After getting back from spending Thanksgiving day at his doggie fun ranch, Korby got into the turkey leavings, which we very stupidly left outside within his reach. Normally after Korby gets into something he shouldn't, he gets a tummy ache, is a little sick for a day or two, and then is back to his dirt-eating ways without missing a beat. Unfortunately, this time his age caught up with him, and he developed pancreatitis. He spent the last day and a half in the animal hosptial, until this morning, when we allowed him to go to sleep peacefully and without any more pain.
Meh's reflections: Korby was a naughty dog. He ate raw challah dough, cupcakes, muffins, pizza, brisket, and other things left only partially secured on the counter. He stole food from our guests, ate dirt and leaves, and made a play for any roadkill he came across on walks. He tracked dirt around our home, peed on the floor, puked on the rug. He pawed us (and house guests) for attention, leaving bruises and scratches. He barked at inopportune times and shed until we found Korby-colored dust bunnies under the furniture ("Korby cousins"). He was rambunctious and crazy for food, he blurred around the yard for no reason except that he could.
Korby was a very very good dog. He loved us unconditionally, even when we ignored him, shooed him into the kitchen, skipped his walks, and had a baby that stole any attention he was used to getting. He curled up with us on the floor, and protected us from evil squirrels and doorbells. He had the softest fur. He would sometimes sleep with the tip of his pink tongue poking out between his lips, or his ear inexplicably sticking straight up from his head, occasionally barking softly as he dreamed about dirt and pine cones.I cried the day we picked Korby up from the Humane Society. When I knelt down in front of his cage, he licked my hand through the fence, and I knew we had to take him home. I cried today, when he slipped away to a place that I hope is full of piles of unsecured brisket and cupcakes, and lots of hands to scratch his belly.
Scoot's reflections:
From the very beginning, I knew this dog was going to be trouble. I'd been planning a somewhat elaborate marriage proposal for Meh when she decided that this was the weekend we should go to the animal shelter and look for a companion. He was so gentle and soft that we knew we were hooked, though I should've taken a cue from the fact that when one of the Humane Society employees led him into a run for us to try playing with him, he locked onto the fact that a dog next door was getting treats, and spent most of the time in that corner of the run trying to figure out how to get some goodies of his own.
And he was there too for all of the major events in our life that followed: wedding preparations, our wedding day, the move to our new house, trips to various parks and hikes, Meh's pregnancy, the birth of Zachary, and all of Zachary's many milestones. He was also always there to happily greet us when we returned from our various trips, often caked with mud from a particularly fun-filled time at the dog ranch. He's been such a patient dog, dealing with all of those other "important" things in our lives that kept us from giving him attention all day every day. He was happy to spend hours on end in the back yard, wearing a clearly visible trail along the route where he wandered back and forth. He's been a very patient older brother to Zachary, letting him grab his fur and tail, occasionally licking his face, and licking his hands clean after a meal. (Okay, sometimes graduating to a bit of gentle nibbling if there was a particularly tasty morsel in Zachary's pudgy fingers.)
Zachary learned to love him as well, smiling and giggling when he came out of his kennel in the morning, saying 'ah ah!' when he saw Korby running around outside, and looking around for him when he heard him bark, whine, or paw for food during Zachary's mealtime of forbidden foods. He has been fascinated by this large fluffy brother, and many of his favorite toys, books, and mobiles have been dog-themed as well.






























