Mz. Huby's History and Genie Journeys: 2015

Me and My Sugar

This is my Sugar. She is a beautful red furball of love, a mix between a Golden Retriever and Red Chow. She wasn't too big, about 50 pounds, about two feet high, very laid back, patient and chill.

Sugar was my sidekick, my companion, my child. She didn't like to leave my side, always following me to every room. She hated the vacuum cleaner, she loved crunchy crackers, she wasn't a mooch.

Sugar loved people. She never knew a stranger. When guests came to the house, she would sit at their feet, wagging her tail rapidly waiting for them to acknowledge and pet her. She never jumped on them, got under their feet, she just sat with this big happy smile and wagging tail.

Her tail: We called it the "sweeping tail of destruction" She wasn't a tall dog, at her shoulder, she may have been two feet tall. Her tail and hind legs were thick with that Chow cotton fur and her tail had somewhat of a upcurl. We have hardwood floors and a glass table. We learned the hard way that we had to use plastic cups always, or else that sweeping tail of destruction would send your glass of wine or cup of coffee sailing through the air and crashing.

Sugar had such a personality. She loved to sit with the French Doors open to the patio, she would sit on the threshold, body inside, head outside, it didn't matter if the air conditioning kicked on, she would watch the world go by.

Every late afternoon or evening, I would say "let's go check the mail". She would fly to the front door and we would walk to the road and check the mail. However, for her, it meant freedom to sniff around the front of the yard, then stroll around the acre tinkling here, tinkling there, smelling this and that and sneaking off to spots I couldn't see her. I would call for her and get frustrated and she would turn to me with that "whatever, Mom" look. She drop and roll in the grass, bark at the sky, sniff a neighbor dog. Sometimes I would stand and wait for her to complete her ritual, other times I would leave the patio door open and she would dutifully come trotting in at her own leisure.

She always knew the sound of Gary's little sports car. Afternoons, she and I would work in my office, waiting for Daddy to come home. She would hear the vroom vroom of that little Nissan Z or his Harley, come from a mile away. Her ears would perk, she tilted her head, look to me for confirmation, then jump to her feet and run to the door, tail wagging so hard that her whole body would lift off the ground and swing back and forth. Daddy's Home!!! God help that man if he walked in the door and kissed me before her. She would bark and get between us and bark some more.

She knew the sound of the alarm clock: 4:30 am, time to get up. She would make sure that she positioned herself right outside the bedroom door and between the kitchen, so that you would be forced to acknowledge that she was laying there with her belly up, waiting for you to scratch her before you got your coffee. Weekends, never to sleep in. About 6-6:30, she would start "dancing" on the hardwood floors, clicking her nails, faster and more pronounced waiting for you to wake. She would walk over to my side of the bed, put her nose in the air and start sniffing, somehow she could tell if I was awake. If we rolled over and ignored her, she would headbutt the bathroom door which would then bounce off the wall with a loud THUD, then turn to look at us as if to say "are you awake yet". Gary would always then say "Go Lay Down" and she would flap here head side to side, to make her ears flap, then give a loud "humph" through her nose and and plop herself down loudly on the floor. Within minutes she would repeatedly twap her tail on the floor much like a woman clicking her nails on a table with impatience.

She never got on the furniture (thankfully) and she always welcomed you to sit with her on the floor and rub her soft ears or her belly. Sometimes we called her a "Ho dog" because she was so quick to spread her legs for a belly rub.

Every night before bed, she would go out on to the patio and bark at the world for just a few moments, perhaps her way of telling the squirrels and all the bad people that she would be on patrol. I'm unsure what she was conveying but that was her nightly ritual.

She always let you know when your phone was ringing, she would howl a song and even sing. We video-taped it many times. If I were out traveling and called Gary, I could always tell when he was home because Sugar was singing in the background.

She never climbed on the furniture but she did like the footstools that are in front of the fireplace, especially in the winter. We would light a warm toasty fire and she would hop onto the ottoman and lay there all day.

She liked her car rides and her walks. I work out of my home and she had a great sense of time of day. She always knew that the noon hour was quiet in my job and she would come in to my office, tail wagging, ready to go play. If I didn't get up quickly enough, she would come in the room, go out of the room, come in the room and out several times, always clicking her nails on the floor, in her impatience. Sometimes she just sat by the garage door or by her leash. She had a sense of humor and thankfully so do I. One day I was on a video conference call that extended beyond the noon hour. On the video, everyone saw Sugar and her tail come in to the room and appear on the screen. I muted my microphone. She didn't want her head scratched and turned her rumpus to me so I could scratch her backside, the whole time her red curly tail is sweeping back in forth of the camera. I gently asked her to give me a few minutes, she turned her head to me with that "look" and then let out a toot in my face and walked away. It took all I had to maintain my composure on my conference call.

I travel quite a great deal for my job, she hated it when I left. She knew when I pulled out the suitcase that I would be leaving. She would sulk, get very quiet and go lay on her pillow. Many evenings and mornings I would call Gary to ask about Sugar, when she heard my voice she would start howling and wailing. Facetime only seemed to make her sulk even more and most nights she would refuse to come in the house, preferring to stay alone on the patio when I traveled.

Sugar loved her car rides. She loved to hop in the back seat of my Mustang, put her head out the window and put some wind in her face. Most days of the week, she only needed a 20-30 minute ride.

In March of 2015 during her normal annual visit, her liver numbers came back excessively high. I ordered more blood tests as well as an ultrasound and in June we found out she had liver cancer. The tumor was growing deep within her liver and therefore, inoperable. She stayed upbeat and full of life until her last few days. She quit eating and became very weak. I ran her in to her vet and asked for some meds, but the Doctor told me that it was time to let her go. I start crying and told the Doctor No, it wasn't time. I took her home and hand fed her scrambled eggs and boiled chicken with rice. Sugar was too weak to stand so I fed her by hand every two - three hours, 24 hours a day. Sleeping on the couch next to the French Doors because she also developed terrible diarreaha, symptomatic of her liver dysfunction. Thankfully within 36 hours Sugars regained strength and weight! I was thrilled and kept up the dietary regiment for 4 more days. I had to go do my job on a Friday, but Gary kept with the plan. I returned Saturday afternoon to a wagging Sugar tail, but I could see that she was slow, lethargic and sad. I tried to feed her and she refused it. I tried ever few hours but she quit eating. At some point that night, I went from the couch to the bedroom. At 2 am, I woke to her face in mine. I sprung out of bed and opened the patio door thinking she had to potty, but she looked at me and walked out of the bedroom. I then thought she might finally be hungry and went to the kitchen to warm some food, but she refused it. I then turned on the kitchen light and saw that she had tears running down her left eye. She was telling me it was time to let her go. She and I laid on the floor for the next five hours. She was struggling with some pain and panting harder as the hours went by. Gary got up at 7 AM and I explained the night, we knew her time with us was nearing the end. I gave her one of her pain meds, she went out to the patio and stayed there all day, not eating nor drinking. Her diarreha stopped as well. Her pain stopped and she seemed at peace watching the birds and even the squirrels. The squirrels loved to run along the patio screen and taunt her, she would bark ferociously fur standing on end. It was a game they played out ever day. That Sunday, she watched the squirrels and they watched her, each seemingly to understand that the game was coming to an end.

She passed away on Monday, Oct 12th 2015.