tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730801.post7314695428686297140..comments2023-12-31T17:47:27.217-08:00Comments on Taj MuttHall Dog Diary: Shock to the SystemElfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827436807468320435noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730801.post-75012654632917492792020-02-04T18:58:52.577-08:002020-02-04T18:58:52.577-08:00Thanks for the comments. Casey was a delightful m...Thanks for the comments. Casey was a delightful member of the household when he was here. I think that maybe someday I'd like a dog like him--smaller but not too small. And smart! <br />Yeah, I can't bear to give that little toy to anyone else. Not because its last owner was a rodent (thief!), but because of that whole story. So it isn't having a chance to be someone else's favorite. Emotions are weird.<br />Elfhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01827436807468320435noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730801.post-3286620604289354242020-02-01T02:30:03.856-08:002020-02-01T02:30:03.856-08:00Wow oh wow!
One of Casey’s toys. Funny that it was...Wow oh wow!<br />One of Casey’s toys. Funny that it was first adopted by Jake and then later by Boost. (Then later by some lucky rodent?)<br />Casey loved anything that was generally dumbbell-shaped and had a squeaker. He needed it in his mouth in order to greet me when I came home from work each day with his signature “ROOOOO ROOOOOOOO!”<br />Still cracks me up to think of it. <br />And someday I hope to meet a long-haired doxy who needs a home, because I was so in love with Jake, I’d like to find a Jake of my own some day. ❤️<br />Thanks for sharing this story. chardunkhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03293416725962295283noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730801.post-30851374634361776152016-06-25T20:38:45.646-07:002016-06-25T20:38:45.646-07:00Hand wash carefullyHand wash carefullyDawnhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00824027366993286152noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730801.post-35177461824937048672016-06-25T20:38:30.159-07:002016-06-25T20:38:30.159-07:00Hand wash carefullyHand wash carefullyDawnhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00824027366993286152noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730801.post-100724534806432222016-06-25T12:24:44.470-07:002016-06-25T12:24:44.470-07:00(I usually just delete the extra one.)(I usually just delete the extra one.)Elfhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01827436807468320435noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730801.post-76607713000740537262016-06-25T12:20:15.435-07:002016-06-25T12:20:15.435-07:00See? Here's your duplicate entry again! I won...See? Here's your duplicate entry again! I wonder what tool is causing this to happen? :-) (smile, plus add a puzzled look)Elfhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01827436807468320435noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730801.post-44343112575631052312016-06-25T12:19:32.438-07:002016-06-25T12:19:32.438-07:00Well, thank you. It was such a strange moment for ...Well, thank you. It was such a strange moment for me, this thing out of nowhere. At least my thought that some critter had stolen it was vindicated, and... ok.... so, actually I'm very very glad that I found it. I'm going to try washing the poor decaying thing and putting it with Boost's memorabilia. <br />Elfhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01827436807468320435noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730801.post-14233976763480644852016-06-25T12:17:19.287-07:002016-06-25T12:17:19.287-07:00Oh, wow. Wonderful family stories, both of them. ...Oh, wow. Wonderful family stories, both of them. Haven was your special girl; how cool that she did some howling to add atmosphere to your life. It's so odd how only certain toys bring out something in some of our critters. Tika had a weasel that made weasel noises that she loved. Went through 2 of them and then couldn't get them any more. Nothing else excited her quite so much for playing with a toy herself. Anyway, the sister story is the best best best story. The love of family & tradition that transcends all else. <br />Elfhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01827436807468320435noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730801.post-91491375690061200052016-06-25T06:05:06.807-07:002016-06-25T06:05:06.807-07:00And now I'm siting in my car crying too. Well...And now I'm siting in my car crying too. Well written heartbreaker.Dawnhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00824027366993286152noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730801.post-28542237176829083972016-06-25T06:04:56.307-07:002016-06-25T06:04:56.307-07:00And now I'm siting in my car crying too. Well...And now I'm siting in my car crying too. Well written heartbreaker.Dawnhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00824027366993286152noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730801.post-36793897876517632302016-06-25T05:41:59.191-07:002016-06-25T05:41:59.191-07:00This story really speaks to me. I have 2 similar s...This story really speaks to me. I have 2 similar stories. My second Dobe, Haven, had a small rubber Christmas stoking toy that she would start squeaking and that would get her howling. She'd have these squeaking/howling sessions a couple of t imes a day but only when she was alone in another part of the house. If anyone walked in on her, she'd stop. I would someimes sneak up and watch her and think how cute she was. We moved a couple of times and always made sure we kept track of it but one day it just disappeared and we never found it again. We tried to find a replacement but couldn't and she never engaged in those squeaking sessions again. The other story is about my sister. We had a tradition of hiding a plastic spider in places in each other's houses for the other to find unawares at some point. the last time my sister came to my house she already knew she was dying from a glioblastoma and it was a sad visit for me as I saw how it was affecting her (this was post surgery and radiation treatment). she left and I later moved up to CT to help care for her as she died and when I returned home I had no heart to go into the guest room that I had decorated just for her visit. When I finally got in there to clean, I moved something and there it was, the plastic spider. I can't even explain the feelings that flooded me. Something like a combination of happiness that she had wanted to play this last trick on me, sadness that she was gone and would never play this trick on me again, laughter that she had had the last word, misery to think that I had lost the person who I always counted on to be my advocate in everything and many more. I have kept that spider along with several of her other little treasures and look at it less and less frequently. But, as you can tell, I don't really need to look at it because I'll never forget that moment as long as I live.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04231983473295856811noreply@blogger.com