My 16 year old Pekingese was put to sleep. This is her story.


The Sasha Rules Part One


I am sad to lose the little red haired bundle of flat out crazy Pekingese, Sasha. The last couple of years she was more docile than crazy. She has even been called a cat that barks, which might be appropriate based on her ability to survive impossible circumstances. While Cats may have nine lives, it seemed like Sasha had 30. From the beginning Sasha had her own set of rules that everyone abided by.

She was brought to our home in the fall of 2000 by my wife Carol and daughter Jamie just before my daughter's senior year in high school. Raised in a back yard igloo, the caretaker pair had to save this little urchin. It did not take long for that dynamic personality to show itself. She harassed the elder states woman Bear, our Lhasa, who responded by wearily putting a paw on the little red fur ball pinning her to the floor. She played soccer with my daughter and would chase a soccer ball and butt it with her head. She chased sponge water balls and literally could catch them on the first hop and trot back happily for more, for as long as we were willing to throw it. Playing cards with Jamie was an adventure that first year, as Sasha interrupted the play by placing her paws on the cards. Her first bout with serious health issues came from her gnawing the edge off of an end table, while she was teething. It lead to a full on bout of pancreatitis. We almost lost her right there. There were three more serious attacks of pancreatitis like this one. Somehow she survived them all.

Then there was the obedience training at pet smart where Sasha trained me in the language of the Sasha Rules or how life with her was going to be. From that training, they instructed us to use treats to get Sasha to do what we wanted. That worked for all of about five minutes. She was impossible to walk on a leash until, like any incorrigible child I used what she loved the most, those sponge water balls. To get her used to the leash, I found that if I carried the ball and threw it in front of her she would go get the ball and continue to walk. On The sidewalk around our home to walk her became a ritual of me carrying the ball and pitching it in front of her when she locked her legs and refused to move. She was happy to do that as long as it suited her, and loved to meet all the children in the neighborhood.

Eating was even a bigger challenge. She could care less about food. She was too busy thinking about what she was going to do next. To get her to eat more times than I care to admit, I took her to the bathroom closed the door and hand feed her royal majesty either by placing food on the floor in front of her or putting it into her mouth, where she would either spit it out or with a condescending glare eat it.
She was an escape artist as well. If the door opened she was out of it before we could turn our head. Once out she dared safety by heading for the road, or under a building or under a deck exactly where we could not easily get her. You could always tell when she was going to do something impulsive, those big brown expressive eyes would get even wider, what I used to call the Sasha "Crazy Eye", and off she went. We tried to protect her by using chicken wire around a fence and lattice work around the deck, but she was creative. One day she pranced across a thin row of concrete blocks 10 feet off the ground that was where the fence could not be and found her way to the sidewalk in front of our house. Fortunately she was well known and was returned home. Another time she got spiteful and went under a building at our current home on the Yadkin River and stayed there. The only way she agreed to come out, was with my wife calling me and placing the phone so Sasha could hear me to call her out.

The most almost miraculous moment of her life came when we were supposed to go on vacation to Fairfield in New Bern. Jamie was coming home from school, Carol had gone to Fairfield with our godchild, and I headed to work, Sasha was listless so I asked Jamie to check on her. When Jamie got there Sasha was on her side, burning up with fever. She took her to the vet and after the vet's research, intravenous fluids antibiotics blood tests and visits to the emergency vet nightly for three nights, she began to recover. I can remember how scared I was about taking her from her regular vet to the Emergency Vet those nights after they closed. It was thought she had lepto spirosis. The final diagnosis was she was bitten by a deer tick. She bounced back and survived again.




Short story by Kee Zealy The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 838 times
Written on 2016-04-14 at 05:23

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