Gotcha Day!

Sauerkraut Here!

* I actually wrote this post yesterday, but never posted it*

February 2nd is my dogs “Gotcha Day.” If you don’t know what a Gotcha Day is it’s the day that you got your dog. Because most of us don’t know when our dogs were born, my mom and I celebrate our dogs “Gotcha Day” instead of his birthday.

Puppy picture.  This is the picture they posted in the paper to try and adopt him out.  My moms co-worker walked into work and said, "Hey there's a chocolate lab down at the shelter that is scheduled to die this afternoon if someone doesn't go get him."  Mom went and got him and he spent the first few hours of his time with us in a KMart shopping cart."  Tear.

So, I spent all day trying to figure out what year my mom and I got my dog. My mom lost the paperwork, surprise! And here’s what we know:

- We got him after we moved into our house (1994)

- I think I was in junior high school (1994-1997)

- I think I was in 8th/9th grade (1995/1997)

- The vet says he’s 13, so that would be 1998… But mom says we got him neutered a year before that at a different vet, so that would be 1997.

- My brother says we got him after he “moved to Boise,” (ha!) in 1997.

Can you see why we’re so confused? So we’ve either had him for 13, 14, or 15 years! I personally think we got him in 1997, meaning we’ve had him for 14 years.

Puppy at the vet.

The average life span for a Labrador Retriever is 10-12 years. Sigh. In other words, I probably won’t be writing about his Gotcha Day next year. My poor puppy still thinks he’s a pup but the reality is, he can barely stand/walk, he takes anti-inflammatory medication, pain medication, and glucose supplements. Plus, he won’t eat, unless I put yummy stuff in his food. Still, sometimes I have to spoon feed it to him before he’ll eat it, brat.

It’s hard to imagine life without a brown, furry lump by my side because he’s been there with me for so long. I have so many memories with him:

- The time I vacuumed his fur… To this day he’s terrified of the vacuum, oops. I didn’t know it would scare him that bad.

- The time I tried to make him swim in the canal, he didn’t do so well.

- Washing him in the shower downstairs at my grandparents and at the dog salon.

- Driving with him next to me in the Rustinator (my car in high school).

- Sitting on the back steps of my house right before I left for college (to this day I still feel awful for leaving him)

- Him visiting me my first year of college.

- The time he ate an entire vanilla ice cream cone in one gulp.

- Walking him in the park.

So, how am I dealing with the reality that he’s dying? I’m not. I’m blocking it out and pretending it’s not happening, typical Sauerkraut. Deep down I know that one day I will get a call that he’s gone or that he’s in bad shape and that it’s time to kill him, but I’m hoping that call doesn’t come for awhile. The truth is I hope he goes on his own. I don’t want my puppy to suffer, but I also don’t want to murder him.

We were having fun painting.

For now, I’m going to suck up as much time as I can with him. In fact, he’s coming to visit me for Presidents Day, so that should be fun.

That is all.

Sauerkraut