Friday, 7 December 2012
Wednesday, 5 December 2012
The first time I met my friend Grimm, he was about 10cm long, weighed less than 100g and was on the verge of dying.
I had gone with a friend to pick up her new puppy that she was getting from another colleague at work. While handing over my friend's pup, they casually mentioned that the runt of the litter was somehow still alive despite not having been fed for over a week.The mother had rejected it around that time as it was so small and clearly not going to survive. They seemed almost proud of how long it was taking to die and I was horrified at their casual attitude and cruelty at leaving that poor BABY to suffer like that and asked if I could have it since it was dying anyway. They tried to convince me that this one would die by the evening and why didn't I take one of the other ones...for a price, of course.
I was so tempted to take the other puppy. I absolutely cannot resist puppies and kittens - I am telling you they perform some kind of mind trick with their gooey eyes and baby smell. They hypnotise you into becoming their slave and before you know it, you're the proud owner of that puppy you so always wanted...wait..what? Puppy? I didn't want a pupp...oh right. yes...yes.. I so did. Give me now!
...But they were just leaving the runt to die. So I said the next thing that would change my life forever.
Can I just see it please?
My friend's pup was a female about the size of large German Shepherd pup at 6 weeks of age. They were pavement specials since the dogs were left to roam around often. She had muddy brown fur, curious golden eyes and was fat and wriggly! She was a giant in contrast to the wreck they brought me, easily 20 times the size of the runt.
When they brought out the runt, I knew immediately that I would be taking him with me. My plan initially was to take him straight to the vet and have him put down. It was a male and he could fit into my palm - he was in a filthy rag and covered in fleas. His eyes were crusted over with dirt and mucus. He was so light I felt that the wind would blow him away. He was literally a tiny skeleton in a filthy, crusted, sore - covered piece of skin. He didn't seem to respond to sound, he couldn't see, he clearly wasn't being fed but when i touched his tiny head so softly, his little legs just started scrabbling so fast, as if he was running for his life. I didn't think, I just reacted. I was determined to take him and refused to look at the other pups after that. I was so upset my eyes filled with tears and they got so taken aback at my reaction, they didn't even ask me for any money.
So they gave me a piece of paper towel and I laid that on my lap when i got in my car and laid him carefully on top so he could feel my body heat. I was also worried he might fall off the seat and die. Illogical, I know, since i was meant to put him down. I started the trip back home. Home was about 20mins away and my little friend showed me that he was a fighter. I don't know how he managed it since he seemed unconscious but he kept trying to move away. His little feet would start scrabbbling furiously and he would breathe heavily and that tiny pink tongue came out. Then he would get tired and rest a minute. but he would always start again. The vet was right near my house so I went there first, now wavering between my initial decision and trying to save him since he seemed like such a scrappy little thing. Let's just see what the vet says, I thought. Our vet was a wonderful lady with a great affinity for animals and a no nonsense approach. She immediately told me to put him down. He was practically gone, she said. All we could do was make him comfortable. I don't know why but I refused. Looking back, I can't think of why I would have done that because it made no sense. He was in a terrible condition and the odds were stacked against him. Even now, I have always had a great respect for the will to survive that he showed me on that first day and that must obviously be why I chose to take him home with me, armed with baby formula and a tiny feeding bottle. The vet injected him with some solution for dehydration but couldn't give him anything else because of his weight and limited response. The solution formed a large lump under his skin and on the way to my house, about 5 mins from the vet, it leaked out into the napkin along with traces of his blood. He never made a sound though and when i got home, I had to face another hurdle. Mum.
My mum loves animals and is very protective of her babies. At the time, we had our old lady, Chita, a German Shepherd and my baby, Jett, who we got from the SPCA and she always made sure that they had their vaccines and were healthy and happy in every respect. So when she saw the little flea infested, probably disease - laden rat that i had in my hand, she flipped. Of course, I know my mum and she is all talk, or shout in this case. As soon as she let me explain - by which time she had already taken him from me and was cleaning him up(unasked) - he already had her wrapped around his little paws. I told her my new plan which was just to get him well and then find a home for him. She wasn't very happy at the risk to our other dogs but she was already putty. My mum cannot resist an animal in distress.
So began a seemingly endless cycle of hourly feeds and constant worry if he would make it through the night, with everyone chipping in to help him in some way(no matter what my Mum says, she did not do it single handedly lol). I named him Grimm since his condition was exactly that and I had just read the 3rd Harry Potter book. I really didn't think that he would survive for very long but he hadn't quit yet so I was going to help him. At most I thought he would get 2 years if he survived. We kept him in our kitchen in a warm corner between the fridge and the pantry since it was the only place that didn't have anything dangerous and could be isolated. He also wouldn't be able to crawl into any small place that we couldn't access. Or so we thought. We would check on him every two hours and feed him Milk'OPup formula from a bottle. Feeding him that tiny 30ml bottle used to take about an hour and then you had to massage his tummy and clean his eyes.
Throughout it all, he kept fighting and slowly but surely, he started to get stronger.
After 2 weeks of constant love and attention, he started responding to sound and his eyes were clearing up. A few more weeks and we cut the feeds down and started solids and he started moving around.
That's when we lost him the first time. We put him to bed in his spot and barricaded him in. I went to check on him a few hours later and he wasn't there. I was frantic since he wasn't even a kg and our other dogs were monsters compared to him and HOW DID HE GET OUT. I called and called and checked that small enclosed kitchen thoroughly. I even checked the cupboards just in case he somehow managed to open them using his mental powers and climbed in to trick us. Then I started searching the house, because when you have ruled out the possible, only the impossible remains. or something like that...
After some time, I was in tears and completely confused. I went back to the kitchen and sat at the table and out trots little Grimmy from the tiny, miniscule gap between the fridge and the freezer. He yawns and stretches and looks at me as if to say, what? i was napping. got food?After that, whenever he disappeared, I would check there first and sure enough he would be right inside. Even my Dad, who seemed fairly oblivious to the chaos of our home, woke me up a few times because he couldn't find Grimm during one of his midnight kitchen raids. When he got older, when he was scared he would go and stare at the fridge in the kitchen as if he wished he could still crawl in between there. It always brought a smile to my face.
He grew to be a beautiful, happy vibrant dog and when i took him back to our vet, she could not believe that it was the same animal that was on deaths door. He growled at her that first time, which gave me endless amusement since he was still a baby. He obviously took offence at her wanting to put him down.
We ended up keeping him since we couldn't even think of giving him to anyone. What if they didn't understand that he has special needs! Grimm had some complications from being so severely malnourished. His back legs were always very weak and he didn't seem to react to pain. Grimm never let a little thing like pain stop him and he would frequently come in limping badly, only to go haring off like a maniac a second later, injury forgotten. It was a nightmare trying to restrain him since he had an iron will.
He would often eat more than his stomach could hold and then vomit it back up. I always thought that he had some brain damage although I could never say that in front of my mum. She would smack me lol. Mostly these things were easy to monitor and we watched him so much that we learned to read his body language. We would just have to be more careful with him. I bought him special food and took him to the vet regularly and before I knew it, a year had passed and he was firmly stamped on our hearts.
As he grew, he became more and more beautiful. He was such a happy guy that many, many people asked us to give him to them. As if. We earned the priviledge of having him. Blood and guts, baby!
He had to investigate everything and the first time we heard him bark, we were shocked at how deep it was. We called it his big boy bark and he loved showing it off whenever we were around to praise him. He would swim every day and it was a running joke that he was the only one that actually used the pool. He had a big personality and he certainly thought that he ruled the roost although to be fair, we did let him. He was a very quiet dog and besides barking at imagined intruders, he never whined or moaned or groaned much at all. He would huff at you instead, little breaths of air. one huff for exasperation, many huffs for excitement and these would be accompanied by little hops on his front feet only. He would come and check on me in the mornings and huff at me to say hurry up. And his greatest love in life was his tennis ball. He would sit and lick it for hours and would walk around with it safely held in his mouth. We had a huge collection just for him and even though I would give them to him and just wanted to play, he would still grab it and eye me distrustfully if I walked too close to his precious. I would tell him that I brought him into this house and I would take him out and he would grin at me and stalk off, tail held high. He knew my mum would protect him. She always took his side. He was very attached to my mum since she spent most time with him and would follow her everywhere. He would help her in the garden by taming the hosepipe into submission while she was using it and thoughtfully remove large chunks of her garden because that's what she did, right? He used to sleep outside her room and that probably cemented his idea that he was the Don since he was the only dog allowed to do so. Eventually, it just became Grimm's spot.
The last time I saw him, we both knew it would be for the last time. He was old and although he never seemed to be in pain, he had taken to sitting down for long periods of time. He would battle in winter when the cold seemed to affect his legs more.
Grimm bestows affection on me very rarely, a handful of times in all our years, 5 at most. He would always come to me when he was scared but he would just want to be near me, as if he knew I would save him again. He was never a dog that would lick you or love you to you bits. He was aloof, you were meant to adore him, not the other way around. He would sit with you but if you petted him too much, he would move away and look at you as if you ruined the friendship. The only time he would voluntarily come to you was if it was a lightening storm. Then he could never stand to be alone and his need for company overrode his annoyance at your petting him.
I was at my family home for the weekend and every time I saw him, my eyes welled. We spent some time together that weekend, mostly in the early hours when neither of us could sleep. I scratched the hard to reach spots on his back and behind his ears and gave him treats and told him how much I love him even though he stole my stuff and made me mad and how much I missed him when I left and how grateful I was that he never gave up all those years ago.
The last time I petted him, I was about to leave on my way back to my marital home in another province and I went to say goodbye to him. He looked at me straight in the eye and he licked my hand slowly and lovingly and I knew we would see each other no more. My heart broke but i wished him luck and told him that I will carry him in my heart and he gave me his old smile. The one he used when he was super happy, especially if there was a ball involved. I used to always tell him it made him look a bit like a doofus. I burst into tears and called him a retard while he grinned at me patiently while I composed myself before saying going to say goodbye to my parents. There was nothing left to say.
In the last few years, I have married and moved away from my family home and with each year, it feels different going back. My initial reaction every time is heartache when i don't see my boys where they should be because Jett has passed on and Grimm was too old to stand and wait there. There's just something missing from that picture...
Since getting back, I have been dreading the call that would signal the end of an era for me, in a sense. The best chapter in a storybook.
My friend Grimm. Grimmy, Grimaldi, Grimaldo, Grumpy, Retardo, Piggy. So many stories. So many memories.
He died yesterday.He still refused to give up. We had to make the decision for him. He would live forever if it was up to him. Never say die.
He was 11 years old. 11 years more than I ever thought he have.
I wrote this was because I want people to know about Grimm and how remarkable he was and how he survived despite the odds. All he needed was someone take a chance on him. As a firm rooter of the underdog, I admired his tenacity and I am so thankful that I did take him and for whatever force brought him into my life. He changed our lives for the better and I will miss his spirit and personality more than i thought possible.
I had gone with a friend to pick up her new puppy that she was getting from another colleague at work. While handing over my friend's pup, they casually mentioned that the runt of the litter was somehow still alive despite not having been fed for over a week.The mother had rejected it around that time as it was so small and clearly not going to survive. They seemed almost proud of how long it was taking to die and I was horrified at their casual attitude and cruelty at leaving that poor BABY to suffer like that and asked if I could have it since it was dying anyway. They tried to convince me that this one would die by the evening and why didn't I take one of the other ones...for a price, of course.
I was so tempted to take the other puppy. I absolutely cannot resist puppies and kittens - I am telling you they perform some kind of mind trick with their gooey eyes and baby smell. They hypnotise you into becoming their slave and before you know it, you're the proud owner of that puppy you so always wanted...wait..what? Puppy? I didn't want a pupp...oh right. yes...yes.. I so did. Give me now!
...But they were just leaving the runt to die. So I said the next thing that would change my life forever.
Can I just see it please?
 | |
| Grimm taking a swim while Jett looks on |
My friend's pup was a female about the size of large German Shepherd pup at 6 weeks of age. They were pavement specials since the dogs were left to roam around often. She had muddy brown fur, curious golden eyes and was fat and wriggly! She was a giant in contrast to the wreck they brought me, easily 20 times the size of the runt.
When they brought out the runt, I knew immediately that I would be taking him with me. My plan initially was to take him straight to the vet and have him put down. It was a male and he could fit into my palm - he was in a filthy rag and covered in fleas. His eyes were crusted over with dirt and mucus. He was so light I felt that the wind would blow him away. He was literally a tiny skeleton in a filthy, crusted, sore - covered piece of skin. He didn't seem to respond to sound, he couldn't see, he clearly wasn't being fed but when i touched his tiny head so softly, his little legs just started scrabbling so fast, as if he was running for his life. I didn't think, I just reacted. I was determined to take him and refused to look at the other pups after that. I was so upset my eyes filled with tears and they got so taken aback at my reaction, they didn't even ask me for any money.
So they gave me a piece of paper towel and I laid that on my lap when i got in my car and laid him carefully on top so he could feel my body heat. I was also worried he might fall off the seat and die. Illogical, I know, since i was meant to put him down. I started the trip back home. Home was about 20mins away and my little friend showed me that he was a fighter. I don't know how he managed it since he seemed unconscious but he kept trying to move away. His little feet would start scrabbbling furiously and he would breathe heavily and that tiny pink tongue came out. Then he would get tired and rest a minute. but he would always start again. The vet was right near my house so I went there first, now wavering between my initial decision and trying to save him since he seemed like such a scrappy little thing. Let's just see what the vet says, I thought. Our vet was a wonderful lady with a great affinity for animals and a no nonsense approach. She immediately told me to put him down. He was practically gone, she said. All we could do was make him comfortable. I don't know why but I refused. Looking back, I can't think of why I would have done that because it made no sense. He was in a terrible condition and the odds were stacked against him. Even now, I have always had a great respect for the will to survive that he showed me on that first day and that must obviously be why I chose to take him home with me, armed with baby formula and a tiny feeding bottle. The vet injected him with some solution for dehydration but couldn't give him anything else because of his weight and limited response. The solution formed a large lump under his skin and on the way to my house, about 5 mins from the vet, it leaked out into the napkin along with traces of his blood. He never made a sound though and when i got home, I had to face another hurdle. Mum.
My mum loves animals and is very protective of her babies. At the time, we had our old lady, Chita, a German Shepherd and my baby, Jett, who we got from the SPCA and she always made sure that they had their vaccines and were healthy and happy in every respect. So when she saw the little flea infested, probably disease - laden rat that i had in my hand, she flipped. Of course, I know my mum and she is all talk, or shout in this case. As soon as she let me explain - by which time she had already taken him from me and was cleaning him up(unasked) - he already had her wrapped around his little paws. I told her my new plan which was just to get him well and then find a home for him. She wasn't very happy at the risk to our other dogs but she was already putty. My mum cannot resist an animal in distress.
So began a seemingly endless cycle of hourly feeds and constant worry if he would make it through the night, with everyone chipping in to help him in some way(no matter what my Mum says, she did not do it single handedly lol). I named him Grimm since his condition was exactly that and I had just read the 3rd Harry Potter book. I really didn't think that he would survive for very long but he hadn't quit yet so I was going to help him. At most I thought he would get 2 years if he survived. We kept him in our kitchen in a warm corner between the fridge and the pantry since it was the only place that didn't have anything dangerous and could be isolated. He also wouldn't be able to crawl into any small place that we couldn't access. Or so we thought. We would check on him every two hours and feed him Milk'OPup formula from a bottle. Feeding him that tiny 30ml bottle used to take about an hour and then you had to massage his tummy and clean his eyes.
Throughout it all, he kept fighting and slowly but surely, he started to get stronger.
After 2 weeks of constant love and attention, he started responding to sound and his eyes were clearing up. A few more weeks and we cut the feeds down and started solids and he started moving around.
 |
| Jett and Grimm |
That's when we lost him the first time. We put him to bed in his spot and barricaded him in. I went to check on him a few hours later and he wasn't there. I was frantic since he wasn't even a kg and our other dogs were monsters compared to him and HOW DID HE GET OUT. I called and called and checked that small enclosed kitchen thoroughly. I even checked the cupboards just in case he somehow managed to open them using his mental powers and climbed in to trick us. Then I started searching the house, because when you have ruled out the possible, only the impossible remains. or something like that...
After some time, I was in tears and completely confused. I went back to the kitchen and sat at the table and out trots little Grimmy from the tiny, miniscule gap between the fridge and the freezer. He yawns and stretches and looks at me as if to say, what? i was napping. got food?After that, whenever he disappeared, I would check there first and sure enough he would be right inside. Even my Dad, who seemed fairly oblivious to the chaos of our home, woke me up a few times because he couldn't find Grimm during one of his midnight kitchen raids. When he got older, when he was scared he would go and stare at the fridge in the kitchen as if he wished he could still crawl in between there. It always brought a smile to my face.
He grew to be a beautiful, happy vibrant dog and when i took him back to our vet, she could not believe that it was the same animal that was on deaths door. He growled at her that first time, which gave me endless amusement since he was still a baby. He obviously took offence at her wanting to put him down.
We ended up keeping him since we couldn't even think of giving him to anyone. What if they didn't understand that he has special needs! Grimm had some complications from being so severely malnourished. His back legs were always very weak and he didn't seem to react to pain. Grimm never let a little thing like pain stop him and he would frequently come in limping badly, only to go haring off like a maniac a second later, injury forgotten. It was a nightmare trying to restrain him since he had an iron will.
He would often eat more than his stomach could hold and then vomit it back up. I always thought that he had some brain damage although I could never say that in front of my mum. She would smack me lol. Mostly these things were easy to monitor and we watched him so much that we learned to read his body language. We would just have to be more careful with him. I bought him special food and took him to the vet regularly and before I knew it, a year had passed and he was firmly stamped on our hearts.
 |
| The last picture I took of Grimm |
He had to investigate everything and the first time we heard him bark, we were shocked at how deep it was. We called it his big boy bark and he loved showing it off whenever we were around to praise him. He would swim every day and it was a running joke that he was the only one that actually used the pool. He had a big personality and he certainly thought that he ruled the roost although to be fair, we did let him. He was a very quiet dog and besides barking at imagined intruders, he never whined or moaned or groaned much at all. He would huff at you instead, little breaths of air. one huff for exasperation, many huffs for excitement and these would be accompanied by little hops on his front feet only. He would come and check on me in the mornings and huff at me to say hurry up. And his greatest love in life was his tennis ball. He would sit and lick it for hours and would walk around with it safely held in his mouth. We had a huge collection just for him and even though I would give them to him and just wanted to play, he would still grab it and eye me distrustfully if I walked too close to his precious. I would tell him that I brought him into this house and I would take him out and he would grin at me and stalk off, tail held high. He knew my mum would protect him. She always took his side. He was very attached to my mum since she spent most time with him and would follow her everywhere. He would help her in the garden by taming the hosepipe into submission while she was using it and thoughtfully remove large chunks of her garden because that's what she did, right? He used to sleep outside her room and that probably cemented his idea that he was the Don since he was the only dog allowed to do so. Eventually, it just became Grimm's spot.
The last time I saw him, we both knew it would be for the last time. He was old and although he never seemed to be in pain, he had taken to sitting down for long periods of time. He would battle in winter when the cold seemed to affect his legs more.
Grimm bestows affection on me very rarely, a handful of times in all our years, 5 at most. He would always come to me when he was scared but he would just want to be near me, as if he knew I would save him again. He was never a dog that would lick you or love you to you bits. He was aloof, you were meant to adore him, not the other way around. He would sit with you but if you petted him too much, he would move away and look at you as if you ruined the friendship. The only time he would voluntarily come to you was if it was a lightening storm. Then he could never stand to be alone and his need for company overrode his annoyance at your petting him.
I was at my family home for the weekend and every time I saw him, my eyes welled. We spent some time together that weekend, mostly in the early hours when neither of us could sleep. I scratched the hard to reach spots on his back and behind his ears and gave him treats and told him how much I love him even though he stole my stuff and made me mad and how much I missed him when I left and how grateful I was that he never gave up all those years ago.
The last time I petted him, I was about to leave on my way back to my marital home in another province and I went to say goodbye to him. He looked at me straight in the eye and he licked my hand slowly and lovingly and I knew we would see each other no more. My heart broke but i wished him luck and told him that I will carry him in my heart and he gave me his old smile. The one he used when he was super happy, especially if there was a ball involved. I used to always tell him it made him look a bit like a doofus. I burst into tears and called him a retard while he grinned at me patiently while I composed myself before saying going to say goodbye to my parents. There was nothing left to say.
In the last few years, I have married and moved away from my family home and with each year, it feels different going back. My initial reaction every time is heartache when i don't see my boys where they should be because Jett has passed on and Grimm was too old to stand and wait there. There's just something missing from that picture...
Since getting back, I have been dreading the call that would signal the end of an era for me, in a sense. The best chapter in a storybook.
 |
| Grimm (left), Jett (black at back) and Chita (right) |
My friend Grimm. Grimmy, Grimaldi, Grimaldo, Grumpy, Retardo, Piggy. So many stories. So many memories.
He died yesterday.He still refused to give up. We had to make the decision for him. He would live forever if it was up to him. Never say die.
He was 11 years old. 11 years more than I ever thought he have.
I wrote this was because I want people to know about Grimm and how remarkable he was and how he survived despite the odds. All he needed was someone take a chance on him. As a firm rooter of the underdog, I admired his tenacity and I am so thankful that I did take him and for whatever force brought him into my life. He changed our lives for the better and I will miss his spirit and personality more than i thought possible.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)