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| So many tears shed. There is no comfort in finding solace in one another’s sorrow, but being able to share pain is healing. I would just like to share some of my joys in owning Tuppy, the dog who made a boxer person out of me. Of course, I could never have been a boxer person if it weren’t for Armando Miro. I lived in St. Thomas. There are no fences in St. Thomas-not even for goats. I made phone call upon phone call and was finally given Miro’s number. I think when I flew up to meet Tuppy, Miro realized there were some things more important than fences. I like to take that into consideration when I meet prospective owners, too. So that’s how a Nobody happened to own this plain, but gorgeous champion-bred Traper daughter. From the day she arrived on St. Thomas, Tuppy knew her boundaries. She would sit, head cocked, center driveway, watching the car go off in the morning. When we came home, there she sat, head cocked, center driveway, waiting. When we moved to Maryland the split rail just blocked her view; but she would sit, head cocked, in the yard, watching the car go off in the morning and when we came home, there she sat waiting. As soon as she saw the car, she would jump for a better view -- six feet up, all four feet in the air--never over, just up. Tuppy, the famous jumping dog--How great she would have been at agility! She never knew fences were for jumping until a 6-month old pup from her first litter whispered in her ear (obviously the ‘instinct for jumping gene’ came from the father.) She was a wonderful mother (considerate, too -- all her pups were born during daylight hours). She was never a champion to the AKC, only to me. She was never a dam of merit, although we did try. Fate is not kind. Nor are the ravages of old age, the dimming of the spirit, the weakness of the body, the failing function of its organs. Nothing seemed to be working anymore, and then her tail stopped wagging. For days I fought the heart/head battle, then I held her tight and let her go. She will always be remembered as Tuppy, the famous jumping dog who made this mere mortal a boxer person. | ||
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aka: Tuppy June 17, 1986-October 21, 1999 |
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| God stopped by our house
on Saturday. He came Himself. He didn’t send an angel. I had told him Shazam
wasn’t well and that I didn’t feel strong enough to make that final decision
for him. God made the decision for me and took Shazam home with him. I
wish they’d waited until I got home, but that wasn’t meant to be. He needed
his wings as there was no strength left to use his legs. I knew that morning
when he cried for the first time in these miserable last three weeks that
it wasn’t pain but sheer frustration at not being able to move. He raised
his head to greet me good morning and he hungrily took his breakfast from
my hand. He looked at me and said how much he wished he could go to the
show, but he had to stay home because he had a date with God. They left
just before I got back.
Shazam was pointed at the National Capital KC show 4th of July weekend 1991. He finished that October with limited showing and four majors, three of them Specialty BOW’s. He was my first Champion. Who could have known then how difficult this show business could be? We loved each other unconditionally. There is a big empty spot in my heart and it hurts so much. I wish you all could have had the opportunity to see him at ABC 2001. The performance that placed him second to Biff in the ten and over Veterans (they were both 11) was truly Oscar material. I will treasure that tape forever. Do please be aware that grade 2 mast cells may not kill, but they do cause things that do. We had a small tumor removed from Shazam’s neck last December. He has been taking the recommended prednisone/benedryl treatment since; but in April we noticed small lumps forming along the incision line. We opted not to put him through further surgery. On June 13, he started to pass blood both orally and rectally. We were told he had ulcers, a complication of the tumors. The tumors would have to go before the ulcers could be gone. Three months of Chemo? We opted not. He had a double transfusion on the 21st which he’d used up by the following week. He had medication for the ulcers; medication to coat his intestines; medication for diarrhea; medication for nausea; but the inevitable was not to be postponed. Ultimately, he bled to death. If his death causes you to ask the right question at the right time, his life will have new meaning. |
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aka: Shazam May 13, 1990 – July 6, 2002 |
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| The puppy of my dreams,
who at three months of age was Best in Match with an entry of over 100
at the Cincinnati Boxer Club’s grand event at ABC, 2005. Who, at
just under 6 months took a Group 1 at an all-breed match in Salem, VA.
Who, before she was 18 months, had collected all her minor points, as well
as a Potomac Boxer Club Grand Sweeps and a New Jersey Boxer Club Best Puppy.
Who was just coming into her prime, ready to catch her illusive majors
when she presented with lymphoma the day before New Year’s Eve; diagnosis
confirmed January 5. My beautiful Dandee, the darkest of brindles
with the blondest of attitudes was taken by the angels as she slept Saturday
night.
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aka: Danny February 6, 2005 March 3, 2007 |
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| My handsome Raist, the family favorite from his moment of birth. The dog we loved so much that when his show career was at an end, we placed in one of those outstanding homes one happens upon from time to time. He had the time of his life for four short years living with his daughter, Martha, and his boy child, Doc. He was a great ambassador for the breed, and he now lives forever on a hill overlooking his farm. He would have been 9 on September 1st. He hadn't been able to keep any food down for about a week; blood work normal; nothing on x-ray; ultra sound showed his stomach invaded by a tumor. Raist was a great giver of memories. One day he and Martha were hanging out with their boy child and his father when a large dog appeared out of the neighboring woods and attacked Martha. Dad couldn't separate them, so Raist felt obliged to assist by body slamming the attacker with his shoulder in a mid-air collision. Before the invader could catch its breath, he was picked up by the scruff of the neck and slammed into a tree. Now unconscious, Raist considered finishing off the enemy, but Dad said that was enough, so he went back to his spot in the shade. Oh well, Dad, I guess you can take it from here. Such a gentleman! Raist, may you live forever in all the fond memories of those whose lives you’ve touched. | ||
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aka: Raist September 1, 1998 ~ July 5, 2007 |
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