Today my sweet baby Katie-Cakes, aka The Cakers, aka Caker Pies, aka My Little Black Barrel with Legs, will have been gone two months. I am trying my best to remember the good images--sliding down the carpeted ramp on her butt, sitting on her butt and spinning for her other Mom and me, getting caught in forbidden territory in the yard and streaking back to Mom with that precious tongue hanging out, naps next to Wee, sleeping on her back and snoring like crazy, settling into my left hand after lights out so that I could rub her ears and then going to sleep with my hand on her back, that funny little jerk that meant tummy rubs, playing patty-cakes on the bed, that quack-a-duck bark to tell Patch Man what to do, her excitement over crumbled up treats, her stacks of little stuffed toys that she wanted but never played with, frogging on the bed, and helping Wee help Mom make the bed so that she could be first on the clean covers....
Katie had had a happy, good ten days, full of energy and adventure, before she woke up coughing really badly. Sometimes she faked a cough for attention, but this was different. The doc said she had fluid around her heart and he gave her a shot of lasix. That perked her up really well for two or three more days, but when we started on it orally, it didn’t go so well. She ran out of steam.
She like to look out from a taller perspective from my arms, and I always picked her up, especially in the yard, so that she could see more of the world. She liked to sit with her back feet in my hand and her head under my chin and that is the way she passed, so quietly, next to my heart, that I didn’t even realize it. I had told her that I loved her, holding her next to me that morning, and I had rubbed her little tummy and kissed her little head as she lay against me.
I will take her Christmas tree down today and put her angel by the beautiful little box that holds her ashes. I have her sweater there and her Easter bandanna and her collars there and the bear and bandanna I got her for Christmas that she never got to see. Her little bitty moose with the red scarf is there, too. I know she is okay and wouldn’t be so happy about Mom crying every day, but I miss her more than I can say. I had a special connection with Katie--One of my friends said that she was a “very special spirit in the guise of a small dog.” That she was, but most of all, she was my sweet baby Katie--missing from our home but not from my heart. Caker Pies, may you bless the angels with your spirit as you have blessed ours. You are in your Mom’s heart forever. I love you.
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