"Baby" was 13 years old. She was a good dog.
We had just bought Tradition Manor when she came into our lives and we had all kinds of work to do on our new house. The last thing we needed was a dog.
I was working in the yard and Mrs. Tradition (no pics) came home from the flea market (I know, ironic) with this pathetic little dog. Must have been the runt of the litter and all her siblings were sold leaving her all alone. She said the poor thing was shivering in a cage and she just couldn't walk away. She bought an FSU collar and leash so that I'd say, "Yes, you can keep the dog." She also said I could name her so I named her, "Renegade." That lasted about 5 minutes and Mrs. Trad named her "Baby."
Anyway, that started a long journey with dogs. Baby was a "Cockalier" (a designer mutt: a cross between a Cocker Spaniel and a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel).
After we'd had her for a year or so, we bought another Cockalier, named "Buddy."
We allowed them to mate, and we did the whole puppy-breeding thing. They begat Boots, Bruiser, Lily, Peaches and Teddy.
Boots and Bruiser still live with us. Lily lives with a family friend, Peaches lives with my sister-in-law, and Teddy lives with my mother-in-law. Buddy lives with my son at his house.
We buried Baby in the back yard and had a little ceremony. She was all about Mrs. Tradition and wanted to be with her always. When she was young she could jump five feet straight into the air to get her attention. She got away from me one time when Mrs. Trad was way down by the lakefront here at Tradition Manor and she was like black lightning running down the hill to get to her. It was amazing how fast that tiny little dog could run.
She was also an escape artist because she wanted to be by Mrs. Trad's side all the time. If we were trying to keep her in the game room or whatever, any failure to fully close the door meant that Baby would be running around the rest of the manor trying to find my wife.
Over the past year or so, old age set in really bad. She always had allergies but became so itchy that she was tearing herself up scratching all the time. We tried all sorts of drugs and steroids that helped for a little while, but she basically just became allergic to her own skin. We finally had to put her out of her misery because she was never going to just lay down and die because the only thing in the world she wanted was to lay by my wife's side and to never leave her.
Baby was a good dog.
R.I.P., Baby. 😥
We had just bought Tradition Manor when she came into our lives and we had all kinds of work to do on our new house. The last thing we needed was a dog.
I was working in the yard and Mrs. Tradition (no pics) came home from the flea market (I know, ironic) with this pathetic little dog. Must have been the runt of the litter and all her siblings were sold leaving her all alone. She said the poor thing was shivering in a cage and she just couldn't walk away. She bought an FSU collar and leash so that I'd say, "Yes, you can keep the dog." She also said I could name her so I named her, "Renegade." That lasted about 5 minutes and Mrs. Trad named her "Baby."
Anyway, that started a long journey with dogs. Baby was a "Cockalier" (a designer mutt: a cross between a Cocker Spaniel and a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel).
After we'd had her for a year or so, we bought another Cockalier, named "Buddy."
We allowed them to mate, and we did the whole puppy-breeding thing. They begat Boots, Bruiser, Lily, Peaches and Teddy.
Boots and Bruiser still live with us. Lily lives with a family friend, Peaches lives with my sister-in-law, and Teddy lives with my mother-in-law. Buddy lives with my son at his house.
We buried Baby in the back yard and had a little ceremony. She was all about Mrs. Tradition and wanted to be with her always. When she was young she could jump five feet straight into the air to get her attention. She got away from me one time when Mrs. Trad was way down by the lakefront here at Tradition Manor and she was like black lightning running down the hill to get to her. It was amazing how fast that tiny little dog could run.
She was also an escape artist because she wanted to be by Mrs. Trad's side all the time. If we were trying to keep her in the game room or whatever, any failure to fully close the door meant that Baby would be running around the rest of the manor trying to find my wife.
Over the past year or so, old age set in really bad. She always had allergies but became so itchy that she was tearing herself up scratching all the time. We tried all sorts of drugs and steroids that helped for a little while, but she basically just became allergic to her own skin. We finally had to put her out of her misery because she was never going to just lay down and die because the only thing in the world she wanted was to lay by my wife's side and to never leave her.
Baby was a good dog.
R.I.P., Baby. 😥
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