Vincent's Progress

Vincent is our foster dog from the CCRT (Canadian Chihuahua Rescue and Transport) that came to the farm one week after Gizmo was killed. As I watch Vincent progress I can't but think how much Gizmo would have helped this little guy.

Vincent is one of the last remaining dogs from the Oakville hoarding situation back in April 2011. He was rescued by the Oakville Humane Society in April and spent months in another cage at the Humane Society.

Vincent would sit shaking in his cage terrified of all the people, dogs, cats and noises. When potential families would look at him they would see a disfigured chihuahua that refused to be held, walked or touched. Vincent would freeze or try and run.

Vincent survived the first two years and eight months of his life by running and he still didn't get away without damage.

While still a puppy Vincent had his ears chewed off. One ear is completely gone and there is only a small piece of the other ear flap remaining. I looked up the article and the dogs were stacked on top of each other in large crates. Several dogs to a crate and they were left intact to breed.

http://www.thespec.com/news/local/article/513520--33-chihuahuas-seized-from-oakville-home

The article reports 33, but the Humane Society says it was 37 chihuahuas that were seized. As of August 2011 there are only three remaining chihuahuas that have not been adopted, and Vincent is one of them.

After several months of being unable to find Vincent a home the Humane Society called the CCRT and asked if they could take Vincent into rescue and see if he'd thrive in a foster home. The CCRT called me.

It was one week since Gizmo was killed and I spoke the the regional coordinator in tears one evening. I suggested that perhaps we wouldn't be a good home. We'd just lost a Gizmo. She asked if we needed time. I thought, yes and then she told me about Vincent.

I didn't think my heart could break further at this point, but it did a little for this damaged soul. Gizmo would want us to help this little guy. Gizmo would not hesitate to let Vincent crawl into his heated bed to cuddle. Gizmo would have shown Vincent where we keep the endless supply of kibble. Gizmo would have played with Vincent and shown him how to be a real dog.

I cried as I drove to pick up Vincent. I took Taz and Poco for the ride to Oakville since I couldn't possibly leave them behind. We walked into the busy building as an elderly man at the counter was making arrangements for cremation for his pet. I cried a little more. He looked so sad.

I waited my turn and took in the bags of dog food, toys and supplies on the floor: donations. The staff was incredibly friendly and helpful. I kept my tears in check long enough to meet Donna who was cuddling Vincent. She had tears shimmering in her eyes as she passed Vincent over to my arms stating "please take good care of him. He deserves a break."

We exchanged emails and I promised to keep Donna and the staff at the Oakville Humane Society posted on Vincent's progress.

I took a video of Vincent's first day on the farm. He wouldn't come close to me, but would run over and sniff my hand then then run away. He's was so afraid and Gizmo would have loved him.

Vincent sat between the seats of my Smart car the whole drive to the farm. I cried and Taz tried to lick my face while I drove. I thought of Gizmo.

Vincent must have been tired because he spent his first week sleeping or hiding. We let him. In his second week he started to cuddle and tried to play with Taz. It's like a tap dance scene from West Side Story. Who's the Jet and who's the Shark?

After three weeks at the farm Vincent barked for the very first time. The progress is incredible. Go give your dog a hug and he'll hug you back in all sorts of ways.

When Gizmo first came to the farm he slept for months and it was a year before we heard his rough bark. Vincent was more damaged on the outside, but luckily dogs have no idea that appearances matter.

Vincent is a tribute to our Gizmo who still continues to rescue other dogs in need. Thanks little dude for keeping us on the right path and for watching over us from your heated dog bed in heaven. We miss you buddy.

Water Wings

It hit me when... 
I was putting on my socks.
I was cutting the grass and I looked out on the road.
I was walking out to turn off the water pump.
I was feeding the dogs. 
I was getting the mail. 
I was planning our next puppy friendly vacation. 


When I found the little brown sweater with the buttons on it that is the same colour as Gizmo. 


It's my last thought at night before I fall into a shallow sleep and the first thought when I wake up. 


He's gone. My Gizmo is gone and I can't change it. I can't bring him back and I miss him so much it hurts.


I got the package in the mail from International Therapy Dogs with Taz & Gizmo's ID cards and information. Gizmo would have been an amazing therapy dog.


Sometimes when I'm outside and it's really sunny, I think: Gizmo wouldn't have been outside much today because he didn't like it when it was too sunny; or when it rained, but he loved the snow. He'd push his way through and you could almost hear his puppy giggle. He'd come in covered in snowballs delighted with himself. He was always so delighted with himself. 


I miss him so much. Life goes on and thing go on and work goes on, but I still miss him every moment of everyday. I can't think of much I wouldn't trade to get my Gizmo back.


My heart aches and the tears fall as I think of his chubby little body and his happy smile. I'm sad or angry or empty. I still smile, but it's only through the tears. 


I can barely hear the things going on around me. It sounds like the radio is on low and I can't quite make out the words to the song, but I can hear the noise. It's like Charlie Brown's teacher talking. I know things are happening and the world is spinning, but I'm not really a part of it. 


I like riding my motorcycle and the wind knocks the thoughts out of my head. I like going a little too fast. I like a little danger. It makes me feel a little more alive, but this is when it hits me. Gizmo hated my motorcycle. 


I have been reading a little on grief and I know everything I'm feeling is normal. I found this great quote about the ocean: Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.

I could really use some water wings.  

Farm Life Goes On

Amid our sadness and grief there are still other animals that must be tended to and care for with summer quickly fading to fall. The tire needs to be fixed on the tractor. The hay building needs to be cleaned out and the roof repaired. The pig shelter needs to be moved, insulated, sided and fenced.

The water needs a float.  A trip to the feed store is in order for chicken feed, pig feed and some more white electric fence ribbon.

We have two roofs to fix and a shelter to build for the backhoe before October. This doesn't include the daily activities of feeding and watering. This doesn't include puppy care, foster care, vet visits and some sort of social life.

It's amazing I have time to cry. We've had to stop recent projects because of the grief. Brent and I simply could not move forward. We had to sit and cry. We miss our little dude who was a huge part of our daily life. It's not getting easier and in some ways it's harder the farther away we get from the day Gizmo died.

We did get the pig shelter built, moved and sided. We've gotten to visit with a handful of friends. We've been lucky enough to share our grief. There's a lot of people that miss Gizmo.

Life on the farm must go on, but every few hours the loss hits me in the gut like a Mike Tyson punch. It hits me in the core and rattles everything. I have to stop. I can't breathe. It's the same image that causes me to double over - picking his little body up off the road knowing.

It's seeing his body in the dark, not moving, not breathing and Brent immobile over top. It's scooping him up and his head lists to the side. It's cuddling him until his warmth is gone.

A friend said I need to find the joy back in life. I have smiled as Vincent comes to life with our love. I have smiled when we brought Autumn a bale of this years hay and she nickered in delight.

I've laughed at Brent arguing with the j-trim as we sided the pig building, but deep down there is a sadness. A loss. Immense grief that catches me off guard and knocks me down for the day.

Time is a great healer and most of the time, I'm filling time, until time passes. That's like therapy. Ironic that the beast that took my Gizmo is the same thing that gives me comfort. The farm. I hate it and I love it.

I've been thinking about the beach lately. I've been thinking about long walks on the beach with no cars. I've been thinking about winter isolation. I've been thinking about escaping for a little while. I guess I've been thinking a lot lately.

I miss Gizmo.

Going to Town

As I make my rounds through town people are noticing the lack of a gorgeous chocolate shih tzu that used to be part of our pack. The owner of the PetValue in Fort Erie remembered Taz's name and then started to talk about the most beautiful chocolate shih tzu that comes into the shop. I showed her a picture of Gizmo and she said "yes!" Where is he?? Gone. Lost. Dead.

I cried in the middle of PetValue. She gave me a free sample.

I got home and got the mail and in an envelope was a letter from International Therapy Dog wanting to congratulate us on completing the multi-dog therapy dog training. Taz and Gizmo were a team and just got their therapy dog status this past June. Bitter sweet. Happy and heartbreaking. Sad and wonderful. More tears for my overflowing bucket.

No wonder I don't want to leave the house when every time I turn there is a six degrees of separation person who misses Gizmo. It hurts and wells up inside me and then I'm proud that he touched so many people.

A friend said I needed to find the joy in life again and one of my favorite things to do is ride Autumn. I rode and then gave her a big bubble bath. It passed the time, but the grief is still strong.

I moved the horse and goats back into their three acre paddock and walked back into the house to notice that my necklace was hanging off my neck and my locket was gone.

The week Gizmo died I ordered a locket. It was a simple silver locket with a paw print in the front, Gizmo's name engraved on the back and his picture inside. I loved it. I lost it too.

I contacted the company I ordered the locked from (Heartsmith) and they're sending me a new one. ASAP. A ride on my horse and an act of kindness. There is still some goodness left. I think Heartsmith may have pulled a Gizmo. An act of kindness.

The Bed

I have a HUGE King size panel bed that easily stands over four feet at the mattress. It's huge and lovely. The dogs have a tough time getting in and out of it. I've tried cushions, stairs, couches, ramps and nothing.

The nothing was bad because they'd wake me up in the middle of the night to get on and off the bed. It wasn't like Gizmo where I had to get up and walk him down stairs for a drink. Poco and Taz can do it on their own. I was also afraid they might fall off.

I put a ramp up, but that lasted a day when Taz got her toe nail caught and cried like a baby. That's it! The bed is going on the floor.

I can only say I bought the bed years ago from Lampman's Furniture in Fenwick and it wasn't cheap. Now, my not so cheap bed with lifetime warranty on the mattress is sitting on the floor because of my dogs.

I still have the headboard and footboard in place, but the box spring and mattress sit on the floor. I have an old couch cushion as a step, so they can jump up and down. It's a big bed. At first it felt like sleeping in a coffin with the high front and back, but now it feels safe and comfortable.

Even little Vincent can manage the leap and the pups spent the first day delighting in jumping on and off the bed without any hint of danger.

Gizmo would have loved it, but he'd still wake me up in the middle of the night to turn on the hall light, so he could navigate the stairs. I think he was afraid of the dark.

Grief and Thoughts

What do you believe? Fate? Destiny? Karma? A higher being? God? Religion? Do you believe that things happen for a reason? Do you cling to your beliefs during times of crisis? I have a certain amount of ambiguity about my beliefs.

Life is rarely clear defined as good and evil or black and white. Life is full of grey areas and this is particularly true when discussing fault. Brent and I are responsible for keeping our heartbeats safe. We must keep them out of danger they don't understand. We failed to keep Gizmo safe and accept our responsibility. 

Brent and I are level headed people and understand accidents happens. We've walked that off leash walk from car to house a hundred times and we knew the risks, but we never actually believed anything bad would happen.  

A parent can tell a child a million times to watch for cars, but if a child gets hit by a car a parent feels guilty. Why? Because, it's a parents job to keep their children safe. It's my job to keep my puppies safe and I failed. I take responsibility. I won't blindly accept that it's not my fault and I ask for forgiveness. 

I am responsible for Gizmo's death and I have to live with that. Was it destine to happen? Am I somehow less responsible because of fate? I don't know, but I am living with my broken family and fractured life. Gizmo was our glue, he was our love and our joy. I miss his so much. 

I had this vision of my family over the next ten years and my vision is shattered. I can't seem to adjust to life without Gizmo. I had the most amazing family for three years and I should be grateful, but I'm lost without my little dude.

I marvel at how versatile Taz has been over the years. She lost her most loved companion: Misiu, who helped her transition from puppyhood into adulthood before he died. She grieved deeply at his absence. She stopped eating. Stopped playing and would sit in the window watching the world, but refusing to participate. Gizmo has left her, along with all the fosters that have come and gone over the years. She's spent some time sitting alone in the back porch gathering all her dearest toys and staring outside. This is her grief.

I wish I was at the phase where I could see the good and feel positive, but I'm not there yet. Give me time.

Changing the bedroom

I clean out my bedroom today. I put in a new TV wall mount and hooked everything up and it works. I moved out a couch and put in a ramp, so the dogs can still get on the bed. I thought of Gizmo the whole time.

When Taz and Poco would retire for a nap while I re-organized a part of the house, but Gizmo would watch and jump on every opportunity to play and plunder. I missed his little chubby body while I moved the wall unit without his help. I picked up a package of unchewed paper and thought of my little dude.

I put the drill bit down knowing he wouldn't be trying to eat the sawdust and possibly cut his lips on the drill bit. I moved things and thought of Gizmo.

He would have had a great time today re-arranging the bedroom. He was always my co-conspirator when it came to moving the furniture of the house. Nary a blanket was moved without his spit or at least a quick bite of a pillow.

I can only hope he would approve of the new changes. I wish he was here to give the okay.

Another long day of missing my boy. Another full moon trying to break through the clouds. Another car going too fast down my road.

I want to tell you all a happy tale of moving the pig house, but I'm not ready. I don't know when I'll be ready.

Gizmo walking the Bridge

The sky looks like heaven tonight. Blue sky with pink and gold edging on the fluffy white clouds. I imagine Gizmo and I are both under that sky tonight. It's a summer night in August and we've got a fire going in the backyard and I can't help but think of my Gizmo. I have the wagon with a pillow out for Taz, but I think Gizmo would really love it too.

I'd like to say my heart breaks, but it's already broken and I realize now I can't fix it's deep fracture, but I know it will heal with time. I feel sore and tired like I've run a marathon, but I've only gotten out of bed. I crawl from my dark room and drink tea and check my email. Another day goes by and another day I move farther away from the memory of my little chocolate love.

I wander my farm and look after the other critters who still need my care. I mow the grass and get the mail and see the spot where my Gizmo died and I don't want to live here anymore. It feels like it was never real. It feels like the farm was an illusion. Life can never be that good.

It's like losing myself. It's like nothing can really be that good... and last. I wasn't prepared for the shoe to drop. I wasn't ready to lose a piece of my family. I am distraught.

With Gayle's words swirling in my head I walk out and sit crying at Gizmo's grave when I suddenly see him clearly in my mind. He's walking across a long beautiful bridge and he stops and turns his head to look at me. He wags his tail and jumps a little and I think, I've got to let you go Gizmo.

I cried a little harder and I said good-bye to my little dude and watched him trot happily along the bridge. I couldn't see where he was going, but he wasn't afraid to go there and I finally found some comfort. Gayle is right, my Gizmo is still surrounded by love.

Knowing I need to let him go and letting him go are two different processes, but I'm glad that I finally know what I need to do. I'm glad I can work towards something.

I still cry everyday and probably will for a very long time, but I can picture him doing is cheeky backwards glance and almost hear him giggle his puppy giggle.

Nothing, but time will ease the grief. Nothing but love will heal this ache.

I still can't believe it happened. I miss my Gizmo every moment of everyday. His dance, his wiggle, his giggle and his love. I was so blessed.

I remember making the video of Gizmo on his last day and the final shot is of Taz and Gizmo and on the tape I say "oh... my twins". I miss having my twins. I miss having the pair that loved and played. I miss my Gizmo.

Gayle's Message from Gizmo

My dear Amy,
I don't know what I have to say will bring you any relief, but this I know to be true. He's safe in the hands of his Maker. I saw him go to the other side for I helped guide him there upon hearing of his passing. He hesitate to crossover the bridge, but I told him that he must go there and play in the meadow with my Sugar and Zangi and when the time comes we will all join him. He is surrounded with love there, so he is not alone.. He promised to keep an eye out for you. The grief you feel is more than gut wrenching, this I also know. I compare it to losing a child, it feels like a piece of your soul has been torn asunder by a hurricane. You feel like you are drowning in your own tears and you can't come up for air. Your body feels beaten up, your head throbs from all the "what ifs" . No other grief will ever compare to what your are experiencing. Gizmo's life was filled with love because of you! He knew what you went through to get him and how you made him his own, he made you his world. Oh, how he wanted to please you! He could never find enough ways to say thank you for saving him. Thats why he was so good with the other dogs you brought home. He understood where they were coming from and would tell them what a wonderful life they were going to have with their very own family (once my mommy fixes you up, you'll be good as new!") He gave them courage, trust, understanding, patiences and love. He gave everything he knew and learned from you.
He was and is, so proud of you! For he felt he had the best mommy in the world. He knew how special he was all the time. He accomplished things on this earth that most people (muchless dogs) don't get to do. He wants to say thank you for believing in him and never giving up on him, no matter how ruff things got. You just loved him through it all. He says he's going to tell everybody about his mommy and daddy on earth, so everyone will know who you are when you come. But don't rush mommy! I'm okay waiting for you!
He sees your tears, even the ones you don't shed. And this saddens him, but he is knows this means you love him and miss him. He is boasting, again! "Celebrate my life, mommy!" Celebrate my life!" For I will celebrate yours everytime I see you share life and love with another dog! It means you loved me and honoured me. It means I was special!" Don't worry, I know you can't forget me! No matter how far away I am, I'm really not that far. If you sit very still, you can feel me. 

God! This dog is making me cry again! He sealed my fate with shi tzus I think forever! Pure love he was! Pure dark chocolate love!

Oh oh! One more message from Gizmo! "Good cookies, mommy! good treats! I love you! I love you! I love you!" I must have done something really good, because I am being spoiled!!!! Thank you for loving me for no one could have loved me more! I am the luckiest lil'boy! oh, and mommy? Its ok to love again. I'm so proud of you!" Snuggles and Licks!

Perfect Home

The farm was perfectly balanced. All the animals that lived in the house brought joy, love and a wonderful balance to our home.

Poco is our guardian. Our stoic male role model who still dreams of the marine corp that he's now retired. Poco can clean a rifle, fetch a ball and take you down in a knife fight. He'll also defend his home and all those who reside inside. He loves with all his heart, but please don't ever point it out. He's our soldier, defender and protector. You can feel safe knowing Poco is on duty.

Super Taz is our watcher and our hunter. Nary a stray leaf passes the lawn without her knowledge. A frog does not spawn, hop or swim without her permission. She'll out run you, out bark you and own you in a matter of minutes. She's loud, crass and defiant. She loves with all her heart and is not ashamed to be exactly who she is: a warrior. Taz also gives great kisses and cuddles. She's not shy about her passions.

Gizmo was our lover. He filled the house with nothing but joy and laughter. He would big bear fight with Taz, but that was the extent of his ire. Gizmo was our romantic, our cuddler, our sweet and peaceful boy. Gizmo hated the rain, wet grass and loud noises. Gizmo would demand you stop playing on the computer and play with him. He would insist on attention with his head on your shoulder he'd roll on his side to accept all kinds of bell rubs. Gizmo was an expert at begging for cookies, food and meals. I'm certain Taz and Poco would send Gizmo in to beg for cookies and I never said no. He was my cookie monster.

My balanced triangle is missing a side. My home is missing it's love. My life is broken and it's so hard to adjust. I don't know how to right this wrong. I don't know how to find my love again? There is something obviously absent in my home. There is a soul missing at roll call. There is a heartbeat that isn't beating anymore.

The love has been replaced by grief. There is a cloud that has settled over this farm and without the love to push it off I fear it may stay dark for a long long time.

It will be a week today when the cloud settled over the farm, when a light went out, a soul lost and our love was lost. I'm still waiting for it to get easier. I'm still waiting for tomorrow, but how to go forward without love?

I turned the radio off in the kitchen because it kept playing that song that played the night Gizmo died and I'd remember holding my limp puppy in my arms and watching my love die. I can't seem to get to the tomorrow where things get better. I can't seem to find the path that heals.

There is no more kitchen dancing at the farm. There is no daily Gizmo duet before dinner. There are no morning tummy tickles or afternoon games of rattle.

Gizmo had a particular way of cuddling with his head on my shoulder and his body across my chest with his belly exposed for rubbing. We'd sit in the evening with his nose in my ear and my hand on his belly until he snored and woke himself up. I'd laugh.

He brought so much laughter into my life. He was all the things in this world that are good and loving and genuine. 

Missing you more than I can say my Gizmos.

Gizmo and the CCRT

Years ago we noticed that Gizmo had a passion for chihuahuas. Every time we ran into one of the little chi's he'd get so excited. They were smaller than him and highly energetic. I remember a time in Key West at an off leash dog park that Gizmo fell instantly in love with a long haired female who admired him as well. It got me thinking.

Three dogs was our limit, but I'd always wanted to see if a chi would fully bring Gizmo out of his shell, so Brent and I agreed to join the Canadian Chihuahua Rescue and Tranport (CCRT). We put our application to be a foster home back in early June 2011.

The process is long and time consuming, but we were finally successful on Saturday, August 6, 2011 a mere four days following Gizmo's death. On Sunday, August 7, 2011 we got a call that the CCRT was in dire need of foster homes and could we foster a little guy.

I was in tears when I spoke to the coordinator on Sunday night and told her what happened to our Gizmo. I hinted that we might not be a trustworthy foster home. She didn't hesitate. We were just fine.

She called back on Monday afternoon and asked if we could pick up our new foster on Tuesday afternoon. Exactly one week since we lost our Gizmo. I cried. I wondered. I couldn't say no.

I pick up Vincent around 1 pm on August 8, 2011 from the Oakville Humane Society. Vincent was named after the artist Van Gogh because they are both missing an ear. Vincent came from a hoarding situation where his one ear was bitten completely off and the other ear was mangled.

When I first saw Vincent I thought, Gizmo would love him. He was so shy he made Gizmo look like a social butterfly. He was so timid Poco looked like a socialite. Taz hated him instantly, but will play with him if necessary.

Vincent is sleeping on my lap as I write this and he's warm. Taz is curled beside my leg and Poco is at my feet. These moments make me miss my Gizmos so much it hurts. I've never had a dog that could cuddle like a Gizmo - across my chest, head on my shoulder and nose in my ear.  I miss him so much there is a hole inside me.

I miss my Gizmo, but he would have loved Vincent and Gizmo has started us on another rescue adventure with a new group. Vincent says thanks Gizmo. Thanks. One little dog can make a difference.

Vincent's First Day at the Farm 

Vincent Convinces Taz to Play

Gizmo, love Erin

This was written by my thirteen year old niece Erin. Thank you Erin for letting me share this on my blog: 


I just read your blog...I had my first breakdown. I cried, for at least an hour. I tried to distract myself but I couldnt stop. I still cant stop. Its the worst thing Ive ever felt. I thought about the last time I was with him. We were in the Volkswagon Thing. He was laying on my lap, tired from the long walk on the beach. He had crawled up to my ear and made his cute little snorts while licking it like crazy. When we pulled up to my house, I didnt want to leave him. I had the best day with him, and you. 

I miss him. I miss his old man noises. His quiet little snores when he sleeps. The way he walks. His funny little barks. His crazy four in a row sneezes. Everything. I miss everything...

I love him as much as I love my own dogs. I dont know why, but from the moment I met him I loved him instantly. How could you not?

When I was little, and even now, I went through a million best friends. Who doesnt?
He was, and still is a best friend. I couldnt get enough of him. I wanted to spend every possible moment with him. I wish I would have.

Thank you. Thank you for bringing him into my life...he is the best thing in the world.

He is still with us, and always will be...because of this:

Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality
-Emily Dickinson


love,
Erin 

Special Little Dude

When I was struggling through my early thirties I gave a lot of thought to what I wanted out of life, how to spend my time and what was important.

This is where my devotion to my dogs was born. I'd always loved animals, but I made a conscious decision to make them a big part of my life. I became involved in dog rescue and met other wonderful like-minded people. It was nice to learn that I was not the only crazy dog lady.

Brent and I found our Gizmo. It took a few weeks to organize the adoption and it was an exciting day when Taz and I made the pilgrimage to Ohio to rescue our Little Dude.

I knew the instant I saw him that he was my baby boy. Gizmo was sick and fearful when he first came to the farm, but his spirit was strong. 

I spent months nursing him back to health and then years loving him and helping him come out of his shell to become a glowing, amazing star who learned to shine brightly.

Gizmo loved everyone. He embraced life whole heartedly and would delight in even the smallest bit of cookie. Gizmo and I kitchen danced everyday to whatever song was on the radio that constantly plays in our house.

Each morning I would wake him with belly tickles and he would give me a nose lick in return. When I'd try to stand him up he would slump back over collapsing into bed, but his wagging tail would always give him away. He refused to stand on his big boy legs. Giggling I'd pick him up and cuddle him while his tail wagged like mad and he made his old man noises. We'd walk downstairs smiling together and I'd make a special trip outside, so he could do his business. Gizmo never did figure out the dog door.

Once back in the house he'd dance and spin until he got a cookie which he'd take into the living room and eat on the white carpet. He'd run back into the kitchen and wiggle around my legs until I gave him breakfast.

Whether I was working or not this is how I started everyday. Every moment brightened by Gizmo. Ever step a little lighter, every chore a little easier and a smile to go with it all.

Gizmo loved to play with me. He liked to chase my hands and I'd try and grab his paw. He'd get so excited that he couldn't contain himself and would run like mad around the house. I'd run too and we'd do laps around the island and into the living room until we'd collapse on the floor where he'd wiggle over to lick my ear.

Gizmo gave the best ear licks.

Gizmo loved laundry. Clean or dirty. He would help me make the bed by grabbing the sheet and pulling. He'd delight in getting stuck under the fitted sheet and wiggle until I'd find him and set him free. He'd dance with joy and try to steal my pillows as I put on the pillow cases.

Taking off clothing was an even bigger event. He loved to steal my uniform shirts, socks and bra. I'd find clothing stashed under the coffee table in the living room. There's still an old sports bra under my coffee table because I don't have the heart to pick it up.

Gizmo was a part of my daily life. He brought light, joy and love to me everyday and this is why his loss  overflows my heart with grief. I wish for so many things right now. I wish for Gizmo to be back. I wish I'd left him in the stroller. I'd wished we'd built the fence like we'd talked about so many times.

I am broken. Torn apart. Alone and lost. I don't know how to get through this horrible event. This thing. This death.

I miss my Gizmos.

Two in the Morning

I was laying in bed at 2 am with quiet tears falling down my cheeks wetting my pillow. I rolled over, got out of bed and crept out of the bedroom so I didn't disturb my family. I had the air conditioning on and wanted to see if it was still humid outside, but I didn't want to wake Taz by using the back door. 

I walked through the living room and pushed down the bit of fear I always have of the dark. My hand grabbed the cool brass of the front door and I twisted it open and stepped outside. 

It was humid, but not hot. It felt like everything was dripping with moisture, with fresh tears. The concrete step was cool as I lower myself down and sat heavily. I stared straight ahead at the road. At the site where Gizmo lost his light and I wept. 

A black pick up truck drove by and I tried not to picture the wheel running over the small tender body of Gizmo, but it came into my mind before I could block the horrible image. I shook with the heaviness of knowing and squeezed my eyes tightly shut burying my eyes into my hands trying to breathe. 

I forced my eyes open and with a bit of gold magic I imagined my Gizmo getting up and trotting up the front walkway to meet me on the porch. 

I smiled at Gizmo afraid that if I touched him he would vanish, so I opened the front door and invited him into the house. He entered with excitement and danced across the living room with his toe nails making that undeniable sound on the floor. 

I said "hey little dude, let's go up to bed" and he ran in a circle and then up the stair ahead of me. He waited at the top of the steps and then we both turned into the bedroom. I lifted him onto the bed and watched as he curled into his spot. I crawled into bed and stroked his head "good night Giz" I whispered and finally fell asleep. 

I woke this morning remembering my night time stroll with Gizmo and smiled, but the grief struck me in the chest and my smile turned to tears. I miss my little dude.

Goodbye to Gizmo

He liked to kitchen dance. He loved his race car bed the most. He would never turn down anything to eat, except lettuce. He loved his crunchy cookies bought special for him.

Gizmo was killed August 2, 2011  around 1030 pm.

I can't believe he's gone. I can't believe I'll never cuddle his body the way he likes, I'll never get another ear lick and I'll never watch him get so excited that he can't sit still and does this whole body dance.

I can't stop crying. I can barely breathe. I don't know how to get through today. I don't know how to live without a Gizmo.

He just turned four years old in June.

My heart is broken. It feels sore in my chest and sometimes I can't catch my breath. It feels like my baby died. I feel responsible. I feel guilt and a grief so violent that it threatens to tear me into pieces.

Gizmo's favorite toy is a rattle that he stole from James when my nephew James was a baby.

It doesn't feel like someone took a limb, it feels like someone stole my soul. Gizmo was the most loving, kindness, sweetest baby boy, with not a single bad bone in his body. I feel like he was all the good things in the world. He was all the good things in me. All my good things are gone.

He has to sneeze at least four times before he can bark and he has to be very excited.

I have lost my child. There is a hole in my body and deeper into my spirit that will never quite heal. Losing him this way is devastating. I don't feel broken apart, where I could put myself back together. I am unsalvageable.  I will never be the same.

After two years Gizmo still can't work the dog door.

Time is a great healer. I know this, but I don't know how to get through this time. It hurts. It hurts so much and I don't know what to do. I am completely lost and with no Gizmo to guide my way I don't know how I'll ever find the comfort of home again.

Gizmo loves to kitchen dance.

I look my age today. Maybe older. They say that happens when you survive a traumatic moment. I feel very old and broken down. I feel defeated. I am lost.

We were on our way home for a dog rescue meeting. All three pups in the Smart car heading towards home. Brent called and met me in the driveway. I parked in the barn like usual and he took Taz and Poco and started walking towards the house. We've done this off leash walk hundreds of times.

Gizmo hates to be outside. He loves the comfort of his soft bed and the safety of the house.

Gizmo was still in the car and I pulled out the stroller and put him in and started pushing it to the house, but he was very excited and wanted out to follow his big brother and big sister to the back door of the house.

Gizmo and Taz are a bonded pair and have been for at least two years.

At the last second a rabbit darted out from under the car and Poco, Taz and Gizmo gave chase. The rabbit darted right for the road. I called out to Taz who immediately stopped chasing and came back. I called to Poco, but he kept going. I called to Gizmo and couldn't see him in the dark, but I could hear his bell.

We put a cat collar with a bell on Gizmo because sometimes you can't find him right away even in the house.

I grabbed Taz and threw her in the house while Brent was chasing the boys. I heard it. Like a muffled popping sound, and I knew. I knew immediately without seeing and I ran across the lawn screaming "no. no. not Gizmo". He never cried out once.

Gizmo hates to run. He hates grass, especially wet grass.

Gizmo was chasing his brother. Gizmo thought it was a game. Gizmo ran over grass and towards the road. These are all things Gizmo never does, except this one time.

Poco was still lose on the wrong side of the road and I saw him running over to us as we crouched over Gizmo's lifeless body. I picked up Poco and handed him to Brent.

There was one car on the road. She stopped. She apologized. She cried too.

I gently pick up Gizmo and carried him cushioned against my chest into the house. I thanked the girl for stopping. I was part way across the lawn when I started talking. I was crying and saying things like "oh god no. no. no. not my baby Gizmo". I think I repeated these words over and over again for an hour as we sat on the kitchen floor with our Gizmo for the last time.

Gizmo will never eat another one of his favorite heart shaped grain-free cookies.

Brent and I sat on the kitchen floor taking turns holding our dead puppy. At first we just held him and cried. Wailed. Uncontrollable, near fainting, hyperventilating, deep in the core of your soul grief. I stroked his head and his ears trying to make a memory of the texture. I looked at his face and watched his eyes for any sign of life. There was no pulse. There was limited signs of trauma.

Gizmo favorite place to sleep is next to the kibble.

Time got very weird as we sat on the kitchen floor. Sometimes I'd look at the clock and it hadn't moved and other times I'd lose an hour. I don't know how long we sat there petting Gizmo's body willing it to come back to life. The reality has not set in.

Gizmo just got his therapy dog status.

Poco curled up right next to us on the floor and watched. He looked sad, but he almost always looks sad. Taz came over and sniffed Gizmo paw and then slunk away and didn't come near us for the rest of the night. I think they were confused.

Gizmo's bark sounds like he's a heavy smoker. Gruff.

I begged Brent to bring him back to life. I struck the floor and yelled. I begged god to bring back my little dude. He was so good. So sweet. So wonderful. Please, please, please. I begged.

Gizmo just learned to lay down.

We got Gizmo's favorite soft blue baby blanket and wrapped him up. We tucked his tail inside and I marveled at how soft and long his tail had gotten. He'd always had a lovely coat. We continued sitting on the floor taking turns holding our baby boy wrapped in a blanket until we could breathe.

Gizmo just got his teeth cleaned last week.

I ask Brent a question that we're still asking. "What do we do?" Brent said through a sob: we put him to rest. The eruption of tears threatened to choke me. I was struck with a wave of denial, anger, rage, grief and sadness all at once. I couldn't talk. I couldn't do anything but hold him tighter against my chest willing my heart beat to be his heart beat.

Gizmo had eye surgery over a year ago.

After a while neither of us decided to get up, but we did because it was time. Gizmo was no longer looking like our Gizmo. We were holding on to his body and his soul was gone. With heavy steps we walked to the backyard and prepared Gizmo's grave.

Gizmo had allergies.

With the hole dug, we stood together shaking and holding our boy. I whispered "this can't be happening" and Brent broke down for a few minutes. I was standing alone holding Gizmo for the last time.

Gizmo makes old man noises.

I whispered to Gizmo: "mommy loves you very much my baby boy and I hope you can forgive us for letting you down and not keeping you safe. We send all our love to get you to safely to heaven."

Gizmo hates the rain.

Brent held Gizmo while I positioned his favorite bed in the grave. Brent stood crying and holding Gizmo for a long time. Saying his own good-byes. I took Gizmo from Brent and securely wrapped him in his baby blue soft blanket covering his face as I laid him in his bed.

Brent threw the first handful of dirt and we cried and hugged. "Let's irish up this funeral" he said and we stumbled back to the house for a bottle or two.

Gizmo never goes near the road because he's afraid of cars.

We came back out and finished burying our baby. I knew he was going to die before me, but I thought it would be on my terms. I thought it would be my choice. I thought it would be different.

Life is not fair. Life is often cruel. Life is often ended without anyone making a choice.

We miss our Gizmo and this will change our lives forever. How will we get through today?

The post I wrote prior to this one is called  A Gizmo Moment and I had no idea he was going to die that night. I think the video is the same day.

Taz in mourning;

Michelle Branch Gives Gizmo his song: 

A Gizmo Moment

Gizmo is my baby boy. He's loves the stroller, cuddling and eating. Gizmo hates going outside, rain and damp grass. He's more of a baby than a princess and it's okay to baby this little guy. Gizmo spends most of his time sleeping. We think of him as part cat and part shih tzu.

In the winter he'll spend all day stretched out in his heated bed and only break out of his nest to do the necessities like eat, drink and then potty.

Gizmo has become increasingly outgoing with our attention and love. He started playing last year and it's the funniest thing to watch him running like mad around the living room with his mouth open and tongue hanging out. He doesn't last long at these mad dashes, partly because he's out of shape and partly because he probably had permanent lung damage from being a puppy mill survivor.

It could be his horrific past that allows extra cuddles or maybe just because he's the cutest puppy that ever lived. Either way this dog is little chocolate bag of love.

Taz and Gizmo couldn't be more different or more devoted. They are like brother and sister in the way they play and love. Gizmo tends to ignore Tazs snarling and Taz tends not to snarl too much at Gizmo. Taz lets Gizmo do things she would never allow another dog to do, like sleeping in her bed or stealing her food and toys. Gizmo takes full advantage of Taz cuddles, but respects her enough to never steal her favorite pink pig.

We like to call them the Twins even if they are different breeds and different ages. People often ask if they're from the same litter and some of that is appearance, but most of it is their undeniable connection.

Today I managed to catch a glimpse of Gizmo enjoying some play time. I wanted to posted it to prove that Gizmo does not sleep all the time. There are two videos below: one of Gizmo playing in the living room taken on the 2011 Civic Holiday weekend and the second is of Taz and Gizmo "big bear fighting" during a rainy day on our honeymoon.

He is the cutest puppy ever, especially considering he just turned four years old in June. I hope they brighten your day.

                                                   Gizmo Doesn't Sleep All the Time:

Taz and Gizmo in "Big Bear Fighting" on our Honeymoon

You can hear the rain falling and we're in our travel trailer.