Broken Hearted
I had planned on returning to this blog with some happier tales...
Oscar was hit by a car last week. He didn't make it.
He was my constant companion at home. It took me weeks to get used to having a dog-shaped shadow follow me around the house, but once I was, I couldn't have asked for a more loving friend. He fit perfectly into any crook around my body when I watched TV or lay in bed. He lovingly shared his toys, and he perfected the doggie hug--straddling his hind legs around my waist while resting his front paws and head on my shoulder. I can still remember exactly what it feels like to hold him, to imagine him just on the other side of the room watching me, and to see him toss his toy in the air and prance around after it.
Outside, Oscar was hardly matched for speed, and would run around whether there was another dog at the park or not. He was dog-curious, and could usually get most any dog to chase him around the park; he even adjusted his speed for those who weren't as nimble-pawed as he was. He did, however, have one of the most annoying barks imaginable: a high pitched bark/howl hybrid that could last up to five seconds, often with successive vocalizations and at nothing in particular. I grew used to it though, and just told people that he had a lot he needed to say.
He was not without his quirks. I think that many other owners would have given up on Oscar, and they would have missed out on one of the sweetest creatures around. He was afraid of brooms, vacuum cleaners, Christmas trees, people wearing hats, trash piles and shopping carts. Loud noises made him shake and claw at my leg to be held. His separation anxiety elicited deep feelings of guilt from me and David, and his high pitched yaps of protestation at being left behind got us in trouble with the neighbors more than once. His wide eyes belied all the anxiety he had pent up, whether it was from his rough start at the shelter and prior, or just his disposition. But all of this was wiped clean when we saw his dog-smile as he ran around the park, or when he sighed in contentment as he curled up with us at night.
Oscar was a part of our lives for such a short amount of time, and I'm amazed at how deeply attached we became during that time. He truly was a family member. We were proud of his characteristics, and took every opportunity to boast of him. He was a one-of-a-kind, irreplaceable mutt. I miss him so much.
