Tomorrow is Pey’s 5th Deathiversary.
Her full name was Peyton (spelled with e or a? was contested and variable), named for ‘The Glove’ Gary Payton. Nick tells us her ancestors came over on the Mayflower…
She had muy colorful nicknames, among them: Poochie McGee, Mayor McPoochie, and Dog Dog.
I called her McGee. It always confused her.
She was our treasured yellow lab, living with various family members until she settled with My Captor and me.
Our son acquired her in college, wasn’t fully prepared for ‘dog care responsibility’, and she still had a touch of PTSD from the experience. She then rotated living with his siblings, until one day he brought her to “meet us”. Moments later, we heard tires squealing in the driveway and we had a dog.
Thankfully, his old girlfriend finally moved out.
And as dog lovers know, she wasn’t really the most amazing dog ever, it just felt that way because she was OUR dog. And a Damn Fine Dog at that.
When she turned 14, it was clear she was no longer living her ‘best life’, and the morning we found her staring at the wall we knew it was time. It made me mildly nervous, it’s my Wheel of Fortune watching look.
We took her to the vet, her life humanely ended. It was my first time to be present for a death, grateful to be there for the finish.
While we loved her, her ashes were expensive, so we opted for a shoebox decorated by the grandchildren, inscribed with “Pey’s Ashes”, filled with oatmeal.
She was tremendous with children, who frequently laid on her – without comment from Pey – but when she got up and moved you knew she’d had enough.
But she had her challenges.
She was spayed, hating Mother’s Day as a result. But after I had my prostrate removed, it felt we had a special bond.
And after the spaying, we could never get her pronouns right.
She threatened to ‘run away’ once, but hitchhiking without opposable thumbs didn’t work.
My Captor made her happy with bowls of chicken, on her birthday and all the major dog holidays.
So tomorrow, we will raise a glass to Dog Dog, and express gratitude for our time with her.
But while contemplating our pet relationships, it occurred to me the country’s divide isn’t red v. blue states, it’s dog v. cat ownership.
Our long time friends were recent visitors – one of the wives saying “we’ve been friends 40 years” – which seemed right, but you know how women are with math – and they expressed their frustration with an angry rescue cat of theirs.
We then had a conversation about how horrible cats are. Well, maybe it was an Old Man Rant, because I recall some angry fist shaking, a few “Kids Today!”, and ranting about the summer I lived in a rental house with a cat and the landlord’s son stole my bitchin’ speakers.
As My Captor can attest, OMRs generally end with “Where was I going with this?”, and I finished with: Cats are sneaky, indifferent to their owners – it appears to make them happy – and can be gone for days.
But unfortunately, eventually return.
Unlike dogs, cats are proud of the fact they don’t need us.
While dogs are always loving, always forgiving.
Even when we called Pey ‘she’ instead of ‘barren reproductionist’ – her preferred pronoun – she would wag her tail and beg for chicken.
Which is why dogs are better: Cats are too damn smart for their own good.
Peyton/McGee has been a BATN topic before:
Why Beers at the Nifty?:
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TO ENHANCE YOUR ENJOYMENT OF THIS POST, PAIR IT WITH THE FOLLOWING SONGS:
Is there a Dog Heaven? Who knows. But my favorite song when I’m contemplating the ‘ever-after’ is:
Dweller On The Threshold Van Morrison
I’m a dweller on the threshold
And I’m waiting at the door
And I’m standing in the darkness
I don’t want to wait no more
I have seen without perceiving
I have been another man
Let me pierce the realm of glamour
So I know just what I am
Turn and face the music
The music of the spheres
Lift me up, consume my darkness
When the midnight disappears
I will walk out of the darkness
And I’ll walk into the light
And I’ll sing the song of ages
And the dawn will end the night
Beautifully said! and having been left with a college dog as well – well We thank our luck everyday that we have 2!! from the same litter because of that college daughter!! and yes hers definitely has some ptsd from his experience!!
You must listen to Chris Stapleton’s Maggie and dare you NOT cry!!
Great tribute to a devoted dog! I love my dogs , and I have 2- maybe3 ? You know how women are at math.
Some cats are more like dogs in that they are more attached and responsive. Less aloof. There’s a woman that I sometimes see at Mallory park that walks her dog on leash and the cat walks along with them. I think it thinks it’s a trans dog. That is until my dogs spot it , in which case the poor thing heads up a tree. It is after all a cat.