She Did It Her
Way
June 27, 2011
(Huntington Beach, CA)
Rochelle’s Ruby Pebble died just after midnight on June 25,
2011. She was nine years old. Although she left a huge hole in our
lives, Pebbles left this world like she lived most of her life; on her own
terms.
One hears similar stories about people or animals having a
perfect day before passing away.
Pebbles’ last day couldn’t have been better. I usually get home at about 5:30 in the morning. Pebbles would usually open her eyes a
crack, wag her stumpy tail ever so slightly before going back to sleep. I would try, mostly unsuccessfully, to
get her to come with Maxine and me on our early morning walk.
This day, I heard her walking down the porcelain tile
hallway towards me. I knew it was
Pebby, because she always dragged her front paws when she walked. The two middle claws on each paw were
always worn down. She wasn’t much
for vanity, like her mother. You
couldn’t touch Rochelle’s beautiful, long black nails. Pebbles was more into athletic endeavors
or obsessing about a water bottle or conning one out of a piece of people food.
Pebbles was the first one out the front door and couldn’t
wait to get out in the cool, pre-dawn breeze. Diane and I had cut way back on her physical activities the
past two years because we almost lost her at least two times to an unfortunate
hereditary breathing problem in English Bulldogs.
Even though bulldogs have short snouts, their soft palate
tissue in the back of their mouths continues to grow, which made breathing hard
for her.
During our walk, I noticed Pebbles had that old spring in
her quick steps, keeping up with her much younger bulldog buddy Maxine. In the past few months, Pebbles may
have suffered some small strokes, leaving her dazed, slow and sleepy. But not this day.
Pebbles was the Alpha dog from early on, overwhelming her
mother, Rocky, when Pebbles decided it was her time to rule. She was never mean, but it had to be
done her way. She was never one to
cuddle, but you had better submit to a butt scratch or belly rub upon request.
She was born into a champion bloodline with seven brothers
and sisters on November 6, 2001 to the ravishing Rochelle from South Africa and
Beau, a handsome champion stud from Riverside at Dr. Butchko’s clinic in West
Riverside, California. Pebbles was
a female clone of her daddy.
Beau’s owner, Charlie, was disappointed Diane didn’t have Pebbles
trained for dog shows. It would
have been fun to see how she stacked up against a ring of her peer pooches, but
Pebbles was just as happy trotting from house to house visiting her friends,
singing Happy Birthday and dressing up on holidays, especially Halloween.
One year, she tolerated us dressing her up in Christmas garb
for a card picture, knowing there was a cookie at the end of the photo
shoot. She fell in love with her
bumble bee costume the following Halloween. She loved it so much, she ran two doors down to show her
‘boyfriend’, our neighbor John.
She also enjoyed her appearances at Dr. Alexson’s annual Halloween Extravaganza,
where she always brightened up cancer patients receiving their chemo therapy
treatments.
Being a true girl, Pebbles also loved to shop for
accessories. Her favorite car
rides were to the pet shops, where she would check out every low lying food dish
for leftovers, then hit the toy section.
She especially loved the sale box at her favorite store, Animalia. The toy she usually picked out involved
a game of tug-of-war in the check out line.
Always up for a game of catch, soccer, keep-away or tearing
up boxes, branches or water bottles, Pebbles was a great mom and gentle baby
sitter for her human kids.
Even though her torso was shorter than most females, Pebbles
had two tough pregnancies, giving birth to six bouncing baby bulldogs each
time. She was always on guard,
ready for feeding and cleaning her puppies when they called her every two
hours.
During her second litter, Pebbles’ milk went bad eleven days
after their birth. The worst
thing, besides almost losing the litter to tummy infections, was having to keep
Pebby away from her puppies. She
didn’t understand, but somehow knew we were caring for her kids, just not as
good as she would.
When our daughter, Cassi, had her first baby Makaylyn,
Pebbles was very curious of this human ‘puppy’. As Makaylyn began to walk, Pebby would follow her, picking
up crumbs dropped along the way.
Pebbles taught Makaylyn to play a game with wooden puzzle pieces. Makaylyn would hand a puzzle piece to
Pebbles, who would gently take it in between her front teeth, set it down and
wait for Makaylyn to repeat the game.
It was one of the only times both had played quietly since.
Our son Dusty’s first daughter, Katheryn, was the only
person that Pebbles would cuddle with.
It probably didn’t hurt that Katheryn usually had a snack nearby.
She learned at a very early age that being bad can also be
cute. Diane tells a story of eight
curious one month old puppies that just had to break through a baby gate to see
what that shiny Christmas tree and presents were all about.
When sugarplums were dancing through human heads, they
somehow got through a corner of the gate, then bounded, tripped and stumbled
their way across the wood floor to the wonderfully noisy wrapping paper and
ornaments adorning the beautiful tree.
The noise woke up Diane, who must have loudly made her
displeasure known while stomping around the corner into the living room. She heard the skittering of little
puppy paws on the wood floor, and saw the aftermath of the puppy pillage under
the Christmas tree. She found all
eight puppies back on their side of the gate, innocently looking up at their
human mom from their blanket with those big, brown puppy eyes. All Diane could do was laugh.
When you met Pebbles, you became her instant friend. She would greet you with an excited
body shake along with a ball in her mouth that she would drop for you to toss
back to her.
If she went to your house, Pebbles would remember exactly
where the good stuff was and sit in that spot every return visit. She knew when an empty plastic bottle
was left on a counter or table.
She would sit and stare at that damn bottle until someone would
acknowledge its presence.
Despite the fact that Bulldogs can’t swim, Pebbles did, with
a running start. We got her a
bright orange life jacket that kept her afloat enough so that she looked like
an orange Monitor seeking out the Merrimack in the Battle of Hampton Roads as
she navigated the harbor.
After a hearty swim in the harbor, she would sit in between
Diane and me for a ride in our kayak, looking more like Cleopatra on the Nile,
while barking out greetings to her subjects along the banks.
She had a great appetite for her dinner that night, served
al fresco on her new food bowl riser, painted to match the outside of our
house.
Pebbles, Maxine and I played after dinner. Pebbles had her new colorful, squishy
foam ball, playing catch and keep away.
While waiting for ‘Mumsy’ to come home from work, Pebbles
and I played tug-of-war and catch with that now soggy foam ball. She loved to knock the ball or toy she
was playing with underneath a piece of furniture. If it wasn’t immediately retrieved by one of her humans, she
would loudly protest until she got her toy back.
When Diane came home just after 11:30, Pebbles ran to the
garage, followed by Maxine. They
both attacked their traffic cone there, after greeting their Mumsy.
After two spirited rounds, we all retired into the
house. Pebbles went to lay down
near her bed that is next to ours.
Not unusual to rest after a good workout.
Maxine had scratched open up a sore on her neck that got
blood on her, some blankets and the bedroom carpet.
Diane and I turned our attention to Max, who’s been through
the ringer. She had radical knee
surgery on her back right leg, where two bad staph infections grew. Then, the “Cone of Shame” irritated her
neck, and another nasty staph grew like a goiter.
Diane checked on Pebbles, who looked back at Diane and
seemed okay.
After Max got cleaned up, Diane went to watch TV in the
living room. I went back into the
bedroom to turn down the bed, talking to Pebbles and expected a knowing
look. She never raised her head.
Pebbles left us as suddenly as she chased a cat. We were blessed to have her in our
lives for over nine years. If I
learned anything from Pebby, it was to live life to the fullest, on your terms
and get a good nap or two in.
That’s the way Pebbles lived. She did it her way.
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