RE: [pyrnet] Gotta love those quirky Pyrs - Finally feeling alittle bit of humor

It is nice not feel guilty for coming off as a cheap skate.
We all agree on the price of fuel and dog food and there is only one thing worse: Not having to buy it all.

Our ten-year old Pyr died the day after Christmas. The day prior he stood there like a champ while the grandkids decorated him like a Christmas tree and covered him with stuffed animals, foam peanuts and garland. His name was Fermat. We like numbers and classical music and tend to name our dogs after mathematicians and composers. Pierre Fermat is famous for a seemingly simple, yet difficult theorem for which there is no solution.

Fermat was great when I would cry after losing clumps of my hair in the shower and still smelled like a hobo anyway. When I fought off images of me looking like a pale, bloated Aunt Jemima with that thing on her head, I would bury my head in his furry neck. He let me blubber until I was spent. Then he’d roll over, paws extended, with an expectant look on his face and patiently wait for his rubs on the tumbly. No, he didn’t lick and guard me the way he did with our aging Newf (the Newf said Pyr terrorized during the Pyr terrible twos...threes…and fours.). Nor did he bury his head in my lap like Lassie (Our Pyrs aren’t exactly Old Yeller.). Rather, he was constant and solid throughout one of the worst times of my life.

One of the happiest times in my life was when I took a year off work to study for the CPA exam. He tried to sleep when I wanted to play and he’d bark like crazy when I tried to sleep. We both lost a tooth when I tried to teach him to be ‘combat ready’ in the house. I was filled with triumph and pride when I taught him to heel. Yet, he never failed to embarrass me in front of those select passersby he intuitively knew watch too much Dog Whisperer.

I just had to see that Pyr monkey face once again, so we visited our breeder on Sunday (Lynn Gomm, Summerhill Kennel, S. Texas). I tried to get my husband to create a diversion so I could sneak one her Pyrs. “She won’t know,” I coaxed. “Pyrs roam!” I teased. “ If you follow my lead she’ll be none the wiser.” We left empty handed but less broken hearted.

I have grieved with fellow dog lovers and shared their anger when we hear it’s “just a dog.” But I wanted to share with those who know what it’s like to lose a piece of their soul. With those who know a Pyr isn’t “just any dog.”

Love to all,

Christine and Jonathan Schmidt

PS. Ordered When Only the Love Remains: The Pain of Pet Loss by Stuparyk from Amazon. Doubt I’ll mind a poem or two about pet loss I once deemed hokey.