Mabel. The- Most- Annoying- Creature- On- The- Planet. Anyone who’s ever been around her can attest to this description. Don’t try to top me with a comment about a pet you have or once had. You won’t win. Her smell, her howls, her bays… her farts, Mabel truly fits that saying “only a mother could love.”
She is our second child. Our first, Broni (the cat) was rescued from the pound. Mabel, on the other hand, was bought from a breeder- 100%, AKC, purebred basset lovin. A year of researching on the internet, scouring over books at Borders, taking hundred’s of those “perfect pet for you quizzes” I deducted then convinced Jeff that “Yes. I’m sure” a basset hound will be an ideal addition to our family.
When my kiddos come to the library they love to hear “Mabel stories” “Tell us another one Mrs. Grimes….. ppplllleeeeeaaaasssee!!!!” “What did she do this time?!?!” “When are you going to bring her to the library?" "Come on Mrs. Grimes… we wanna meet her!!!"
I’ve promised myself and many other folks that one day I’ll write a children’s book about Mabel. I’ll title it something cheesy like “The dog with 9 lives” because really that’s the only title I’ve ever been able to come up with. Mabel has had more than 9 lives… by my count she’s working on 15 or 16.
When she was 8 weeks old she ate a container of rat poison while visiting at my parents’ farm- an unforgettable 4th of July as we “shut the party down” to rush her to the “E.R.” Or who in my family can forget that Christmas Eve- the one when she somehow managed to climb up and onto the stove and knock over Mom’s special gorilla bread that was to be served for a delicious Christmas morning breakfast. We found her hours after the crime… lying under the Christmas tree with the empty pan, belly bloated and a grin on her sneaky, sleeping face. The next Christmas no one even batted an eye when we came home to find a pile of glass bulbs half eaten and Mabel splayed out on the rug. There was that time she got her head stuck between those porch rails in Huntington, the summer she got loose at Mom and Dad’s and was attacked by the “Curry dogs.” I think it was during that same week we found her walking up 152 carrying half a pizza in her mouth… her own little Gino’s pizza excursion. And these are just the events that took place during her younger years. I haven’t even touched upon the shenanigans of the past 10 years, although many of you will recall from my Face book postings -the most tragic to date - the “Window Well tragedy” which occurred this summer.
Five years ago I came home from work to find Mabel “stuck” in our bed. She was crying and frantic and hitting her head against the wall. Just as I had chocked up Saul’s symptoms to teething- I rationalized Mabel’s behavior, hoisting her to the floor- blowing her off – and mumbling one of the ten thousand phrases I often use with her “crazy animal, annoying creature, stupid dog.” When she wouldn’t stop crying I quickly realized… something was just not right.
It took an emergency trip to Cincinnati and an appointment with a dog optometrist (and I won’t even tell you how much money later) to give us the diagnosis of glaucoma and the news that her eyeball had to be removed.
I’ll never forget the optometrist “breaking the news” then escorting us to a room where we could view our options of prosthetic eyeballs. I wish we’d had iPhones back then Jeff and I could have gotten some really great profile pics. I would have named the album “eyeball outtakes.” When given the 1500 dollar price tag we kindly agreed to have our local vet do the extraction for a mere 250. And opted for the less cheaper route of “just sew the sucker up.”
When the first eye was removed I was okay with it. Mom made her an eye patch and we all joked about the upcoming Halloween costume… “Do you think I could get her into some pet contests? With that eye patch and pirate hat she’d win for sure!”
When I found her in the same sad state – banging her head, disoriented and crying, 4 months later the jokes stopped and the tears came. I knew the minute I saw here what the prognosis would be. I knew once again we’d be dealing with another surgery and recovery… this time however things would be different. She’d be totally blind.
I look back on that time period and it’s as if it’s solidified in my mind. Like re-watching that scene from Steel Magnolias - the one that gets you every time- I can re-live in an instant my emotions, my conversations and my thoughts. I had just suffered a devastating miscarriage days before that had left me physically, mentally and emotionally crippled. Truly, when looking back, the only two things that got me through that paralyzing time was an episode of Oprah I’d watched (you scoff- don’t laugh… and don’t worry… I’m saving that story for a later post) and the constant love from Mabel, Daisy and Broni. I remember crying on the phone to Mom and Dad whose advice was to “put her down” weeping and hysterical I replied … “I. just. can’t. do. It.”
When Jeff got home late that night and I broke the news to him he responded in typical Jeff form. “Courtney. Seriously? Seriously? This is not a big deal. We’ll hook Daisy too her… she’ll be her seeing eye dog. We’ll just carry a yardstick all the time” We’ll just never move the furniture…” I’ll stop here cause I’m sure you get my drift.
I’d like to think that if I can instill a characteristic within my children (and that includes the ones with fur and four legs) resiliency would be the one I’d most like them to posses. Resiliency. The ability to “bounce back.” Resiliency. The ability to “move on.” Resiliency. The ability to look directly in the face of the obstacles and hurdles of daily life and with confidence reply “ Yo. This aint no thang.”
P.S. If you think Mabel’s loss of sight has made her any different than before you’re wrong. She’s still the same smelly, barking, adventure-seeking, trouble –causing, annoying dog we all love.
awww, she is beautiful! We have a male basset. I can totally relate to the stink and "stupid" dog. LOL
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