Tag Archives: Toby the Puppy

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Dogs are in fact ‘loved ones’

I saw a social media post that declared, “Losing a dog is almost as bad as losing a loved one.”

Hah! “Almost as bad”? I beg to differ. Losing a dog is just like losing a loved one. At least that’s the case in my house.

I live in North Texas and am the parent of an energetic 6-year-old Chihuahua mix named Sabol,  Sabol joined my family right after I returned from an overseas vacation in September 2024. We met at a park in Princeton and fell in love with each other immediately.

You see, Sabol was living with a woman who is in failing health and her daughter sought to find a new home for the puppy. That’s when I came along. Sabol took the place of another Chihuahua mix pooch I lost in December 2023 to cancer. I wrote extensively about Toby the Puppy over the nine years he brought joy to my household. I lost Toby the same year cancer claimed my bride of 51 years. Indeed, Toby’s passing provided a symbolic bookend to the worst year of my life. I said farewell to Kathy Anne near the beginning of 2023 and I said the same to Toby the Puppy near the end of that horrific year.

I won’t equate the losses. I won’t say that losing Toby was the same as losing Kathy Anne. I will say, though, that letting Toby go after his battle with cancer became too much for him hurt just like “losing a loved one.” I loved Toby very much.

And I love Sabol just as much.

I long ago ceased referring to myself as a “pet owner.” I am a proud “pet parent,.” And like any parent can fathom, losing a loving furry baby brings plenty of pain.

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Two pups, two personalities

I have had two cherished pooches in my life … one was Toby the Puppy, the other is Sabol, who I also refer to as “puppy.”

They’re both Chihuahua-mix puppies. I lost Toby to cancer in December2023. They have similar coloration. Both are about the same size, although Sabol is a bit pudgier than Toby.

That, however, is where the similarity ends. Toby hated water. That included lawn sprinklers and rainfall. He was good with a bath, though. Sabol? She loves to play in the rain. She rolls around in the mud.

Here’s another difference, which is the point of this blog post. Toby didn’t like loud noises, such as the one the lawmower makes. Sabol seems to relish the sound.

This morning I mowed my back lawn. Whereas Toby would have run like a thief from the sound, Sabol today followed me around the yard barking joyfully at the rumbling Craftsman machine. I had to shoo her away a couple of times when she got too close to it for my comfort.

Sabol didn’t interfere with my lawn-cutting chore. She was just, um, a presence who felt as if she had to make herself known to me while I was in the middle of an important task.

Understand this about Sabol. She joined my family in September 2024, after I had put the lawnmower up for the winter. The sound of the machine was new to her. The lawnmowing session was the first of this grass-growing season for me.

What will I do in the future when it’s time to fire up the lawnmower? I likely will have to keep Sabol restricted indoors while I finish the job. I’m tellin’ ya, puppies are as unpredictable as kids.

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No pairing of these words

High Plains Blogger readers likely know already of the word-pairing I announced long ago when I declared I never would write the words “President” and “Trump” consecutively … and please note that I avoided doing so in this sentence.

Here’s another pair of words you won’t see from me when referring to pets that are part of my family. They are “pet” and “owner.”

Here’s the deal. Pets, be the cats or dogs, become members of my family. Therefore, I don’t “own” them any more than I own my sons. My bride, Kathy Anne, and I brought two baby boys into this world in the 1970s and they have grown into the two finest men I know. I don’t own either of ’em.

Therefore, I don’t own Sabol, the pooch who joined my family when I returned from vacation in September. She is the second puppy who became a member of my family. I lost Toby the Puppy in December 2023 to illness. Then, Sabol came along and, oh brother, she is a fantastic addition to my household.

I have two grandpuppies, Ryder and Dak, and two grandkitties, Macy and Marlowe. Obviously, I don’t own the puppies, either, as they live with my son, my daughter-in-law and my granddaughter. Macy and Marlowe moved in with me when my other son arrived in the spring of 2023.

My bride and I considered ourselves to be more drawn to cats than dogs for many years. We had many cats in our home over the 51-year span of our marriage. We had two of them in Amarillo; we had a calico who joined us in Portland in 1982, then moved with us to Beaumont and then to Amarillo. We were parents to several kitties prior to the calico in Portland.

We tried parenting a couple of pooches during all those years, but they didn’t work out.

Am I being sappy with this blog message about how I use the English language? Sure, I am. So what? Just live with it.

Don’t ever expect to me say I “own” a furry family member.

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Getting used to a pooch

Even though it hasn’t been too terribly long since I lost Toby the Puppy to cancer — and I should be familiar with a pooch’s particular behavior– I am finding that those pooch-handling skills had gotten a bit rusty.

I now have Sabol prancing through my North Texas home. I anticipate a smooth transition to a dog-friendly environment for my newest family member. She is 6 years old and needs to shed some weight.

I do have some quite good news to report: the distance between Sabol and our kitties, Marlowe and Macy, is closing. The cats seem increasingly comfortable sharing their home space with Sabol. As for the puppy? Pfffttt! She couldn’t care less what they think or what territory they claim as their own.

Meantime, I am having to get used to tending to a puppy’s needs. That’s never been an issue in all the years my wife and I were exclusively kitty parents.

I’m getting the hang of it.

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Pooch makes progress

I want to be clear that I do not intend to write about every little moment of progress that my new pooch, Sabol, demonstrates as she learns to navigate her way through her new house,

I just want to share a couple of things for those who care about this journey I’ve taken.

Sabol moved in with my son, our kitties and me. She sprinted out the front door on Day One. I had to run after her.  I am more alert now to her presence when I open the door.

I put food out for her. Guess what … she’s eaten a good bit of it. I worried that she might be so unsettled that she wouldn’t want to eat it. She’s settling just fine.

Sabol also has figured out how to work the doggy door.

Sabol tonight has stared down our kitties, Macy and Marlowe did not sprint to the farthest place in the house as I thought they might. Sabol’s reaction? No problem. She knows this is their house, just as the kitties got schooled by Toby the Puppy when they moved in more than a year ago,

Bottom line? It’s all going to work out just fine.

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Welcome to our family, Sable

Listen up, ladies and gentlemen, for I am about to announce an important decision in my life and in the life of my family.

I have just welcomed a new pooch into my house. She is Sable, a 6-year-old mix of … something, and I have no clue about her ancestry.

I have a ton of good news to report about Sable. First, and with apologies to Sally Field, she likes me, she really likes me. Second, she loves traveling on the road. Third, she settled down right away in my truck when I welcomed her into my family.

You know the story of Toby the Puppy and the devastating loss I suffered at the end of 2023 when cancer took him. He was 9 and had become the perfect companion. Sable won’t replace Toby, but I am going to say right here that she is off to a good start in charting her own course.

Her previous family member told me she is overweight and a bit disheviled. I can take care of both of those issues.

I am looking forward to getting re-acclimated with a pooch around the house.

Oh … one more thing. I have been advised Sable “really loves cats.” Be on guard, Macy and Marlowe.

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A bitter date awaits

My bride and I celebrated April 1 in an odd fashion: we commemorated the birth of our puppy, Toby on that day.

He joined our family in early September 2014. We took him to the doctor to get him vaccinated, neutered … all the stuff pet parents do. The vet looked him over and calculated him to be five months of age. We backed it up five months and learned he was born in early April.

Thus, April Fool’s Day became Toby the Puppy’s birthday.

On Monday, he would be 10 years old. Except that he is no longer with us. He passed away from cancer on Dec. 1.

I had struggled mightily to keep him longer. His 12-pound body couldn’t keep up the fight. His demise ended the worst year of my life, adding a poignant symmetry to a year that began with the loss of my wife on Feb. 3, 2023, and ended with Toby’s passing away on Dec. 1.

I still struggle with Toby’s passing. I well up when I see couples walking their own dogs down my street in Princeton, Texas. I told a dear friend today that I get “jealous,” but she responded that it isn’t jealousy I am feeling, but that “You’re just missing your puppy.” I accept that definition of what happens to me.

It will take some time get over my loss of this critter who turned into the best friend and companion I ever could have imagined. We fell in love with him almost the moment we laid eyes on him in September 2014; he felt the same thing toward us, too. We took him on RV trips to all corners of this country and through the western half of Canada. Was he a road warrior? Damn right!

He made us laugh every single day he lived in our home. That is not an exaggeration! Every single day we giggled at something he did.

I wanted to get this posted today, because I’ll be on the road Monday returning from a brief visit to Amarillo … where our journey as dog parents began.

I will miss him forever … and then some.

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Journey gets brighter

Many of you — those who follow this blog — know about the journey I have taken for the past year.

It started out painfully. It got better over time as I jumped into my pickup and — with Toby the Puppy riding shotgun — traveled to both coasts of this great nation.

We bid a good fu**ing riddance to 2023. My sons and I burned calendars in my back yard the evening of Dec. 31. I had just said so long to my puppy on Dec. 1, ending the year with nearly the pain I felt when I lost my bride, Kathy Anne, to cancer near the beginning of the year.

But now a new year has arrived. We’re three weeks into 2024 and I am happy — no, thrilled and delighted — to report that the pain has all but subsided. I have laid the foundation for a new life in North Texas.

I am committing to some worthwhile projects. I am socializing more. I vowed to find the light at the end of that dark journey and I am going to declare that the light is shining brightly on me. I hope it shines on my sons, my daughter-in-law and my granddaughter.

We have all been through a lot together. I hope they all know how indebted I am for the strength they have shown and demonstrated and I am hoping they have received some strength and encouragement from their old man. They know I love them with every beat of my heart.

My friends all have said that I always will have those moments when emotion takes control of my senses. I get it. Honestly, I truly do.

But I will be damned forever if I let it control me as I soldier on with the rest of my life.

I am looking forward to a year of adventure, I hope a surprise or three, and one that produces plenty of additional cherished memories.

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Sending year out with a blaze

My sons and I are planning a laugh-out-loud party in about 24 hours when we bid good riddance to 2023.

Yes, it was the worst year of our lives. It got off to a tragic start in early February with the passing of Kathy Anne, my wife of 51 years and the mother of these two fine men.

But you know what? I do not intend to cry once we commence our brief commemoration. I intend fully to laugh and smile between the guffaws as we light a fire to signal the end of the year that is about to pass into the crapper.

Kathy Anne and I built a wonderful life together. It began when we both were in college. We were so very young, full of energy, passion (for each other) and a spirit of adventure. Our life took us from Oregon to Texas and then we traveled to 48 of our states and about 16 countries.

Then came the second tragic event to befall us. On Dec. 1 we bid farewell to Toby the Puppy, my best friend, companion and the sweetest pooch God ever created. His loss added a tragic symmetry to the year.

But … as the late George Harrison once sang: All things must pass. 

So, my sons and I are going to bid good riddance to 2023 by burning calendars chronicling the horrible year we all endured. We’ll stoke the flames in a fire pit in my backyard.

Then we’ll welcome the new year filled with hope for a better and brighter future.

Happy new year! May your 2024 be full of fun and joy, too.

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A different new year awaits

Normally, I am inclined to approach the end of a year with a shrug and an “I’ll take whatever comes next” attitude.

2023 has been, and please excuse the understatement, a radically different span of time for my family and me. We lost the rock of our family at the first of the year when cancer struck my dear bride, Kathy Anne. She passed away Feb. 3 and for the time in my entire life I was left to fend for myself. Yes, I have my sons, my daughter-in-law and my granddaughter nearby. I cherish them beyond all measure. However, I am on my own in many ways large and small.

I told someone close to me recently that I lived with my parents until my late teens; then I was inducted into the Army; I served two years under Uncle Sam’s watchful eye; I returned to Mom and Dad’s home; then I met a gorgeous girl in college; we got married shortly thereafter; we were husband and wife for 51 blissful years.

Then she was gone. Just like that. Do you get what I mean by “alone”?

I don’t usually make new year’s resolutions. This year is different. My new year’s resolution — and I am going to declare it here — will be to continue my search for happiness. I will make another declaration. It is that my path is considerably brighter today than it was for most of 2023. I don’t yet know where it will end for me.

I have been able during the months since I lost Kathy Anne to travel through much of the country. I embarked on trips to, as I noted, to “clear my head and mend my heart.” I am happy to report that my noggin is pretty clear as I write these words and my heart is enduring far fewer spasms of grief. I need to state, though, that Kathy Anne’s illness and passing wasn’t the end of my sorrow. On Dec. 1 I lost Toby the Puppy, my companion and best buddy, as he no longer could battle the cancer that ravaged his body.

I am gathering up all the paper calendars I have collected in my house in Princeton and on Dec. 31 I intend — per a suggestion from a friend — to conduct a 2023 calendar-burning event in my back yard. I might even yelp for joy as I watch the flames engulf the numbers “2023.”

When the flames subside and the embers cool in the fire pit, I will commence my journey forward. Kathy Anne insisted many years ago that I seek happiness were she to leave this Earth first. Therefore, I am following her directive.

Forward is the only path for me.

Here is to a much happier year ahead.