Sassy

Sassy, our little 15-year-old Maltese, died July 2, 2009 in Lindale, TX.

Sassy was born Aug 23, 1993, to Terry’s Lucky Toby and Karl’s Chinese Lotus, in Auxvasse Mo. Yes, she had a pedigree, but she was never registered. She wasn’t a show dog and was never intended to be. She was just a little white dog that weighed only five pounds, but thought she was a hundred-pound Rottweiler.

Sassy had no fear. If she heard a noise that needed investigating, she would launch off the bed at a full run and travel ten feet before she touched the floor. If one of the big dogs accidentally hurt her in play, she’d latch onto their muzzle and growl like a banshee while they swung her around trying to shake her loose. When you carried her, you had to hold tight, because she would jump out of your arms if something looked interesting, or if you were too slow putting her down. If a strange dog headed her way, you had to grab her before she instigated a fight…no matter how big the other dog might be.

When Sassy was young, she had a terrible housebreaking problem. She knew she was supposed to go outside, but she would find a place to hide so she wouldn’t have to be bothered with going outside. Judy tried to change Sassy’s toilet practices, but that little dog would just look her in the eye and dare Judy to mete out punishment. I finally began taking her outside several times a day, and during the night I’d wake her up to take her outside, no matter if it was raining, snowing, or stifling hot. The little monster would growl at me and try to get back in the house, but I made her stay outside until she did her job. After a few weeks of that, she began to accept the fact that no amount of stubbornness would allow her to have her way, and her toilet habits improved tremendously. It must have been her instinct to defer to the wishes of the alpha male, because about that time, to Judy’s dismay, Sassy decided that she would become my dog.

Every place I went, she’d be right behind, and if I stopped, she’d stay close by. If I was on the computer, she would sleep on a little pillow next to my feet. If I was sitting in a chair watching TV, she’d hop up beside me and sleep next to me. Even as she got older, she’d do her best to keep track of where I was during the day, and during the night she slept on a pillow next to the bed.

Men are supposed to have big dogs…hunting dogs, or herding dogs, not little fluffy dogs with fancy haircuts and ribbons in their hair, but Sassy didn’t know that, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her. I’m sure people thought I was a strange duck, driving down the street with a freshly groomed little Maltese sitting on my lap, head hanging out the window, with her ribbons blowing in the wind.

The past couple of years haven’t been good for her. She began to go blind soon after we moved here in 2007, and it progressed very quickly. Her hearing also began to go, and at the last, she was nearly deaf. Only a yell or a very loud noise could get her attention. Only her nose still worked, and she’d find her way around the house and yard, sometimes bumping into things, but never giving up.

Despite her ailments, she’d still go outside and stand by the fence waiting for me to come home. She’d sometimes stand there for hours, and when I got home, the first thing I’d see is her little nose poking through a gap in the fence. Then she’d follow her nose through the doggy door and hurry to greet me when I came in. She couldn’t see me, or hear me, but she could still smell.

A couple of months ago, right after she finished eating, she shrieked in pain and several minutes went by before the pain eased. These episodes occurred every few days, until recently they happened nearly every day. In the middle of last Wednesday night, she again screamed and I had to hold her for several minutes before she began to relax. Then on Thursday, she was walking down the hall when she suddenly had a seizure and fell backwards on the floor, losing all body control. The time had come. That Rottweiler heart was too strong for her little Maltese body and it was allowing her to suffer too much. We called the mobile vet, who came out that evening. Sassy went to sleep in Judy’s arms. The house is so empty without her.