Now, the timeline is a bit vague in my head, but I'll do my best to not be too confusing.
Cheeko
He was my very first dog, a lovely black Labrador puppy that we got when I was perhaps 9 or 10 years old. He spent what I hope were 3 happy months with us, but he passed away after a very sudden illness. My parents even paid for a surgery to try and save him, but he didn't make it. I don't remember him much, except for the walk we took with him on the day of his operation. It was my mother, my sister and I in the parking lot behind the clinic. We took pictures, but the films were bad and they never produced anything.Belle
Belle was an older schnauzer that needed a home. My mother heard about her workplace and she took her home one day. When I saw her for the first time, I thought she was the ugliest dog alive. Black, grey and white with a weird little beard/moustache... The funny thing is that it has become my favourite breed and my heart melts each time I see one of these little guys.
She was perhaps 7-9 years old when we got her and she stayed with us, sleeping on her blue cushion in the kitchen, for what I think were a few years. She was smart and a sneaky little devil. Our backyard was fenced and we would let her out, thinking that she was safe and happy to do her own things. We found out some time later that she had dug a hole and would escape for an hour or so to go explore the neighbourhood. How did we find it out? A neighbour told us that he had seen her walking around on her own a few times, and that this car had almost hit her. Silly doggy...
But she grew old, as all dogs do, and her health declined. Something a child might not always take notice of.
I would sometimes go visit some cousins for a few days in the summer... we'd do an exchange of some sort and that time, my cousin Hugo was swapped in my place. When I came back, I was told that they had given her away to a nice lady living on a farm, so Belle would be able to run freely despite losing her sight and that she would be much happier there to live her old days. I was heartbroken that I couldn't even tell her goodbye... and it wasn't until many years later that I learned that my parents had to actually put her away because of her health. I think that was in 1993.
There's a box at home in Canada with a bunch of old pictures and a few things that belonged to her. I think I'll have to remember to pack it the next time I visit.
Buddy
My father had decided against the three of us (who were rooting for a Schnauzer) and he bought a Boxer around the beginning of 1994 from some biker guy in Montréal (I think?).
Buddy was quite a lot of fun and he was hilarious when he was happy for visitors. Each time we had visitor, you could see this huge dog twisting himself in two with his tiny bit of tail wagging like mad. He was very friendly and used to sleep in the hallway between our rooms. The problem was that he snored. Loudly. And he farted too. Stinklingly and loudly as well.
I remember walking him one day and a little kid came along (he was perhaps 5 or 6 years old and I was about 14). The kid looked happy and came to greet Buddy. Well, that big thing was ecstatic at the prospect of a new friend, so before I could do anything, he got up on his back legs and put his front legs on the shoulders of the tiny kid who had no choice but to fall backward in the grass and... thankfully laughing his head off as Buddy's tongue tickled his cheeks.
We had Buddy for about a year. My dad developed allergies due to his very short hair (he travelled a lot back then, so it took about a year for my parents to make the connection between the symptoms and the cause). My mother managed to find him a great new home, so I'm hopefully that he spent many happy years after his stay with us.
Beethoven, aka Beetho
I'm not too sure when we got Beetho, but I guess around 1997. He was a schnauzer like Belle (we won over dad this time, mostly as we knew his allergies wouldn't be a problem with that breed). He was very sweet and a big idiot. I loved him with all my heart. I think this is the dog that I felt the most about, probably because I was also older (16-17 when we got him).
That's the dog who managed to get sprayed by a skunk on one tiny area of his body - exactly where he had his stitched... silly Beetho.
He would have lived with me in Montréal when I moved out, had the landlord not forbidden dogs in the apartment building. I missed him dearly for the whole year and would take him for walks each time I visited home... until my mother told me she had to put him down a week or so after my birthday (2001). I was devastated, but I know she was heartbroken as well. She's loved each of these dogs as much as I have and it is never an easy choice to make. She had to think of his well-being first and poor Beetho had been sick a lot during his short life. He had allergies which made him bite his paws until they bled. He was treated almost daily with some cortisone cream or pill I think. Then he had frequent ears infections and he even had two operations to try and solve that, to no avail. In the end, we also found out that he had an enlarged heart, which explained why he ran out of breath so often on his walks and would just plump himself down on the grass. It was when he started having bumps and the vet said it might be cancer, that my mother decided that the poor thing had already suffered enough in his life.
Thinking about him always brings tears to my eyes because I still miss him and I wish he had had the chance to get the long happy life that he truly deserved.
His red scarf is in that box. Dang, I really need to get it back.
Mr B
This isn't actually my dog and I've only had the immense pleasure of meeting him for a mere 3 weeks last summer (2010), but he's such an amazing dog! He's my mother's Schnauzer and he should be about 2 years old as she bought him a month or two after one of my visits (spring 2009). I was a bit miffed, because I would have loved to spend time with a schnauzer puppy, but I can't really blame her as it wasn't really planned.
She fell in love with his cute little snout at a pet shop and the rest is history.
Well, this turned out into quite a wall of text. I hope no one is snoring like Buddy by now!
Next up: the origins of Max' name.
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