Pebbles; She Did It Her Way

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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