Yesterday Dan and I went to visit a litter of new five week old Corgi puppies and spent two hours playing with four baby pups and five or six grown Corgis. It was so wonderful. As we drove home I was remembering when my family got Little Bit. She was one of the puppies from my horse barn's Jack Russel's first litter. She was born during a horse show in one of the stalls. I remember peeking into the stall between classes. They named her Little Bit because she was all white with only one little brown spot on her face. We took Little Bit home to, "just try it out." She never left. A couple years later the barn's Jack had another litter and we got Pansy, Little Bit's younger sister. We lost Pansy a few years ago after she got Glaucoma. On Saturday my parents made the decision to put down Little Bit. It was strange to have just returned from playing with brand new puppies, and been remembering Little Bit in her young years, to find out that she was gone. She was one of the best dogs I'll probably ever know. Athletic, brilliant, happy. She came with me on my trip around the country and got to run around the edge of the Grand Canyon, boat with me on Lake Mead, run along the Atlantic on Tybee Island's beaches. Little Bit. Bitsy Doodle. Doodle Dog. Little Doodle. LB. She loved playing with her blue ball. We couldn't say "ball" without her ears perking up and getting excited, so we started referring to them as blue "spheres". You could throw that ball endlessly. If you didn't stop, she'd probably have run herself to death. Her ears never did fold the right way. When you threw the ball into fresh, deep snow, she's chase after it bounding through the deep snow like a gazelle, burying her nose into the snow, snorting away the snow until she found it and ran back to you with a faceful of snow, but triumphant. She loved being involved and would insist on riding in the front seat, regardless of what mode of transportation. Snowmachine? Perched in front, paws on the handles. JetSki? Same. Car? Driver's side shoved between my dad and the side window. That window was covered with wet nose marks. She even wanted to be in the front seat when we flew, but we forced her to sit on the copilot's lap. Canadian Geese used to come every year and poop all over our yard and if we said, "Geese!" LB would run down, barking, and shoo them away.
It's amazing to me how much companionship a little dog can provide. They come to you when you are crying and nuzzle their way into your arms. They have a constant smile on their faces. They love you so much they can't help but come up and lick your face. I love that there are programs that bring dogs to hospitals to soothe patients, because I can't think of anything more healing than petting a happy dog. I am sad that Bitsy is gone, but glad that she is no longer suffering. And though it is sad to see a companion pass away, I do hope that Dan and I get to bring home a dogfriend someday soon.
