List price is $9.99 for the Kindle version and $15.99 for the paperback.
I hope some of you will review the book on Amazon, especially if you like it! (Hey, I’m human.) But as with my blog posts, I’ll respond to suggestions and constructive criticism. One great thing about an ebook is that you can update it. I’m already planning the next release!
And yes, it will be available later in other formats. I’m taking it step by step.
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Thank you so much to all the people who have helped and encouraged me with this project, and all my blog readers. You helped me believe I could actually do this.
On December 29, 2002, 10 years ago today, I drove 100 miles east to meet Cricket’s foster family from RatBone Rescues at a McDonald’s parking lot. She was the most beautiful little rat terrier I had ever seen. They had already gotten very attached to her and there were tears from them and whimpering from her when they passed her over to me. I had a crate in the car but left her loose in the front seat with me (this was 10 years ago). After about 10 minutes of crying and restless behavior from her, she came over and crawled into my lap as I drove and stayed there for the duration of the drive. She had thrown in her lot with me.
When I got home I took her straight to the back yard. She went to the bathroom and it was a little messy. She crept over to me and let me wipe her butt with a kleenex. In that moment she became my dog forever more. I had thrown in my lot with her.
I had picked a middle aged dog as a potential companion for my 10 year old male rattie and because I wanted to give an older dog a chance. I had been cruising the online rescue pages. I kept going back to Cricket. She looked so demure. (What a joke!) She is the only dog I have ever “shopped” for. All my other dogs, wonderful as they all are, have ended up on my doorstep without my having much of a voice in it. I thought I was picking her for Gabriel. Turns out she disliked him, as she always disliked any competitor for my attention. So Gabriel, bless his heart, didn’t really get a friend. But I did.
The vet said she was in solid middle age, about 6 or 7 years old. Although rat terriers are known to be long lived, I never imagined we could be together for 10 years! But we have.
Here is the story of our years together in pictures. If you click on one, you can click through them all in a slide show.
Photo from RatBone Rescues, 2002
The day I brought her home, 2002
Treeing a squirrel on her first day home, 2002
January 2003 in a snow storm
Bringing me a Santa toy, 2003
I think I just said the word, “Supper.” 2005
Yawning, 2005.
Cricket looking beautiful, 2006
On the table, watching the snow, 2007
For her AKC ILP, 2008
Beautiful tucked sit at the dog club, 2008
Cricket at my office inviting me to play with her monkey
Office dog, 2009
Office dog, 2009
Training, 2009
August 2009
My mom and Cricket, August 2009
Tired after Rally practice, 2009
Digging, probably after a cicada, 2010
Happy in her cone, 2010
Covers fresh out of the dryer, 2010
Clearly on the wrong side of the door, 2010
Stalwart in the snow, 2011
Catching some rays, 2011
July 2011
On the new blanket, 2011
On a mat in the front yard, 2011
Sacked out on the pink blanket, 2011
Unscheduled visit to the car dealership, 2011
Snuggled up in my arm, 2012
Snoozing, 2012
On her warmed pillow from Auntie Marge, 2012
Looking out the front door, 2012
Rolling in the grass, 2012
Mooching in the kitchen, 2012
Cricket’s paw, 2012
Under the covers, 2012
After looking at these together, it seems to me that it might paint a picture of a quiet, sedentary dog. That was surely not the case. I just tended to take a lot pictures when she was in bed or at least sitting still. Here is a short training video that shows neither me nor my filming skills (slightly improved since then) in a good light, but you can get an idea of her high energy.
In all the training videos I took of Summer for many years, you can hear Cricket demand barking in the background. “My turn, my turn!”
The very first thing I do every morning when I wake up is turn over and take a careful look at my very old dog Cricket. She has a special place on the bed surrounded by pillows on three sides and me on the fourth. Here is what I often see.
Cricket sacked out in her fortress on the bed
First, frankly, is she breathing? Then, what is her alertness level? Is she still sacked out or is she looking at me? Big “oh-oh” if she is sitting up or trying to get off the bed. I have to make an important decision right away. Who gets to go to the bathroom first? Me, Cricket, or Clara the puppy?
Cricket needs to go
These days it’s usually Cricket, although once in a while she sleeps in enough that I can get a head start. The other dogs virtually always have to wait since it is not safe for me to leave her out of my sight on the bed.
Cricket has neurological weakness in her back legs and a bit of arthritis. She needs some help in the morning. And as soon as she stirs, I don’t have very long to get her outside. She is 16 years old, and when she needs to go, it’s right now. In that case I put on my glasses, throw on a robe, step into some shoes, and grab my phone. I lift her up a little and stand her on her four feet on the bed so she can get her bearings and practice standing. Then I pick her all the way up. I usually have a treat in my pocket and I offer it to her (I have taught her to associate being picked up with good things). Amazingly, even bleary-eyed and dry-mouthed, she usually wants the treat. Her teeth are in good shape.
I tuck her under my arm and she chews on the treat as I carry her down the hall. I unlock the door, go down the steps and take her into the front yard. Without fail, as soon as I step out the door she takes a deep sniff, then snorts a little. Then I make the daily search for a moderately level place on which to set her. Every degree of slope counts against us in the morning.
After I choose the place, I put her down very gently but don’t let go. I keep my hands under her abdomen and help her stand up. I try to get her pointing downhill (there is nowhere completely flat). If she needs to pee first, I let her go and she manages. If she needs to poop, she often needs a little more help. I keep ahold of her, switching my grip to keep her from falling over backwards.
Cricket waiting to go to work with me
Things improve after that first trip outside. Like a lot of human people, Cricket is stiff in the morning and a little slow to get going mentally. But even though she has dementia, she definitely perks up as the day progresses.
By the time I leave for work, she is generally crowding me at the door to make sure that I don’t forget to take her along.
And later in the day, she is downright frisky.
Here she is getting her supper:
But back to the title of the post. The other day I went through our morning routine. I took a look at her and the answer to the daily question was clearly: Cricket needs to go. As I was carrying her down the hall, I offered her a treat but she seemed distracted. This happens sometimes. I took her outside and she peed, but that was all. Now that is very unusual. We stayed out for quite a while, but no go. I got bored and reached into my robe pocket for my phone.
Not yet.
I pulled out my iPhone.
Now.
Perched on the top edge of my phone case was a small, neat piece of brand new poop. I stared at it for quite a while in disbelief, willing it to be something else. It remained poop. I transferred the phone to my other hand and very carefully peeked into the suddenly very interesting pocket. Nothing else. I very carefully removed the phone poop with a leaf curled in my fingers and stuck it under a rock or something. I actually don’t remember that part, even though an embarrassing amount of my brain power is normally spent keeping track of the location of poop. Amazingly it had not smeared around on my phone case or in my pocket. It had just perched there politely. But even a moderate poop cleanup is not something you can do later. But neither could I run frantically into the house to clean things up because I still had a 16 year old dog toddling around in my front yard. Also, there was a very important question: where was the rest of the poop?
So holding the phone a bit outstretched (wouldn’t you?) in my left hand, I picked up Cricket with my right and tucked her above my hip in her usual place, noting the positioning of her butt and my robe pocket for future reference. Watching my step, I trekked back to the house for cleanup and a change of clothes.
Once inside, I saw the rest of the poop in the hallway where she had dropped it while I was carrying her down the hall. I have never been so glad before to see poop on the floor!
Thanks for reading!
Those of you with old doggies, do you have stories to tell?
