more and more difficult for him to get his body up from a laying position.  We put him on Glucosamine and eventually MSM but he continued to hurt. 

We lost his “woman”, my precious girl, in November 2003 and he quickly slipped into what I believe was a depression of sorts.  We tried to bring him around when we adopted a Rottweiler puppy but he didn’t acknowledge her much.  Every once in a while he would try to bounce around with her in the backyard but he hurt too much to keep it up. 

He began to wet himself instead of attempting to get up to go outside.  He would grunt and moan and whimper when he did make himself get up.  I believe that our beloved fur-kids tell us when it is time to let them go and his handsome but sad face said it all.  The spunk that we had loved was gone.  He eyes saw no more magic in the world.  I helped him to the Bridge in March 2004.  Just four short months after my Angel succumbed to bloat.  He was about 8 years of age.  He and Angel are together now and that is a comfort but I don’t feel that you ever stop missing them completely. 

He was such a presence in our home and our lives.  He brought so much joy and we miss him every day.  I know that when our time comes, he will be waiting with his lethally wagging tail and that silly goofy grin on his face.

We love you bunches, Old Man.  I am only sorry that it took me so long to give you the remembrance that you so richly deserve.