She was part Border Collie and part White-Tailed Deer. With her high hips and pointy nose she might have passed for a Greyhound was she not so big in the body.
She welcomed all visitors with a high pitched "URRROOOOOOOOOOO," a strange growl that sounded more like a moan.
Determined de-stuffer of all things fluffy she would make quick work of any toy that SantaPaws brought her way. Needle-Nose, as she was affectionately named by my uncle, she was voted most likely to spill your drink by tipping your elbow with her snout. She would smother you in doggie licks if you let her.
She could run like the wind and jump like a gazelle. We named her Jersey in tribute to the home state of the Monkey Maker. She was our first joint enterprise. We loved her so much.
In the early days before there were Monkey's, there was just me, my love and "The Furr." A family of three.
We would lie on the floor of our small warehouse apartment and daydream about our future. She would snooze peacefully between us, not a care in the world.
Back then the nights were late and the mornings long and lazy. Most weekends were spent laying around and watching "House Rules" (the original Do-It-Yourself reality show) eating Doritos at 8AM and dreaming someday of owning our own home to fill with kids and furry friends for our Jers.
And we did.
The years passed and the Monkey's came. First one, then two, then three. Through it all she was faithful, loyal and loving. She was so patient and kind to the Monkey's as they grew. Even in her last days, she wanted only to be with us where we were attempting to climb stairs that her poor worthless legs wouldn't allow her to climb.
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Driving home from the appointment, my car is quiet and I am alone. She is gone. I have cried all of my tears. I left them all in the little room. Tiny splashes on the floor, drops of sorrow. I am left with only memories.
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Driving home from the appointment, my car is quiet and I am alone. She is gone. I have cried all of my tears. I left them all in the little room. Tiny splashes on the floor, drops of sorrow. I am left with only memories.
I think back to a Christmas Eve many moons ago. Snuggled under blankets on the floor, bathed in the gentle glow of the lights on the tree, the Monkey Maker turned to me with tears in his eyes.
"Someday she won't be with us on Christmas eve." He said to me softly, his sadness born in the realization that by allowing himself to love something so much, he had opened himself up to the loss that always comes with it. That's the trouble with love.
"Someday she won't be with us on Christmas eve." He said to me softly, his sadness born in the realization that by allowing himself to love something so much, he had opened himself up to the loss that always comes with it. That's the trouble with love.
We love you, Fuzz. I know where you are going there will be great fields of tall grass to run through.
I will never forget the smell of your feet. (still one of my favorite smells)
I will never forget the soft fur behind your ears.
I will never forget the sound of your hello, demanding a greeting and some biscuits.
I will never forget your gentle brown eyes.
I will never forget you, Blackula.
Love you forever.
