Thursday, April 07, 2016


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. 

Except one.

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.

Good boy.

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