Tuesday, September 9, 2008


Back many moons ago, when I was just starting college, my mom was helping my dad move a ladder.
The ladder slipped, and my mom's hand was caught between the rungs and the extension, shattering her 5th metacarpal into many bits which the surgeon couldn't find.
Her job as an EMT-Intermediate stopped.
Her way of life had stopped.
Both her kids were now in college
And she was literally hanging around in a sling with two nails sticking out of her hand, trying to get the bones to mend.
Needless to say, she got bored.
So for an early Christmas present, we decided to get her a dog.
An English Setter named Bart, who had already had 2 homes, one of which had little kids that would pull his tail and ears, and generally get in his face.
He didn't like that, so he went back to the breeder.
He went to a little old lady's house, where he promptly jumped up on the counter, and devoured her pot roast.
She didn't like that, so he went back to the breeder.
At 6 months old, he had been rejected twice, and needed some extra love and care.
This is what we got.

Quite the little prince.
And the ball was HIS.
And they had fun together, going for walks, playing "Stalk", he would run in and jump on my bed in the morning, and just a wonderful easy going animal.
He had the bladder the size of a teacup, but that was a genetic fault, and nothing that could be prevented.
Bart would always go for a ride when asked, and he knew when it was time to get me at school, because my mom would ask him if he wanted to go "get "
When I moved out of my parents house, I didn't go there to visit my parents. Nope, I went to visit Bart.
He was a huge part of my life.
A few years ago, he was having some trouble urinating, and my mother took him to the vet, where they discovered his bladder was full of stones.
He had surgery to repair it.
It was fine for a while, but my father went to a weekend event, and my mom noticed Bart having trouble urinating again.
He was whimpering when he tried to urinate.
Long and short of it, Bart's bladder ruptured, and could not be repaired.
He was put down on September 10, 2007. I miss him very, very much.
This is the dog my parents bought to "replace" Bart. His name is Isaac.

He's cute, full of piss and vinegar, but is in no way, shape, or form, Bart.
If there's a heaven, I hope that Bart is there, chasing balls and pointing turkeys that are already stuffed, basted, and fully cooked.
I miss you, Mookie.