Kirby. Cubby. The Cubs. The Kirbster. Big Bidness. Big Guy. Big Twubbles. My Boy.

When the time had come for his very last car ride, he let me pick him up and carry him out to the car without even the slightest whimper (those with Bassetts know this isn't normal) and he walked casually into the veterinarian's office, even waiting patiently for me to hold the door for him. While we waited for a room, I silently wished he would become completely incapacitated or start barking at the other dogs, showing some life. Instead, he sat calmly between Amy's legs, occasionally looking at us with the eyes that won us over a little over 3 years ago.

A million thoughts raced through my head, memories of the good times we had and my thoughts on death and what happens in the end. Our only goal was to end his pain which he was clearly in. While he was walking on his own, he hadn't had a bite to eat or even a sip of water (Kirby had a serious drinking problem) and he hadn't just been himself in weeks. I spent the majority of this week lying on the floor with him (still doing my conference calls at work) and he had finally let me look into his eyes for long periods of time. I saw sweetness and pain, pain he didn't deserve.

Amy and I stayed with him while Dr. Sunderman injected a powerful sedative followed by an overdose of a narcotic. He calmly fell asleep on his side next to Amy and I on the floor. His heart stopped about 30 seconds after the narcotic was administered. No movement whatsoever. And then he was gone.

We would have done anything to make him better- any amount of money, any amount of time. He was our child. His quality of life was the most important thing however and Amy and I could not fathom dozens of trips to the vet, surgeries, medicines and immobility. The cancer was too aggressive and we were out of time. He deserved better. We rescued him from an abusive family and someone who abandoned him. Though maybe he rescued us. He gave us better days. He deserved to be free of this pain. And now he is.

Thank you so much for finding us, big guy.

Wherever it is we we pass from this physical life, I hope to see this again

Craigslist:  "SFBH (Single Female Bassett Hound) wooksing for coot and submissive pwayfriend dat wont steals my fuds. 

Petfinder.com:  Nice but not smrts male Basset Hound wif widdle bwain.  Barks at air wandomly but iz sometimes nice when he is sweeping in hiz cage.  If act now, will frow in special brack kitteh who has gud attitude when sweeping up on kitchen cabinet.  Pwease repwy in confidence to salsters99@bassetmailz.com."

Amy and I were disturbed to say the least and Sally has lost her internet privileges for 30 days until she understands the impact of her posts.

Note:  These pictures were not staged (seriously).

Everyday around noon, a Western Fence Lizard comes out to get some sun on the roof near the window in our upstairs master bathroom.  We call him "Wiz" and Ellie likes to watch and sometimes talk to him.

 
(click on the thumbnails for larger images)

While daddy is slaving away at work, mommy and the kids are having a rough day of lounging. It's clear who they love the most. Due to contractual disagreements and a feud with Gracie, Ellie was not able to participate in this group photo.

Both entertaining and informational. Ellie especially liked the feline yodeling.

(via The Boss)

10 minutes later, No Beebs. Grace is acting really funny though talking up a storm (instead of laying all over my arms and keyboard) and pacing. Then I just had a panic. What if he had gotten out this morning? I'm running all over the house calling his name. Nothing except Grace yelling back at me to shut the hell up. Looked in the other bedrooms, under the beds and in the closets. Nothing. Run outside. Back first then front. Heart rate= 190. Calling him like crazy. Just as I was about to dial Amy, I thought I heard a faint meow. Great, he's under the damn deck again. I run in and grab the flashlight seriously thinking about calling the fire dept. Nothing under the deck but I could hear him better now. Looked in the trees because it sort of seemed like he was above me. Nope. On the roof? I walked all around the house and couldn't see him but noticed I couldn't hear him when I was in the front yard.

What the hell? I recognized his meow but it seemed so faint and distant. He could obviously hear me though and possibly even see me. I actually became naseous. Then he let out a big one and I looked up into the bedroom window from the deck. He had to be inside. Sure enough, he was in the walk in closet. Somehow, even though I'd (very) quickly opened the door, I managed to miss him and probably scared him enough that he didn't meow. Poor guy. Lots of tuna flakes and grooming from Grace should make him forget and eventually my blood pressure will return to normal. I miss the days when they were babies and laid around all day in piles of big blankets. I don't know how my parents dealt with me when I got old enough to get myself in trouble. Constantly.