I was totally and utterly bamboozled...who can resist a Boxer puppy? After months of Chris begging for a Boxer and me emphatically resisting, he brought one home. She had a pointy little head and teeny, droopy ears. Bamboozled. That was the summer of 2005, and we were stationed at Ft. Knox, Kentucky. Chris was a goner right away. I remember she was super sick a couple of weeks after we got her- throwing up and such. We took her to the vet and they drew blood- Chris, the big Army officer, bawled like a baby. I did too. It's funny how such a tiny little living thing can work its way so quickly into your heart.
It's my belief that if you can survive a puppy, then you can survive a new baby. I've had both, so I can say that. Sadie was no exception. I remember her just whining and whining in her crate, and I remember pleading with Chris to just put her in our bed. "No way," he'd say, warning me of bad habits. Ironic, when I think of the countless nights a grown-up Sadie spent right between us in our king-size.
She was a wild woman from the start- bold and fearless, and willfully disobedient. Those early obedience classes were a joke, and Sadie knew it. She'd just look at us with a smirk while the Goldens and Beagles heeled and came when their owners called. She was so stinkin cute that we thought it was certainly just puppy stuff, and she'd grow out of it. Ha!
Sadie was the first and only grandchild for many, many years, and she was spoiled rotten on both sides. The grandmas especially loved her- showering her with treats and toys- there was the special kind of bone that Nana always got for Sadie at the drug store near her house, and the countless toys gifted by both grandmas, including Mimi's tire toy that made shrieking chicken noises when you rolled it. One of Sadie's favorites. Of course. And Sadie slept over at their houses. A lot. When Chris and I were on vacations, during dinner parties so that she wouldn't harass our guests, or over the holidays when Sadie traveled with us. The grandparents were all amazing with her. Patient. Understanding. Sometimes cussing her up and down. But mostly amazing.
As Sadie grew, her boldness, fearlessness, and willful disobedience grew with her. We tried multiple obedience schools and a private trainer. The results were always the same- Sadie had a mind of her own, and nobody was going to change it. Make no mistake, the issue wasn't with Sadie listening to us (well, to Chris...that girl would do ANYTHING Chris told her to do...most days she would appear to roll her eyes at me when I would ask her to do something, but she definitely listened to Chris), it was her impulsiveness that was tricky. Sadie was dog-aggressive... to the point where we couldn't even walk her because if she saw another dog, she would pull us down the street trying to reach it. After a while, we learned that this was a completely protective thing, but it was still no fun. She had to wear a yellow bandana in obedience class, as a label that she was dog-aggressive. It was like the scarlet letter. We were ashamed. But not really. Because it was Sadie, and that was her, and we resigned ourselves to keep her away from other dogs.
As she got bigger and bigger (70 pounds!) and became trickier and trickier, I will say that there were times I worried about Sadie being dangerous. Especially when I became pregnant with Avery. There were serious conversations. It was Chris who was steadfast. He always believed in Sadie. "She won't hurt the baby," he'd say, over and over, although I was skeptical. But I shouldn't have been. Because for as much of a grouchy, crazy dog as she was around other dogs, she was THAT GENTLE around our baby girl. And then around our second baby girl. Those girls loved on Sadie in ways that would have made anyone want to bite them. But she didn't. They'd poke her in the eye, the ear, and even once, the butthole (a giggling Avery went where no 2 year old had gone before). And she didn't bite them. Or growl at them. Ever. They climbed all over her. Chris would put them on her back and they'd ride on their mini-horse...Caroline was especially fond of hugging her. And Sadie obliged. Always.
As Sadie moved through her teenage years and into her old-lady years (old-lady for a Boxer, a breed that has a surprisingly short life span), Sadie became more and more ornery. There was the time she ate a mesh bag of chocolate coins out of my Christmas stocking. The bag too. And then we were on poop-watch for days. Until on the fourth day, the bag and foil emerged like a Christmas miracle. The chocolate of course, was digested.
There was the time she licked a peanut butter jar clean. And then another. And another. And another. She could get that pantry door open in ways I don't think other dogs could. Then there was the time she thought she was licking a peanut butter jar clean. But it wasn't peanut butter. It was Vaseline. A whole jar. Licked clean. The next morning, we knew something wasn't right as we walked downstairs. The tell-tale smell was strong. Very strong. I remember screaming when I saw the cream-colored family room carpet covered wall-to-wall in shiny, slick, brown poop. I swear there were sparks coming out of her butt for days. Buddy's Carpet cut us a great deal.
There was the time she ate a pound of ground coffee. It was specialty Hawaiian coffee (we called her Kona dog after that). I came home from the grocery store and the house smelled like a Starbucks. I walked upstairs and it was like Helter-Skelter up there- coffee on the walls, on the hallway floor, and wall-to-wall in the office. Buddy's Carpet to the rescue again (we eventually re-carpeted the whole house). I remember Sadie looking at me with a crazed look in her eyes as she began running in rapid circles and puking up black puddles of coffee throughout the house. Always on the carpet. Never on the hardwood (that became her motto for later puke episodes as well).
There was the time she ate a box of Bisquick. A box of Hungry Jack. A bag of flour. A sleeve of golf ball (mostly the sleeve, not the balls). 18 bags of wrapped candy. 34 large boxes of cereal. 22 loaves of bread. 87 uncooked crescent rolls ready to go into the oven. 9 shoes (only 1 of a pair, each time). 29 granola bars. 3 sheets of third grade homework. 114 packets of oatmeal. 12 Power Bars (more crazy eyes). 23 Fiber One bars (more butt sparks). These numbers are approximate.
There was the time Sadie bounded through the front door to lick a trick-or-treater and knocked him over (eeek). And the time she knocked the screen out of our front window trying to eat the pizza guy. And the time she was trying to protect us from a Yorkie on the sidewalk and the broke the glass in our bedroom window to send a message to the Yorkie. She was a barker. A big barker. A ferocious-sounding barker. I'm grateful to her for all of the solicitors she kept away from our door over the years.
Beyond interacting with our girls, Sadie never did anything in a laid-back way. She was balls-to-the-wall in everything she did. Every single day, Chris would come home from work and wrestle with her. On the floor. She loved it. And Chris would be covered in welts. Every day. Because Chris is allergic to dogs. But she was worth it. Avery and Sadie would play flashlight tag all the time- Avery would shine the light on the ceiling, and Sadie would leap off of the floor, trying to catch it. We have divets in our wood floor from Sadie running through our house on the hardwood and skidding to a stop. But she was worth it. We have a huge backyard, and Sadie loved it. It's one of the reasons we bought this house. For the yard. For her. She would get out there and begin to run in circles. Around the whole backyard. Head down, ears back, feet flying. Around and around. Avery and Caroline would cackle watching her. And we would too. When another dog would come out, Sadie would storm the fence. Especially if we were outside. We knew it was her protecting us. We just hoped she never made it over the fence. Lots of apologizing from the Lazutas to their neighbors over the years. But she was worth it.
In recent years, Chris began to travel for work. A lot. Sadie became my guard dog and my nightly companion. After the girls would go to bed, Sadie would dutifully follow me upstairs and take her post on the bed (usually 1 or both girls would be in there with us). She'd keep my feet warm, and I always felt safe listening to her noisy snoring and night farts (a Boxer specialty). I'll miss that. Not the farts so much, but her presence. There's a big void here without it.
Sadie got sick a couple of weeks ago. One day she came in from outside swaying a bit. Her eyes were rolling back in her head and she couldn't focus on me. She wouldn't eat and she was drooling all over the place. Chris came home from work early and took her to the vet. They couldn't find anything wrong. The next day, she was no better. She was worse. He took her back and they still couldn't find anything visibly wrong- they put her on antibiotics in case she had an ear infection. A week later, our poor girl was deteriorating fast. Back humped up, limping, drooling constantly, and no control of her bladder, Sadie wasn't herself. She couldn't even muster a bark. Not even when the pizza guy rang the doorbell. She yelped when she got up, and when you tried to pet her. It was awful. Beyond awful. When we took her back to the vet for the final time, we knew that she wouldn't ever get better. The vet thought that it was probably a spinal tumor. One of the very hardest things I've ever had to do.
Sadie wasn't an easy dog. She wasn't always sweet, or obedient, or quiet. But she sure was beautiful. And funny. And spirited. And stubborn. And hungry. And protective. And loyal...boy was she loyal. Although we got Sadie together when she was so small, she was really Chris' dog. I always said that he loved that dog more than me, and of course that's not true (maybe), but I do think she was his soulmate, in the way that only an animal can be. They were kindred spirits, and he is lost without her. I read a book to Avery this week called Dog Heaven (thank you, Jill Requejo). Cynthia Rylant wrote quite the tearjerker about a heaven where dogs eat ham-sandwich and ice cream treats, and are never without hugs and soft clouds to sleep on. She says that dogs become angels, and come back to Earth whenever they need to check on their people. I have to believe that Sadie will do just that for her Chris. And I have to believe that she'll be waiting for him to get there too, so that they can wrestle. On the floor. And Chris will probably get welts, even in Heaven. But that's okay. She's worth it.
We will miss you, Sadie girl. Thanks for teaching us about unconditional love, and for making all of our lives better with your one-of-a-kind self.
Sadie Lazuta
7-5-05-------9-20-14
