In Loving Memory

This is the story of my dog. This is a lengthy history. You are more than welcome to read her story, (it is a touching one), but the purpose of this is to get her picture and story immortalized on the internet.

 

Tippi 12/1/1997-6/15/2014

 

AKA Tippi Girl

AKA Tippi Puppy Dog

AKA Tipperino

AKA Tipster

AKA Tipp

 

You often hear it said that a dog is man’s best friend. It doesn’t seem to do this dog justice. How many times have you referred to someone as your “best friend,” and find that you now have lost touch with that individual, or had some falling out, the end result always being that the individual is no longer your best friend, or, (in some cases), a friend of any kind. Tippi was always more than just a friend, and will always be remembered.

 

Her life started out hard. She was born a runt to a German Shepherd, fathered by a Labrador Retriever, into an environment that was not friendly to a dog trying to get a life started. Her first living quarters was a makeshift enclosure outdoors that was able to keep her and her siblings in, but unable to protect them from the elements. One of those elements being abusive neighbor children that threw things like rocks and snowballs at the helpless dogs. Because of this, Tippi was always leery of children.

 

She was eventually moved indoors where she lived in squalor. Due to circumstances that I won’t describe here, the man who owned the dogs, a very close friend, had little choice but to have the dogs in this place. Suffice it to say, however, that he was, at the time, trying very hard to find a new solution.

 

When I first met Tippi, she had barely opened her eyes, living in the conditions that I just described. She took to me immediately. I knew that when I was in a position to do so, I was going to take one of the dogs from the litter as my own, at the very least to get it out of that situation. At that moment, I was undecided as to which one, though I was leaning toward the runt that seemed smarter and calmer than the rest.

 

One of the times that I visited the dogs, my friend called me in to show me that all the dogs from the litter were in one place and he said, “Watch this.” He began to howl, and all the dogs, of course, looked up at him with that sort of confused, head cocked to one side look. One of them, however, began to respond with a noise of its own. It was a cute little, high-pitched, whiny noise but was otherwise obviously a howl. It was Tippi. I knew then that my choice had been made.

 

I had not yet found myself in the position to take on the dog, but I became impatient and decided that then was the time to become a dog owner anyway. I took her in. The conditions that I lived in at the time weren’t spectacular, but they were a far cry better than from where I was taking her. So I brought her into my apartment. An apartment, I might add, that doesn’t allow dogs. With a roommate, I might add, that didn’t care for dogs.

 

This quickly became a challenge.

 

Tippi, not even six months old, had to learn to live by a schedule. She also, for the first time in her life, had to learn that she couldn’t use the floor as a bathroom. She had to eat at the same time, go outside at the same time, and live in my bedroom when I wasn’t there. We lived on the second floor, so she had to go down stairs three times a day, (or any other time in between if she seemed like she needed it), to go outside. Trying to hide the fact that you own a dog isn’t easy when the dog is afraid of stairs and you have to take her down stairs at least three times a day.

 

Needless to say, we were discovered. I had to get rid of Tippi. Luckily, I have about the best parents a man could ever ask for, and they agreed to take my pup into their home until I could change my own living situation. A bond was quickly formed. My parents loved the little pup, and the little pup loved them in return. Any time that my parents or my brother would visit, Tippi was always excited to see them. In the last weeks of her life, Tippi saw my mom and treated her with the same reverence that she did during the time she lived in their house. The love shared by Tippi and my family never faded.

 

When my lease was up, I moved back home for two reasons. First, to take care of my dog. Second, and equally important, to build up some money to marry my girlfriend of four years.

 

I lived with my parents for two years, and during that time, my relationship with my parents grew to what it is today. There is a time that one reaches in life when your parents are no longer your caregivers. They become friends. I also spent those two years bringing Tippi up from a pup into a young dog. There is a time that one reaches with a dog when they are no a longer a responsibility. They also become friends.

 

When those two years were up, I married my wife, and when we returned from our honeymoon, we moved into our new apartment. We brought Tippi into our new home and she went from being a pet to being a family pet. The new mantle suited her well. My wife and Tippi had already formed a bond from the days when Tippi was living in my first apartment, but the two became inseparable when they lived under the same roof. There were many times that I would come home late from pool league to find the two curled up on the couch, or to find my wife asleep in bed with Tippi laying next to her. There were also many times that my wife and I would both be sitting on the couch and Tippi would invariably be laying right there between us. We were a family.

 

During the first year we spent in our apartment, we made the unfortunate discovery that our three year old dog was suffering from the early stages of hip dysplasia. We put her on medication and she seemed to quickly recover.

 

 

We were already aware of Tippi’s love for toys, but we didn’t realize how much they meant to her until we got into the apartment. Tippi had a basket in the corner of the living room that held all her toys, and we bought her many. She would pull out whatever toy she wanted to play with and we would play with her, and then she would grab another or just stop. She never took her toys and just chewed on them. Of all the toys that she had, never did she destroy one. We also discovered that we could tell her what toy to grab and she would walk over and get that one. She would sometimes sniff the toy that we mentioned, and then grab another. She was just in the mood to play with a different toy, but she could distinguish between her toys by their name. As she grew, she lost interest in her toys, but during the time that we spent in the apartment, they were clearly very important to her.

 

The only time I ever saw Tippi bear her teeth was while we were living in that apartment. Tippi had become accustomed to a backyard in my parents’ home, but had to change her routine once more. She had to learn to go to the bathroom on a leash. At first she rejected the idea. Then we got a retractable leash that gave her fifty feet, and she reluctantly made the compromise. One particular time we were outside, a large golden retriever came running up to me. As far as I knew, the dog was harmless and just wanted to visit, but Tippi wasn’t quite so convinced. When she saw that dog running up to me, she closed that fifty feet in a rush and before the dog could get within ten feet of me, Tippi was there in between me and that dog, snarling and barking. Her hackles were raised, her posture was aggressive and she was making the manliest growls she could muster. The dog tried to sidestep her a few times, but she was there, making warning lunges and snapping her formidable teeth. The dog, which was twice my runt’s size, I might add, eventually lost interest in getting torn up by this insane adversary, and went the opposite direction. Tippi attentively watched the dog until it went out of sight around the corner of another apartment building, then turned around and began licking my face with enthusiasm bordering on urgency. Tippi already had my love, but that day, she gained my respect.

 

During her time in our apartment, my wife and I went on vacation. My brother stayed and watched our apartment as well as Tippi. One night when he was out, lightning struck the building next to ours and burned to the ground. There was a lot of noise and confusion and undoubtedly, for Tippi, the smell of smoke. The firemen wouldn’t let my brother anywhere near our apartment even to get Tippi out. It should be mentioned, at this point, that my brother harbored both a deep love for my dog, and an unshakable intolerance for official authority figures, so the crew’s resolve was certainly tested that night. Poor Tippi had to endure the entire ordeal alone and from that day, was deathly terrified of thunder.

 

After living two years in the apartment, my wife and I decided it was time to become homeowners. Tippi had a backyard again. She could not have been more thrilled. She would spend hours out there with no interest in coming inside. She would spend her time chasing squirrels, barking at anyone who came within her line of sight, and rolling around in anything she could find as long as it smelled absolutely terrible.

 

While inside she liked to lay in front of the back window to keep an eye on her claim, or in a corner of a couch in the basement that she had also claimed as her own. Life for her could not be better. That would not last.

 

About three years after we moved into our house, another situation arrived with a dog that did not have a good life and was either going to be moved to a good home, or she was going to be put to sleep by the dog pound. I am unable to ignore that. We brought in our second dog. We have no idea what kind of dog she was, the previous owners could tell us nothing to make the determination easier. In much the same way, we could only make an educated guess at her age. She was small and long and black and undeniably cute. She was raised by cats so she had some very funny mannerisms for a dog. Her name was Dixie.

 

Dixie quickly took over the house, and for the most part, Tippi allowed it. There were a few activities that Tippi refused to change, though. Like chasing the neighbor dog up and down the fence. When Dixie would try to stop that from happening, Tippi would just knock her down. The other activity that Tippi would not compromise was getting attention from us. She would compete enthusiastically with Dixie for that. Otherwise, Dixie got whatever she wanted.

 

To make matters worse for our poor dog, three years into Dixie’s life, another life entered our home. This one was a little baby that I have come to affectionately know as The Munch. Our daughter. Tippi had no idea what to do with herself. Not only had another dog taken over her house, but now one of those child things was living here. Tippi was curious while The Munch was a baby, but became terrorized when she began to walk. Tippi, who never shook her distrust for children, never actually did warm up to my daughter, always staying just out of arm’s reach. But, adorably, Tippi would walk up and sniff her when she wasn’t looking, or quickly lick her hand while The Munch had her attention elsewhere. We have found Tippi sleeping on the floor in The Munch’s room while The Munch slept, as well as sleeping outside her room when The Munch was staying somewhere else for the night. The first time we left the house and returned without our child, Tippi was clearly distressed. The point being, that our dog was leery of children, but loved our daughter.

 

Unfortunately, three years after The Munch was born, we made the discovery that Dixie had a brain tumor. After six short years of life, Dixie’s condition worsened until she lost all control of her body. We had to mourn the loss of our other runt. Tippi outlived a younger dog, and we feared what effect this would have on her. In many cases, when one dog dies in a two-dog house, the other declines quickly and you end up with a no-dog house. In our case, Tippi came to life. She seemed to find peace in the home again. She laid wherever she wanted to lay, ate whatever she wanted to eat, went wherever she wanted to go, and, yes, was able to chase the neighbor dog up and down the fence without having to knock over another dog. Completely unexpected, but Tippi was glad that, for whatever reason, she had the house to herself again.

 

We can take a hint. We did not replace Dixie.

 

The last four years of Tippi’s life have been relatively uneventful. She became lazier, though she would still jump up and run around when it was time to eat, and for a while still seemed to enjoy going outside and sitting at the top of the deck steps to stare out at her yard for who knows how long. Eventually, though, if she wasn’t eating, she preferred to lay on her favorite bed next to the back door and sleep. The problems with her back legs became more frequent and we knew that our time was running thin.

 

On June 11, 2014, my wife and I left for Schaumburg, Illinois for my first ever LEGO convention. BrickWorld. We arrived and my excitement was at about as high a level as one can expect from a grown man. We were in Schaumburg for less than a day when we received word from one of our best friends that Tippi was having trouble walking. Despite my excitement, I felt so far from home. Although I had made a commitment to not only the gentleman that I was collaborating with but to myself to make this experience the best it could be, my mind was at home. Next to my backdoor. Where I knew my Tippi was lying. I would build and I would set up and I would talk to my fellow builders and the public that walked through to enjoy our wares, but when I was away from anything to keep my mind occupied, I thought of my dog. I had to leave early on the last public day from BrickWorld to rush home to our dog. When we arrived, we found a dog that had lost all use of her back legs and was quickly losing the use of her front legs. She didn’t even lift her head when she saw me.

 

We had been dreading this day. I knew it had arrived.

 

On June 15, 2014, Father’s Day, Tippi died. She lived to be better than 16 years of age. She survived harsh living conditions, a small black terror of a dog, and The Munch. She saw a better life than how she entered the world and made life better for those who knew her. She was loved intensely and loved intensely in return.

 

She will always be remembered.

 

Done