Julia
01-24-2003, 06:25 AM
My poor writing should not be in the Gallery, but this thread is for special pets and the humans who love them. Please post pictures, stories, poems, etc.; anything to share your pet and/or how the unconditional love of a special pet enriches a person's life.
This one is for Tama. I wrote this about 6 months ago because I knew I wouldn't be able to write it now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Time to say, “Goodbye, baby.” Thank you for being such a wonderful friend.
I love you, Tama.
http://members.cox.net/lego7/Tama_Xmas_1999.jpg
R.I.P. Tama Marie: February 1985 – January 21, 2003
TAMA MARIE
I have a friend that has been by my side for 17 1/2 years; more than half of my life. She has been right here with me through every life experience from age 17 through 34: First love, death of first love, living alone, getting married, having a child, several moves, more deaths, more births...
Many people have come and gone, but this friend is still here with me.
For a little while longer, at least…
My friend's name is Tama and she is a little, black, terrier-looking, "mixed breed" dog. Her grandmother was a brown Heinz 57 dog but Tama's mother was bigger, all black, and looked like she had (at least) a decent amount of lab in her (really, I promise). Tama was the cutest, little 4-week-old black puppy. SHE wasn't even weaned yet, but WE were sure she would grow up to be our big, black lab.
WE were two slightly rebellious, dangerously naive, lovestruck teenagers exploring the country in a blue, Chevy van. Somewhere near Dallas, he surprised me with the gift of a puppy to share in our adventures. We named her after TAMA drums because he was a drummer.
What stupid kids. Stupid but completely HAPPY and FREE, and blissfully IGNORANT of the TOUGH lessons ahead.
Tama quickly learned to eat fast food hamburgers. She was van-trained before she was house-trained. ("Me and you and a dog named Tama. Travelin' and livin' in van.")
After the Van Adventures, Tama would ride with us on the motorcycle, all zipped up in my black leather jacket, just her little black nose poking out to greedily inhale all the city smells flying by. Our Moto-Mutt.
She was such a cool puppy. She was so cute and so smart and had such a great personality that everybody fell in love with her. Some lowlife acquaintances actually ABDUCTED her and changed her name to Mindy. After a successful rescue operation from the evil dognappers, our Tamadog was safely back in her happy home. ("Our house, is a very, very, very fine house. With Tama in the yard. Life used to be so hard. Now everything is easy 'cause of you.")
When we moved from sub-tropical Houston to the Sonoran desert of Arizona, Tama had to adjust to desert-living. It was days before she gave up hoping to find just a single blade of soft grass that she could pee on. We thought she might explode before she resorted to peeing on that dirty, desert dirt. Now she is a well-seasoned desert dog and any patch of sandy, rocky, crunchy-weed-like stuff will do. And it only took one afternoon spent pulling cactus needles out of her feet, legs, and mouth, for her to learn to stay way away from those things. She is a very smart dog.
The desert had lots of new creatures for Tama to play with: rabbits, ground squirrels, coyotes, rattlesnakes, tarantulas, some kind of horned toad, javalinas, mountain goats, cows, skunks. She met each of them at one time or another. Ever been camping in a tent with a dog who decided to try to make friends with a skunk? It's lovely... Sometimes Tama is a little too friendly.
If we came across cows in the road, little Tama would try to herd them. When she chased rabbits through the desert, she would bounce over the cacti just like the rabbits. She would chase the ground squirrels into their holes and furiously dig and dig until her head and shoulders were completely in the hole. She actually caught one once, then didn't know what the heck to do with it. Silly dog.
If Tama could still hear, there is one word that would be a cruel tease and would snap her to attention. "Beer." Tama LOVED beer. Especially Budweiser. She used to TELL people, with her eyes, that she wanted their beer. She would sit in front of them and intently glare at their eyes, their beer, their eyes, their beer, their eyes, their beer, etc., until they gave her a drink. It was so obvious what she wanted. (Beers left on the floor were fair game.) I quit letting people give her beer many years ago, though. I have learned so much since then.
When I found out that my love had secretly become addicted to a deadly drug, Tama was the only friend I could talk to. When we argued, she would bark until we stopped. She was always on my lap when I cried. When I was left alone, worrying about him and afraid of being alone at night for the first time in my life, Tama was there to protect and guard me.
The phone call telling me my love was in the hospital: Tama was there. When I came home from the hospital, after holding his hand while his heart stopped: Tama was there. I KNEW she knew. She must have smelled it. She WAS his dog, too; she was ours. Driving all over the country (by myself, this time) searching for someone I knew I would not find: Tama was with me every mile.
THAT was over 14 years ago. If I didn't have the responsibility to take care of her then, I don't think I would be here to tell the rest of the story. We needed each other.
Since then, life kept going and my best friend has been with me through everything. She was there when I met my (then) future husband and she has been here for 11 happy anniversaries. While I was pregnant, she would lie on my ever-expanding belly until the baby started kicking her off. When I came home from the hospital, this time with a new baby, she would lie near his crib. She was the only one with me when I called 911 because the baby stopped breathing one night at 6 weeks old. She has been here for all 10 (now 11) of his birthdays. They love her as much as I do; she is our dog.
Now she is old, but you couldn't tell by looking at her. The only thing she can hear is when I loudly clap my hands together. She can still see a little, but she is very far-sighted. She can't see anything right in front of her face, but she can see me across the room. Her hips give out on her so she has a hard time getting up.
But today she still seems happy. She still likes to play a little, her eyes still light up and she still wags her tail a lot, and she loves to eat. She is the energizer dog. She just keeps going and going.
I know I will have to say goodbye to my friend very soon. I just hope I gave her the very best life she could possibly have. I would not have made it through this half of my life without her; I'm not certain how I will continue when she is gone. I know I will not let her suffer, but I hope I have the strength to know when to let her go. She deserves the best.
She is the best.
7/30/2002
This one is for Tama. I wrote this about 6 months ago because I knew I wouldn't be able to write it now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Time to say, “Goodbye, baby.” Thank you for being such a wonderful friend.
I love you, Tama.
http://members.cox.net/lego7/Tama_Xmas_1999.jpg
R.I.P. Tama Marie: February 1985 – January 21, 2003
TAMA MARIE
I have a friend that has been by my side for 17 1/2 years; more than half of my life. She has been right here with me through every life experience from age 17 through 34: First love, death of first love, living alone, getting married, having a child, several moves, more deaths, more births...
Many people have come and gone, but this friend is still here with me.
For a little while longer, at least…
My friend's name is Tama and she is a little, black, terrier-looking, "mixed breed" dog. Her grandmother was a brown Heinz 57 dog but Tama's mother was bigger, all black, and looked like she had (at least) a decent amount of lab in her (really, I promise). Tama was the cutest, little 4-week-old black puppy. SHE wasn't even weaned yet, but WE were sure she would grow up to be our big, black lab.
WE were two slightly rebellious, dangerously naive, lovestruck teenagers exploring the country in a blue, Chevy van. Somewhere near Dallas, he surprised me with the gift of a puppy to share in our adventures. We named her after TAMA drums because he was a drummer.
What stupid kids. Stupid but completely HAPPY and FREE, and blissfully IGNORANT of the TOUGH lessons ahead.
Tama quickly learned to eat fast food hamburgers. She was van-trained before she was house-trained. ("Me and you and a dog named Tama. Travelin' and livin' in van.")
After the Van Adventures, Tama would ride with us on the motorcycle, all zipped up in my black leather jacket, just her little black nose poking out to greedily inhale all the city smells flying by. Our Moto-Mutt.
She was such a cool puppy. She was so cute and so smart and had such a great personality that everybody fell in love with her. Some lowlife acquaintances actually ABDUCTED her and changed her name to Mindy. After a successful rescue operation from the evil dognappers, our Tamadog was safely back in her happy home. ("Our house, is a very, very, very fine house. With Tama in the yard. Life used to be so hard. Now everything is easy 'cause of you.")
When we moved from sub-tropical Houston to the Sonoran desert of Arizona, Tama had to adjust to desert-living. It was days before she gave up hoping to find just a single blade of soft grass that she could pee on. We thought she might explode before she resorted to peeing on that dirty, desert dirt. Now she is a well-seasoned desert dog and any patch of sandy, rocky, crunchy-weed-like stuff will do. And it only took one afternoon spent pulling cactus needles out of her feet, legs, and mouth, for her to learn to stay way away from those things. She is a very smart dog.
The desert had lots of new creatures for Tama to play with: rabbits, ground squirrels, coyotes, rattlesnakes, tarantulas, some kind of horned toad, javalinas, mountain goats, cows, skunks. She met each of them at one time or another. Ever been camping in a tent with a dog who decided to try to make friends with a skunk? It's lovely... Sometimes Tama is a little too friendly.
If we came across cows in the road, little Tama would try to herd them. When she chased rabbits through the desert, she would bounce over the cacti just like the rabbits. She would chase the ground squirrels into their holes and furiously dig and dig until her head and shoulders were completely in the hole. She actually caught one once, then didn't know what the heck to do with it. Silly dog.
If Tama could still hear, there is one word that would be a cruel tease and would snap her to attention. "Beer." Tama LOVED beer. Especially Budweiser. She used to TELL people, with her eyes, that she wanted their beer. She would sit in front of them and intently glare at their eyes, their beer, their eyes, their beer, their eyes, their beer, etc., until they gave her a drink. It was so obvious what she wanted. (Beers left on the floor were fair game.) I quit letting people give her beer many years ago, though. I have learned so much since then.
When I found out that my love had secretly become addicted to a deadly drug, Tama was the only friend I could talk to. When we argued, she would bark until we stopped. She was always on my lap when I cried. When I was left alone, worrying about him and afraid of being alone at night for the first time in my life, Tama was there to protect and guard me.
The phone call telling me my love was in the hospital: Tama was there. When I came home from the hospital, after holding his hand while his heart stopped: Tama was there. I KNEW she knew. She must have smelled it. She WAS his dog, too; she was ours. Driving all over the country (by myself, this time) searching for someone I knew I would not find: Tama was with me every mile.
THAT was over 14 years ago. If I didn't have the responsibility to take care of her then, I don't think I would be here to tell the rest of the story. We needed each other.
Since then, life kept going and my best friend has been with me through everything. She was there when I met my (then) future husband and she has been here for 11 happy anniversaries. While I was pregnant, she would lie on my ever-expanding belly until the baby started kicking her off. When I came home from the hospital, this time with a new baby, she would lie near his crib. She was the only one with me when I called 911 because the baby stopped breathing one night at 6 weeks old. She has been here for all 10 (now 11) of his birthdays. They love her as much as I do; she is our dog.
Now she is old, but you couldn't tell by looking at her. The only thing she can hear is when I loudly clap my hands together. She can still see a little, but she is very far-sighted. She can't see anything right in front of her face, but she can see me across the room. Her hips give out on her so she has a hard time getting up.
But today she still seems happy. She still likes to play a little, her eyes still light up and she still wags her tail a lot, and she loves to eat. She is the energizer dog. She just keeps going and going.
I know I will have to say goodbye to my friend very soon. I just hope I gave her the very best life she could possibly have. I would not have made it through this half of my life without her; I'm not certain how I will continue when she is gone. I know I will not let her suffer, but I hope I have the strength to know when to let her go. She deserves the best.
She is the best.
7/30/2002