Over the course of our lovely vacation in Mexico, I took the time to relax and read a book. Marley & Me. Mike gave it to me for Christmas last year and I decided that before I see the movie, I needed to read the book. (Not like Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, which I never made it through before the movie).
I absolutely loved the book. It's been such a long time since I have read a book which made me laugh out loud consistently. Perhaps, as a dog mommy, I could relate to the silly, goofy things that dogs do. Mike kept asking me "what did the dog do now?" And in the end, without giving any spoilers, I was completely sobbing, with tears running down my face and trying to explain everything to Mike.
I vowed that I wouldn't go see the movie, because how could Jennifer Anniston and Owen Wilson do any justice to the book, but I decided that this was the perfect movie to see with my dad. My dad was a reporter; John Grogan was a reporter. Thankfully, he loved it. The two of us were crying, but it turned into a very nice day of bonding (without any fighting, which these days I consider a blessing).
Since I read the book, I've done a lot of thinking about my Fifi dog. She is the first dog that I have raised from a little pea-sized puppy, her aging process is more obvious to me that it was with our dog Blauser, whose passing in 2003 was the inspiration for me starting this blog (or at least the initial Blogger incarnation of it).
Fifi is almost 12 years old now. When Mike and I picked her out from the pound, I knew that we were in it for the long haul. We had been together for 2 years, and living together for 1, but now we had a dog together. That meant it was the real deal. Fifi was awesome from the very beginning: she was smart, she was cute, she was in charge. She immediately asserted herself as being in charge of Blauser, but not us. She really only had a few incidents of puppy destruction, but she immediately started retrieving stuff (not bad for a pitbull mix). At first, it was the paper. She would run out every day and we'd say "get the paper" and in she would come. Then we realized, if we said "get the paper" she would bring us the remote, socks, slippers -- pretty much anything she could get in her mouth and we could point at.
Over the past few years, she's really aged. On cold mornings, you can see the stiffness in all her joints...she walks like Frankenstein. She's constantly groaning, snorting, squeaking, and making other indescribable noises. She's super picky about eating -- we are constantly working to find the right balance of people food and dog food that she'll eat so we can keep her bones covered with some meat. But it's all worth it. She is the smartest, most loyal, most cuddly dog ever.
Since reading Marley & Me, I've been thinking about her lifespan a lot. Summoning my favorite line from Team America, I say to her, "Promise me you will never die." Yeah, I know she can't do that, but I've been thinking about it a lot. I even had a sleepless night worrying about her. To quote one of my favorite twitterpeeps @trickster_brat, Fifi is a cuddleslut. She needs lots of loving. She needs to be able to see us all the time. She needs to sleep under the covers between me and Mike.
We need to enjoy the Fifidog. And spend lots of time with her. And watch The Dog Whisperer. She's the world's best dog. (Sorry Zero, you know what you've done to disqualify yourself from the running).
It's Springtime for the Happy Pitbulls, but it's not quite business as usual for the Fifi dog. Fifi is 12-ish and has been slowing down Her little snout is turning white, and she can't really hear much of anything unless you yell at her. Then she's got those cloudy old dog eyes.
