“My” 19 year old dog passed away today. I say “my” because when parents get an 8 year old a dog it’s really the parents’ dog with a dumb name chosen by a kid. Enter Tizzy.
I broke my thumb skiing on Christmas day 1993. It was part of a multi-state Christmas trip in the Pace Arrow motor home (seen in background) where we skied for a week in Colorado, then visited the grand parents in Arizona then drove a long way back to Texas. At the mountain they set the bone, but we saw another doctor in Phoenix and they decided they had to break it and set it again. This time they put in a long pin to make sure it stayed put. Needless to say this is very traumatic for an 8 year old boy.
Somehow in all of this I ended up with a dog as a consolation prize of sorts. Yes she was a shih tzu. Remember what I said about the dog really being your parents’ dog? Well guess whose mom used to compete shih tzus in dog shows? Many years later I went off to college and years after that I didn’t come back and years after THAT I did move back and all this time Tizzy was still there.
19 people years is a long time for a dog (133 in dog years). She hadn’t been very spry for a long time and over the last three years she had gone completely deaf and blind. She had a long full life and her last few meals were cut up steak. Not “steak” dog food, but real people food steak. The good stuff. For a good dog.