“There are angels who can stay with us on earth until they get their wings. They have 4 paws, a black licorice nose, the most beautiful fur in the world, and the most loyal look you can imagine.”
“And until these angels get their wings they call them dogs.”
Dackel Princess’ Arnold, “Arnie”, came into our lives on a bitterly cold Sunday morning. His mother, Greta had a problem getting one of Arnie’s four sisters out and so a cesarian was done. All five pups came out healthfully, and after a couple of hours, we drove the one mile from the Vets office back to our home.
I had decided to keep Arnie’s sister, Anneliese, and all the other puppies were sold, including Arnie. But fate stepped in and at the last minute the woman slated to adopt Arnie canceled. At 12 weeks old, Arnie was “Little Orphan Arnie”. What could we do? He had stolen our hearts and the boy was home.
Arnie lived quite happily with his mother Greta, sister, Anneliese, and a stepbrother named Fritz. They loved to play together, sleep together and ride in the car. Arnie was only six months old when he and Anneliese went to Canada with us for a family reunion. It was on the old family homestead and both pups enjoyed the freedom.
As time passed Anneliese was expecting a litter of puppies, and the only dog she allowed near them was her brother Arnie. Throughout their entire lives, Arnie and his sister remained best friends.
Arnie loved it when my grandchildren came into his life. First Savannah and then Quinn. The last sleepover found the kids nestled up with Arnie.
Arnie was one of a kind. He presided over the house as the King of all Dackels, yet he never once growled or did it by force. No, Arnie was a lover and all of our dogs adored this sweet boy. Especially our latest 7-year-old Lili.
Now Arnie has gone over Rainbow Bridge. I sobbed giant, ugly tears, as losing this boy is akin to having my heart ripped out of my body. I held him and kissed him until he slipped away.
Goodnight Sweet Prince. I shall miss you every day of my life. You truly were one of a kind.
John Galsworthy wrote: “Not the least hard thing to bear when they go from us, these quiet friends, is that they carry away with them so many years of our own lives.” So very true.