Mickey

On October 3, 1997 when i was 11 or 12 and my brother was 8 or 9, we somehow convinced my parents that it would be a good idea to get a dog. We had done the cat thing, done the bunny thing, done the lizzard thing, even did the bird thing - twice. I had gone through two hamsters and made it out on the other end. But a dog? A dog requires walking. Picking up poop. Playing. Water. and lots and lots of attention. And as a 7th grader, I was determined to do them all.

We went to the pound and looked at all the dogs. Eventually we found the puppies, and there wasn't a huge selection. They had just picked up a litter that had been running around some field in Colfax, but they were cute and my brother and I were enthralled with them. We went outside into a play area and just kind of watched them all. My brother liked a black one, but the orange one stuck to my side and looked so happy. After pleading and begging my mom, she finally gave in and we went through the paperwork and checked out. By this point, we had already adopted a few animals from the pound, so the excitement over the paperwork wasn't so exciting. We were just ready to have our dog.

We put him in the backseat of my mom's Nissan Maxima and I sat on one side and my brother sat on the other. I specifically remember saying, "hi doggy! you're going to be our new pet and you're going to live with us forever. I promise you, i PROMISE you that we will never take you back to that place again."

I remember saying it loudly and clearly so my mom could hear it in the front seat. My brother and I were rescuers and we had just rescued this dog. We were old enough to know what happens to the ones who don't get homes.

We took him to our family vet. The same vet that had taken care of all of our animals and even put some of them to sleep. He suggested quietly to my mom that we not keep the dog because he was partially ChowChow. As a 12 year old, I didn't know what that meant and I could really care less. I put up a fight. There was NO WAY we were taking back this sweet dog to that terrible place. I didn't hear it then, but my mom made an agreement with the vet that we'd take him home for a few days and see how it worked out.

I'm not entirely positive who came up with the name, "mickey" but I think it was me. I had only had three pets before him, Memi the cat, Blackie the cat, and a hamster named Little Bit, so my track record wasn't all that great.

But you know what turned out to be great? Mickey. He was the best (and only) dog I had ever owned. My brother and I had really wanted another younger brother or sister and that wasn't in the plans for our family, so a dog was a good replacement. My brother often referred to Mickey as his younger brother.

He was our first family dog. He went everywhere with us and was the sweetest, kindest, most sensitive dog I had ever come across. I'm not really a dog person - I like them okay but they make me nervous. Ironically, two days after we got him I broke my leg at a church thing and had to spend a week or so on the couch. Mickey was my source of comfort.

My favorite memories of him are:
a. he didn't know how to pee for the longest time. He was a boy dog, and boy dogs do their thing and lift up their leg. Mickey squatted. It took him FORever to figure out that's not what he's supposed to do. But it was amusing to watch.

b. when he got really excited he peed until i kid you not, he was like 8. (I'm sensing a theme here).

c. he NEVER barked. I think in the 14 years he was with our family, I heard him bark maybe 5 times. I think that's why my brother's dog drives me crazy, she barks constantly.

d. he was sensitive. When people were arguing or he could tell someone was upset, he would get this worried look on his face and put his nose in your lap and stare up at you. He was kind of the peace-keeper, because when two people started losing it, Mickey would get upset and nobody wanted to upset him, so we learned to fight peacefully. For a long time we thought about training him as a therapy dog, but for reason b (he peed when he got excited... and he got excited when he met new people).

e. I got teased a lot growing up, and middle school sucked. It was my job to let him out of his fenced in area after school when I got home because I was the first one home. One day I had just had it with the bullies at my school and I was done. It was probably the lowest point of my childhood to that point. I sat out in the garden with him and sobbed my heart out and just wished I was dead because I was so miserable. I know it sounds crazy, but Mickey knew. And he curled up with me and put his head in my lap and let me cry. When I was done, he licked my face and stuck by me the rest of the day.

f. He knew he wasn't supposed to sleep on the couches or furniture. He had a terrible poker face. You knew when he was guilty. I thought it was sweet that he knew he wasn't supposed to be up on the couch, and at night (i was a night owl) he would sneak up on there and sleep, and then as soon as he heard someone wake up he relocated to the floor. When we got Karma, my brother's dog, she took over every piece of furniture in the house but he still knew that he wasn't supposed to get up there.

g. of all the toys that we got him, the only one that he really cared about was this squeaky toy hamburger. Instead of saying, "go get your ball" like you would say to a normal dog, we had to say, "where's your burger?" and he would get really excited.

h. he was so gentle. Most dogs, including my brother's dog, slobber all over you and accidentally bite when you give them a treat. Not mickey. It's hard to explain, but he just gently took whatever you were giving to him with his teeth and didn't slobber and didn't bite.

About 2 years ago, he started acting weird and we knew something was up. But then we got Karma and it seemed to perk him up and he was good for a long time. in October 2010, he started acting sick and my parents took him to the vet. They said he had 4-5 days to live. He died yesterday morning, at my parents house in the spot that he usually sleeps in. I'm guessing he just fell asleep and never woke up.

I could go on and on, but it's been a hard weekend and it's hard to talk about. I know there are a lot of people out there who don't understand pets, and the value of them, but he was a central part of our lives for 14 years. I miss him so much, and I'm so glad he stuck it out through Christmas. James and I gave him a nice long brush after taking him for a long walk and I kissed him on the nose and gave him a lot of treats.

Of all the photos that I have of him, there's really only one that captures him. I took it two years ago (July 2008) when I took him to the overlook in Auburn.



I'm glad he's not sick and hurting anymore. But my heart has a huge hole in it.

Thanks, Mickey. You were the best dog a girl could ask for.