sweet~nichole~marie
Tallulah's Mama
Today we said good-bye to our yellow lab, Klondyke. He was almost 13 years old. I thought I would have more time with him, but his body decided otherwise. Cancer . . . the aggressive kind, the invasive-in-the-blood-vessels-systemic kind, the kind that does not care he was my baby.
I got Klondyke when he was 3 months old. I was in college in California and he was my first dog that was truly my own. He went every where with me. Onto campus, around town, on errands, to the beach. We were rarely apart for more than 2-3 hours.
I remember going to work one day and seeing a woman walking her old, old lab along the road and I started crying, thinking that would be him some day. When I got to work my co-workers said "But Nichole, he is only 5 months old. You will have him for a long time." Not long enough . . .
Klondyke was very food motivated . . . you could teach him anything if you had a cookie in your hand. Roll over? Piece of cake (especially if he got to eat it). Speak? No problem, now he was able to tell me to give him the cookie. Climb up on the counter to get the leftovers when you are gone? Not a problem for this wonder-mutt.
When he was younger I used to do agility with him. He learned the weave poles in one night. Like I said, that dog would do anything for a cookie.
Unfortunately, he never knew when to stop eating. He put himself into the emergency room several times by getting into food he shouldn't have. One time he ate a pound of uncooked rice. You would think it wouldn't be very appealing, but he thought he would try it. Another time he ate 10 lbs of dog food at my sister's house (silly me, I forgot to warn her not to leave a bag of food in the hallway). He would steal tupperware containers in the hopes there would be food in them and had been known to eat orange scented Clorox wipes because he thought they were food. He was an awesome dog.
He was so mellow and so loving. Babies (of the human and furry kind) could climb all over him and one of our cats used to sleep on his back. He didn't mind. At the dog park he wasn't that interested in hanging out with the other dogs - he would rather make the rounds and greet all the people, spreading a little bit of the Klondyke love. He was the type of dog who was always wagging his tail (which should have been registered as a lethal weapon) and looked like he was smiling.
As a baby he would sneak into the bathroom, grab the toilet paper end, and run with it through the house. He also went crazy if you said anything about going for a ride in the car. He loved to go anywhere, as long as it meant he got to be with you. And oh how he loved the beach. As soon as we got close enough that he could smell the salt air, he was sticking his nose out the window, taking big deep breaths. He would chase a ball for hours into the waves and never cared he got a mouth full of sand.
And being a lab, he had to get into any mud puddle, stream, creek, pond, or river that we came across.
His nickname was Puppy, because he never really grew up. He only started to act like an adult when arthritis set in and even then, it wasn't really his choice.
I love you, Klondyke. I know that you are not in pain anymore, and running on the beach again, but there is a ache in my heart that I am not sure will ever truly go away. You will be in my heart and thoughts always.
Look at that handsome, noble profile . . .
His sister loved him so
He just wanted a tummy rubbin' but that dang fuzzy gerbil insisted on kissing him
I got Klondyke when he was 3 months old. I was in college in California and he was my first dog that was truly my own. He went every where with me. Onto campus, around town, on errands, to the beach. We were rarely apart for more than 2-3 hours.
I remember going to work one day and seeing a woman walking her old, old lab along the road and I started crying, thinking that would be him some day. When I got to work my co-workers said "But Nichole, he is only 5 months old. You will have him for a long time." Not long enough . . .
Klondyke was very food motivated . . . you could teach him anything if you had a cookie in your hand. Roll over? Piece of cake (especially if he got to eat it). Speak? No problem, now he was able to tell me to give him the cookie. Climb up on the counter to get the leftovers when you are gone? Not a problem for this wonder-mutt.
When he was younger I used to do agility with him. He learned the weave poles in one night. Like I said, that dog would do anything for a cookie.
Unfortunately, he never knew when to stop eating. He put himself into the emergency room several times by getting into food he shouldn't have. One time he ate a pound of uncooked rice. You would think it wouldn't be very appealing, but he thought he would try it. Another time he ate 10 lbs of dog food at my sister's house (silly me, I forgot to warn her not to leave a bag of food in the hallway). He would steal tupperware containers in the hopes there would be food in them and had been known to eat orange scented Clorox wipes because he thought they were food. He was an awesome dog.
He was so mellow and so loving. Babies (of the human and furry kind) could climb all over him and one of our cats used to sleep on his back. He didn't mind. At the dog park he wasn't that interested in hanging out with the other dogs - he would rather make the rounds and greet all the people, spreading a little bit of the Klondyke love. He was the type of dog who was always wagging his tail (which should have been registered as a lethal weapon) and looked like he was smiling.
As a baby he would sneak into the bathroom, grab the toilet paper end, and run with it through the house. He also went crazy if you said anything about going for a ride in the car. He loved to go anywhere, as long as it meant he got to be with you. And oh how he loved the beach. As soon as we got close enough that he could smell the salt air, he was sticking his nose out the window, taking big deep breaths. He would chase a ball for hours into the waves and never cared he got a mouth full of sand.
And being a lab, he had to get into any mud puddle, stream, creek, pond, or river that we came across.
His nickname was Puppy, because he never really grew up. He only started to act like an adult when arthritis set in and even then, it wasn't really his choice.
I love you, Klondyke. I know that you are not in pain anymore, and running on the beach again, but there is a ache in my heart that I am not sure will ever truly go away. You will be in my heart and thoughts always.
Look at that handsome, noble profile . . .
His sister loved him so
He just wanted a tummy rubbin' but that dang fuzzy gerbil insisted on kissing him
