I've not wanted to write this post.
It's sad like the one I wrote about Gracie. I've avoided it for over 2 months. Mostly I've just avoided blogging, but particularly this subject.
I can't NOT write it. This blog is a scrapbook (skimpy as it may be as of late.)
So here's the tribute I hate to write.
**THE DEUCE**
August 2003 - September 2011
Britton brought Deuce home to our little trailer house in Shawnee in late 2003.
Our dear friends had heard that Britton grew up having a Schnauzer and they offered to give us a pure bred male. I'm not even sure B asked me if it was OK...he just told me what was happening. For certain, he was excited.
We named him Deuce.
Because Rastus (B's childhood dog) was the first.
And D was the second.
{pics of pic via iPhone :: Christmas 2003}
{pics of pic via iPhone :: Christmas 2003}
CJ would NOT look at him the night B brought him home.
We weren't even supposed to have two dogs in the trailer park we lived in (gosh we sound redneck here...but it was a cute trailer and clean park...thus all the rules). We were busted one time when our landlord could see CJ in the fenced yard and HEAR another dog barking in the house. We told her we were keeping my mom's dog.
"Mama said it's just a little white lie so it wouldn't hurt nobody". - Forrest Gump
He was so adorable as a puppy. And he was such a snuggly dog. In the years before Miles was born (and we got nicer furniture) he was king of whatever space he wanted to be in.
There was this one Christmas in Pauls Valley... We had a real tree that touched the ceiling and you couldn't even see the TV from one side of the room because of it's girth. It was GINORMOUS for our tiny little house. And it smelled awesome.
On Christmas Eve as we were beginning to load the car with presents for our travels I discovered that not only had D marked EVERY package under the tree, but he had also been marking the tree on a daily basis, ruining my tree skirt and causing me to have to re-wrap all the presents in that moment. We never smelled it because of the super fragrant tree.
I threw him out the back door like a softball.
And it's one of my favorite Christmas stories to tell. If you were a dog, and an 8 foot tree was in your living room, you'd be confused too. Poor little guy.
When Miles was born, the dogs moved to the back yard.
Which meant D got groomed less and less. Here, he looks like a muppet.
But he was warm.
They had a great backyard in PV. If I recall correctly, D killed 6 possums and 2 squirrels who presumed to enter it. Once they were in that fence, they were his.
Moving here, I had terrible guilt about not having the same setup. New to living in the country, they were in a pen away from the house and the first night, they barked ALL. NIGHT. LONG. You can read about all of my "kicking the dogs out" guilt HERE.
But no matter what, they always came in for the holidays and really cold occasions.
He was everybody's friend and lived for the next adventure or snuggle, whichever presented itself first.
{Fall :: 2010}
{Fall :: 2011}
{Memorial Day Weekend :: 2010}
{Snowapalooza :: Feb. 2011}
{Spring/Summer :: 2011}
He is missed.
And I'm so thankful Britton brought him home...whether he actually ever asked or not.
{Christmas campout :: 2010}
