Growing up, my mom would not allow pets inside the house. I remember when I was about six or seven years old begging for a cute little part poodle puppy. Mom allowed us to bring her home, but Snowball always stayed outside.
I grew up. Life moved on and I never had a desire to have another dog.
In 1997, a co-worker was going out of town for the weekend and didn’t have a sitter for her Pomeranian. I reluctantly agreed to keep the dog.
This cute little ball of fur followed me where ever I went, cuddled with me on the sofa and slept in my dirty clothes basket when I left her at home alone. I did not want to give her back when her parents came home from their weekend get away.
I remember sharing my experience with another friend during a telephone conversation. She tried to convince me that I should get a dog. When the call ended, I was still not convinced.
Several months later, in February 1998, I visited the friend with whom I had the telephone conversation. We were out and about on Saturday afternoon and she stated that we were going to stop by another friend’s house. I was okay with stopping by, no big deal. However, the next words out of her mouth were, “We decided you were going to take a dog home today”. I remember thinking, “Don’t hold your breath”.
We arrived at the friend’s house and I learned that she and her mom raised Pomeranians. Her mom had brought about six dogs for me to see.
Keep in mind that these six dogs were not kept in the house. They were kept in a barn – in kennels. They had not been bathed or brushed. They smelled.
Ugh.
Because I didn’t want to be rude, I finally sat down in the floor to take a better look. I still had no intention of taking one of these dogs home with me.
I think most of the dogs weighed between six and eight pounds. They were hyper. They were running around everywhere.
There was one exception. She was red in color and the smallest of the bunch, weighing about four pounds. She was calm and she was the one that kept coming to me. She was about 3 ½ years old. The name on her registration certificate was Prissy Pepper. They called her Sassy Britches.
When it was apparent that I would not be walking out the door without choosing a dog, I choose Miss Prissy Pepper aka Miss Sassy Britches.
I knew that I could not call this dog Prissy Pepper and for sure I would not be calling her Sassy Britches. On the two hour drive home, I changed her name to Sophie.
Thus our journey began.
I decided to keep her in a crate. She was going to stay in the crate while I was at work and sleep in the crate. This lasted all of two minutes. Before I knew what was happening, she had the run of the house and slept in the middle of my bed.
In no time at all, I fell in love with Sophie. She was a five pound bundle of joy. She became my constant companion.
I had been told that she was paper trained. Everything I read about paper trained dogs stated they would go near the paper and think that was good enough. That is what she did. When I would shake my finger at her and tell that was not what she was supposed to do, she would turn her nose and look in the opposite direction. Eventually she learned to do her business outside.
In the beginning she loved to jump up on the sofa, the chairs and the bed; but she was scared to walk on kitchen floor.
She didn’t bark much at first. This suited me. I had read that Pomeranians could be quite yappy. My baby brother finished his time in the US Navy and when he came home, he spent time at my house. He could not stand it that Sophie did not bark. He would get in the floor and bark at her until she would bark at him. Later on, every time he would get his keys to leave, she would bark and bark and bark. It would drive him crazy. Ironically, she never barked when I would leave.
Sophie always seemed to know what I was talking about. She listened to my problems and more than once licked the tears from my cheeks. She greeted me at the door each time I came home. She loved to be held and to go for car rides. She loved to go to Sonic and get water, as much as, I loved to go to Sonic to get a Diet Coke. She would sleep in my arms and lay her head on my shoulder. She was my baby; my gift from God.
Sophie was spoiled rotten. My dad would often joke that she didn’t know she was a dog. She didn’t bark when other dogs were barking, she didn’t always want to be outside. She knew from the beginning that she was the Princess; the ruler of the house.
Sophie was a picky eater. She ate hard dog food until we had to have all her teeth pulled, then we switched to Cesar soft food. Sometimes she would get a bite of table food and she would go days without eating her dog food in hopes to get another taste from the table.
Sophie had her share of health issues. She had to have steroid injections more than once due to issues related with her back. The vet told me it was because she was jumping on the furniture.
We had to have all of her teeth pulled. This caused her tongue to hang out.
She was still as cute as ever.
In the last couple of years Sophie didn’t hear as well as she once did. Last year she was diagnosed with congestive heart failure. In the last couple of months she could not see. She would get lost in the house. Sometimes she would just stand in one spot and then finally just lay down on the floor. This was not her nature. She had always found her blanket or a piece of my clothing to lay on.
My heart began to break. I could not stand to see her suffer.
With a heavy heart, I made one of the hardest decisions of my life.
I have cried and cried. I am so sad. I feel so lost.
I miss you Sophie.
Sophie
October 26, 1995 to September 6, 2011
