tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5026758428339062797.post5332230340787589101..comments2023-09-25T09:13:14.764-07:00Comments on Little Feathers: Goodbye HannahJudy Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02853496627379661248noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5026758428339062797.post-61691111425434733072012-12-06T19:48:11.235-08:002012-12-06T19:48:11.235-08:00. . . and then there is Fred. Fred was a wonderf.... . . and then there is Fred. Fred was a wonderful dog (charPei- the kind without too many wrinkles) but he got this cancer that was inoperable in his belly. It was sad but I was determined to give Fred one wonderful special meal before taking him to the vet to go to doggy heaven. I went to the local bbq and got a special order of bbq tips/ end cuts. Went to serve it to Fred but he could not eat it. I could not give Fred the extra special meal I had intended. I ended up giving him a warm sensitive big hug and just said buddy I love you. I'm sorry you've got this cancer in your belly. I was very sad. Fred, I think, actually understood I was trying to do something extraordinary special for him. He smiled all the way going into the last door at the vetenarians. God Bless you Fred. DadBobhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06112103708164072557noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5026758428339062797.post-22742903135355990562012-12-06T08:41:08.596-08:002012-12-06T08:41:08.596-08:00Thanks, Mary. Here's to Buddy and Hannah!Thanks, Mary. Here's to Buddy and Hannah!Judy Bhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02853496627379661248noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5026758428339062797.post-19116233395669601602012-12-06T08:31:09.025-08:002012-12-06T08:31:09.025-08:00This is lovely, Judy, and all so true. I'm sor...This is lovely, Judy, and all so true. I'm sorry for you and your family over Hannah's passing. Reading your post brings up my sadness over the loss of one of this world's greatest dogs. Buddy often came into the home salon where I got my haircut. A mixed breed, Buddy was a huge guy with a heart as golden as his color and huge as his frame, corny as the words may sound. His eyes haven't looked right for about a year. His big body wasn't doing real well. The last time I saw him he only came by me for a quick sniff and walked off, intent on finding a spot to lay those weary bones down. But I called him back, asked for a kiss. Immediately, Buddy came back, slurped my face, and gave me a minute for a little more coddling before plopping down to rest. Silently, I told him some things about the hereafter. The following week, I had an uncomfortable feeling about him, but I was out of town for a couple of weeks and couldn't arrange to see him. When I returned and went in for a haircut, Buddy was gone. It seems like it should be strange to grieve for a dog I saw a few times a year for seven years. Your blogpost helped draw out my feelings as I recognize a self-limiting 'should' was shutting them away. Buddy owned me too, in a distant way.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com