Everyone who knew him thought Schmoozer was special. Schmoo battled very severe epilepsy for most of his short life. I was blessed to have that time with him. He just had this gift for charming people. He was gentle, silly, mellow and affectionate and even non-dog people were charmed by him.
I brought Schmoo home from the rescue group when he was just a pup. I actually felt a bit guilty getting a pup when there are so many older dogs needing homes. Several of my furry companions had recently crossed the rainbow bridge and Fancy-cat was getting old and developing health issues. I wanted someone who would be healthy and would share my life for a long time.
His first seizure came at seven months and it was a violent, long grand mal. Life isn’t a made for TV movie, where it all seems right in the end. Schmoo’s epilepsy just got worse over time and side-effects of the meds were almost as bad. There is a sort of magic that can come from adversity. When Coal (Schmoo’s predecessor) died, I didn’t think I could ever love a dog more deeply. Perhaps that’s true, but there’s a special intimacy shared between caretaker and survivor.
Schmoozer had chronic coordination problems known as ataxia. He fell a lot and struggled to do what other dogs could. My heart ached and I wanted to protect him. He didn’t want to be protected though. He wanted to play at the dog park, swim, hike and make new friends. It’s funny how when we know time may be short we become very conscious of using it well. I wanted Schmoo’s quality of life to be as good as possible and that meant I had to let him live on his own terms.
I remember the day I really understood what Schmoo was teaching me. He’d found a playmate who was quick and agile. Schmoozer couldn’t keep up and then he fell and I felt that pit in my stomach. My thoughts churned as I imagined a dark future, when happy barks pulled me out of my reverie. While I had been down in the dumps, Schmoo had picked himself up and flung his wobbly self into the game.
Schmoo had a big heart and he knew how to live life and find enjoyment. One winter we got hit by a major storm and everything was ice. Since Schmoo couldn’t walk on the ice he first made a game of sliding across the ice. Finally even that got to be too much and he thwumped down on the ground. His eyes looked up and brightened as he watched a big pileated woodpecker tear apart a tree.
Schmoo gave me so much and now it’s my turn to share with Cora. I’m watching Cora learn to walk as a tripod and find her way in a world she can’t see. I know she is going to struggle and fall. I also know she has a life of opportunity ahead of her.
Schmoo sounds like quite a guy. Some lessons he passed on. Thanks for sharing a bit of his story (and more of yours). You are a beautiful person for taking in these animals and letting them find their own way. Schmoo lives on in so many ways.
Thank you. Schmoo does live on. He stole a lot of hearts.
Schmoozer sounds like he was a really special guy, not because of his illness, but because he knew how to live his life, and he taught you a bit about living yours. I am so glad the two of you found each other!
Yes, he was a special guy. He went to work with me and I think he taught a lot of us about how to enjoy the moment. Thanks so much for your comments.
Oh what a sweet, sweet face. I love the way he looks at the camera in those pics. He was certainly a one-of-a-kind heart dog.
You know, it takes a VERY special person to be so good and loving to a dog with challenges. Schmoo was an amazing dog, but you are a really incredibly human. It was destiny that you found eachother (and we’re so glad you found us!).
Schmoo gave me back so much.
Thank you. I always feel awkward when people say stuff like that. It’s just what I do. I can do it and I love these guys.