This morning at 12:30 am, Deja, the love of my life, died in my arms after losing her battle with liver cancer. She was 14 years old. She had been my baby from the moment I brought her home from the pound at 5 weeks old. She will be cremated and her ashes spread at Nauset Beach in Orleans Ma. It was her favorite spot to swim in the waves and play fetch.
You all may remember my story last December when I found out she was sick. The vet gave her 3 months or so. Wouldn't you know, that stubborn mutt held on for 9 months. It was only just these past 2 weeks that she showed any signs of being sick. She even played fetch yesterday afternoon for a few minutes.
Instead of writing a sob story and crying all over my desk. (that would be impossible because I am totally dehydrated from crying all last night and this morning). I will share a short tale with you about my wonderful, loving, pain in the ass, conniving mutt.
I love to make banana bread. Without bragging too much, I make the best banana bread in the world. It's moist, flavorful, nutless and has just the right amount of spice. After years of rock hard loaves, mushy tasteless loaves and gummy chewy loaves, I gleefully found the perfect recipe while cleaning out my predecessors desk. (He was a gay man who had gone to culinary school. Need I say more?) For months, I made loaf after loaf.
I woke up one morning and made my way down to the kitchen, eager to toast a slice of the fresh bread I had made the evening before. But, all I found on the counter was a cutting board and a knife. Not a crumb in sight. For a split second, I thought Deja had scooped it off the counter. But this was a gigantic loaf. She only weighed 45 pounds. And I had also placed it in the center of the kitchen island. It was at least 3 feet from the edge of the counter top.
So, of course, my next thought was TH. I was seething at the thought of him wrapping up my delicious loaf and carting it off to share with the people who worked for him. That was my bread.
I placed a call and left a vicious voicemail that had no less than 9 profane words and some very clever threats against the junk in his pants. He called me back a few hours later. He hadn't taken the bread. He didn't even know I'd made a loaf.
In short, Deja had eaten the entire loaf. She'd gotten so sneaky that she didn't leave a trace anymore. Her stomach was such a trash compactor, she even ate her breakfast that morning. How a 45 pound dog managed to get a 7 pound loaf of banana bread off a 3 1/2 foot high counter top and eat it without leaving a trace is a secret that has gone with her.
Just to leave you with a more humorous note. Here are a few more things that she managed to ram down her throat in the past 14 years: an entire cork board with thumbtacks, a jumbo box of Wild Berry poptarts (technicolor backyard for a few days after that one), a jar of vanilla body scrub, at least 5 pairs of shoes (when she was a puppy), 4 feet of wall to wall carpeting and just a month ago she ate a 12 pack of hot dog rolls that I'd left on the counter when I went outside to flip the hot dogs on the grill. I was gone for less than a minute. Her amazing ability to "gulp" at the speed of light is a skill that will go unmatched. Her sly nature and scheming earned her the nickname "Weasel Dog".
Please give your dogs a hug for me today.