I'm yet to go a day without crying since we lost Scrubs. The hardest place for me is the school room where we had let him take over a love seat when we found out how sick he was.
But memories of me keep me smiling.
One great memory came when we bought Scrubs. He came from a breeder in Delaware, and with him came the paperwork about his life. He was born into a litter of 11 puppies. (Big litters are common for this breed.)
His brothers and sisters were listed as well. The list read:
(You get the idea.)
Every single dog on the list had a stone-like name.
They had given Scrubs the name Pisser.
The breeder told me he was just a stinker and the name fit him perfectly. She actually said that sending Pisser off was the hardest for him because he made such a huge impression on them.
There is no question that the-dog-formerly-known-as-Pisser was quite the stinker. He left me so exasperated so many times during his entire life, but especially during the four years that we considered him a puppy. He swallowed socks hole. He put anything in his mouth that he could find. He got himself stuck on top of his kennel. He brought me a dead rabbit from the yard. He rained for a half-marathon with JB and still came home running laps in the backyard.
Oh and he once got out of the house and went across the street and stole a ball cap from a chair in our neighbor's carport.
Such a bundle of energy and stubbornness and cuteness all rolled into one.