Journal 2018


From the minute I brought Foxy home he was the model of puppy perfection! And not only was he

as cute as a button, but smart too. When it came to his training it was as if he wrote the book on the

subject, and I was only giving him a quiz. He slept through the night, never got into anything, came when called, and stayed put when commanded to do so. Even when he was left in the car he would never bark, cry, or get into trouble. When it came to his potty training, it took hardly any time at all.


Our first morning together, and right after we woke up, I took him outside to go potty. He went without any coaxing or waiting. I told him what a good boy he was, and showered him with praise for going. He quickly learnt what to do, and never had an accident in the house or car. One day I found him scratching on the front door, I had guessed he had wanted to go potty. So I told him, while taking his paw and scratching it on the door, “No, Foxy, no scratch. Bark ‘Arf–arf’ when you need to go out.” I took him out to the grass, he went, and we returned inside. From there on, be it the front or back doors, he never scratched on them again. "WOW," I thought to myself, if all puppies are this easy to train, then why are people complaining about it?


Here are some puppy photos of him, up until only a few months before he left to join Valley to be with God.



This page is about Foxy Shadow

             Who was a wonderful dog. 

When he was a young dog we were almost inseparable.  As a news reporter for the Southern Oregon News, I would often take him with me when finding and covering a story.  Foxy  would be right there making friends as I was working.  Even those who were shy, when having their photos taken, would be willing to do so as long as Foxy was with them.  His smile and cheerful attitude made him an easy dog to love. 


It was on my birthday when I noticed a hole in Foxy's chest. I called up All Creatures, and made an appointment to have it looked at. It turned out to be nothing, however, when I asked about the blue haze over his eyes, the vet became silent. After looking over his eyes, she told me that she needed to do a test, and would be right back. Waiting there without knowing what's happening was hard to do, and after about ten or so minutes she returned with him.


"The test came out positive. Foxy has diabetes," she said.


I stood there in shock, for I never emagained animals could get this. "What must I do for him?" I asked.


She told me to take Foxy home, and wait for her call.


On the drive home I thought what a rotten thing to happen on my birthday. Then the Holy Spirit corrected me on this. In reality what better gift could I receive than to know Foxy's ill, and not lose him to death? The Spirit was right, this was a wonderful gift.


I sat by the phone waiting for it to ring, just as you would see in a movie, only this was real life. When it finally did, I was told to come, and pick up a prescription for insulin, along with a bottle of test strips. I was to give him his first shot as soon as I returned home.

 The reason why she asked me to take Foxy home, and wait for the phone call, was so they could test to see just how bad was his sugar level, and what insulin would be best for him. That night I taught myself how to give shots. He was very good, and allowed me to mess up now and again, and without even a yap from being upset with me. It was if knowing what I was doing would help him to feel better.


Each morning, and at the same time, we would start the day with a urine test, followed with a shot. Then each night it was the same. Yet throughout it all, Foxy remained a true gentleman. The only time he cried during a shot was if I accidently hit a muscle. This was to be the same routine we would follow for the rest of his life. However, I made sure the shot was followed by a treat, one okayed by the vet.


in December of 2014 it was evident that his time was soon at hand. But first I

wanted to take him on our last walk, and to do this in his favorite park. When

arriving I stopped the car, and as I removed him from the front seat he knew

exactly where he was from just sniffing the air. I gently placed him onto the

sidewalk, and he started on ahead of me. There was excitement in his step as

he held his head up high. His pace wasn't as fast as in his younger years, but

he was doing very well. However, halfway around the park's pathway he was

much too tired to continue on. So I picked him up, and from there on I carried

him. We visited the War Memorial alongside the park, which was our norm

when on walks together, and then back to the car. He relaxed in the front seat

as I him drove him back home.

          It's Hard to Say Goodbye, and to Let Go



In his senior years his medical problems had escalated to not only having diabetes, but also being deaf, blind, arthritis, water around his heart, seizures and more. Even with all this he still lived a long and happy life. Toward the end I told him that when he felt it was time to return to our Heavenly Father, just let me know, and I will do what is needed. I never thought this day would arrive, but it did. Foxy was still full of life, but he now had an ulcer in his eye, and even his pain pills weren't able to keep him comfortable. I could see it was time, and I had to face reality.


At 8: a.m., December 15th, 2014, I had to make a call that cut me to the core. When the receptionist at All Creatures Animal Hospital answered the phone, I was glad when she placed me on hold. This gave me a chance to compose myself, and hopefully be able to speak without crying. She returned, and asked if I had been helped. I replied that I was calling to have my Foxy put to sleep. She seemed to understand what I was going through, and softly said that I was to have him there at 11:30 AM. to be seen by Dr. Tom. I told her that he would be there.


Being my car was in the shop, my dear friend Glenda Taylor had offered to drive us to the vet if needed when the time came. I called, and whispered, "It's time." She knew at once what I was telling her, and then my tears started to flow. "I'll be right there. Have you called the vet's office yet?" she asked. There was a long pause, and then I replied, "Yes, they know we're coming."

After we hung up the phone, it didn't take long before Glenda's car pulled into my driveway.

After I  climbed inside,   she then handed Foxy to me,  and I held him  securely  in my arms. 

Life has a way of slowing down with age,  and when the time comes to end it all,   most are 

most are ready to go. I had to remind myself that soon Foxy's spirit would be free from his

ailing body, and he would find peace. 


During the short drive,  my mind went over all the  'lasts'  we had taken  during  these  final  weeks  together.  They were

soon to become precious memories, ones that would have to last until through my passing we would be reunited again. Such as our walks, Easter, birthdays, the 4th of July, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.  Christmas, it hit me hard that last year had been his last. Thankfully, it was a good one. I smiled at the thought of us watching fireworks  at the Central Point Fairgrounds each 4th of July. And how he would sniff the holiday decorations, as if to give me his approval regarding them. These sweet memories would always keep him with me.  When I looked up, I saw we were approaching the Animal Hospital, it was then I held him just a little tighter to my heart.


When we arrived the waiting area was packed. Once checking in I took a seat far away from the reception desk, and held Foxy on my lap. Many of those waiting for their turn commented on what a cute dog I have. I thanked them while fighting back the tears. One finally asked what Foxy was being seen for. I told her that he’s old, and with a lot of medical conditions that are causing him to go rapidly downhill. If there wasn’t any chance of helping him with his pain and stress, then I wanted him to return to our Heavenly Father. Those in ear shot were surprised to hear this, for he looked so happy and at peace. They felt with a smile on his face, he can’t be all that bad off. Well, Poms, like Samoyed dogs, always have a smile.


“Foxy,” called the receptionist. I stiffened up, and didn’t want to go into the examining room. Thankfully it was another owner who stood up, and took her dog toward the open room. ‘Good, I still get a few more minutes with you, Foxy,’ I whispered. However, she and her dog soon returned to the waiting room, and sat back down. The receptionist again called out for Foxy, only this time she said, “Foxy Stamper”. There was no mistake, it was our turn to go inside the room.


“Are you going to be alright?” asked Glenda as I stood up. “Hopefully I’ll be fine,” I replied. “If you would like, you can come in there with us.”

Dr. Tom, the owner of the clinic, walked into the room at the same time as we did. After looking at Foxy’s chart, he started examining him. “He’s in pain. Did you know this?”


“He’s on two types of pain medication,” I replied. “I give it to him twice a day.”


“His eye has been hurting for some time now. It would be like having a foxtail in your eye,” explained Dr. Tom.


“I’ve been putting drops in his eye to help with it,” I explained.


“He has a lot wrong with him. And you said that he’s having more seizures than before?” he asked.


“Yes, he has been.”


“Why didn’t you let us know so he could have been put on medication for them?” he asked.


The vet who had been taking care of Foxy knew about these seizures, and hadn't prescribed anything for them. However, Dr. Tom wasn’t aware of it, and I wasn’t in the mood to defend my actions.


“We can give him seizure medication to help with that," said Dr. Tom. "There’s medication we can use in his eye, but that will take weeks if not months to clear up. He’s not doing well, and even with all this he may not make it. I can’t tell you what to do, it’s up to you, but if he were my dog, I’d release him of all this pain, and put him down.”


“I don’t want him to suffer,” I said while looking into Foxy’s eyes. “If he’s hurting that bad, then I must let him go.”


“Does this mean you’re taking him back home with you to die? Do you want to put him down here, or are you asking for us to treat him?” asked Dr. Tom.


“I want you to put him down, and release him from this pain,” I said without emotion. I had wanted to scream, "I want him well, and to take him home!!!" But this wasn't going to happen, so I bit my lip to keep from crying. If I had started to cry, then Foxy would have known something was wrong, and that would have upset him even more.

“Do you want us to take him into another room to do this?” asked Dr. Tom.


Looking up at him, I replied, “No, I don’t want him more frightened than he already is. Is there I chair I can sit in as I hold him?”


Dr. Tom pulled over a chair, and I sat down in it with Foxy in my lap.


Dr. Tom left the room, and soon returned with electric clippers, and a syringe filled with medication. When he took Foxy by his front, right leg, and started shaving him, Foxy freaked out.


“Foxy, its okay. I’m here, and I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” When saying this he relaxed, and allowed Dr. Tom to continue.


Dr. Tom managed to shave the little spot where he would soon place in the needle. “Dorene, Foxy will tighten up when I put in the needle, he will then start to drift off, then totally relax, and then go limp. Once limp, this will mean that he has passed on.”


It went just as he had said. When the needle went into Foxy’s front leg, he quickly tightened up. I kept telling him how much I love him, and that I’ll miss him terribly. He soon relaxed, and then went limp. Dr. Tom removed him from my arms, and placed him on the examining table. With a stethoscope he checked for a heartbeat. We talked for about five minutes, and he checked him again. This went on for another three times, until Dr. Tom said, “He’s gone. I wanted to make sure, for I didn’t want you to go home, and find him lingering onto life.”


During this time I had been sobbing into Foxy’s coat, while saying over and over, “I want my Foxy back, I want him with me, I want him back. But this is for the best, but I still want him. He had to go, I don’t want him to suffer.”


As Dr. Tom started to leave the room, he looked at me, and then said to Glenda, “She needs a puppy. Someone has to get her a puppy.”


The drive home was a sad and quiet one. I rode in the backseat next to the box that held Foxy’s body. My emotions were so tender that I dared not  cry, otherwise I may not stop. We pulled up to my home, and Glenda carried the box into the house for me, and then placed it on the entry hall table.


“Are you going to be okay?” she asked.


“I hope so,” I replied. “There are a few people that I need to call. Can you help me?”


“Yes. Who is it that you have to call?”


“My daughter, Cindy needs to know. Then there’s the breeder who bred Foxy. I told her that I would let her know when he passed on.” As I tried to make the call to the breeder, I choked up when hearing her answer the phone. I couldn’t handle it, so I passed the phone over the Glenda. Once through I had her call up Cindy, and tell her I would call her a little later, once I’m less emotional.


Glenda had things to do that morning, so once she was sure I was okay, she left.


I walked over to the box, opened it up, and there was Foxy’s lifeless body. I slowly removed him from the box, and wrapped him up in a towel. While holding him close, I picked up the phone, and headed into the front room. There I sat down in one of the two green chairs as I called up my daughter. We talked while I held Foxy. “I now understand why a mother, when losing her child, will insist on holding it,” I said, “It gives them comfort, as if their child is but sleeping.” After about an hour we hung up


A short time later I called up Dan Cake. He and his wife Jeannette are close friends of mine. Jeannette answered the phone, and I told her what had taken place. I then asked if Dan could please help me bury Foxy. She said that Dan wasn’t home, but she would call him on his cell phone, and knew he would be there to help me ASAP. Within the hour Dan was at my home. He carried the box containing Foxy's body out to the end of our little park. I showed him where I would like the grave to be, and he started to dig. He dug a hole about four-feet down, and then gently placed Foxy within it.  The grave is located at the foot of an old oak tree, where at times he would like to sit.

An hour or so later, when I was all alone, it started to drizzle. With an umbrella in hand, I made my way out to the grave site, and stood there to cry. And did this several times throughout the night, until sleep took hold of me. 


Cindy had told her brothers what had happened.  And one by one they called me on the phone, all wanting to know how I was doing. A few asked if I would like for them to help me get another Pomeranian puppy. I told them that I would.


Upon Foxy's passing I had several 8" x 10" photos of him printed up at Costco, and had them taped up all over the house. Doing this made me feel as if he were still with me. But it wasn't working, and my sorrow was only growing deeper. 



Back in September of 2000, while I was away shopping, someone entered onto my property, and ended the life of my sweet Pomeranian. She had been a rescue dog from the SPCA, and only five-years of age at the time. I had named her Valentine Lady, Valley for short. A few days after her death the police called to let me know that it had been a satanic cult responsible for her ritualistic sacrifice. I was devastated to say the least. I had been asked how anyone could commit such an atrocity to an innocent dog. But I didn't have an answer, only that they did. And yet history is filled with horrible events that cause us to wonder where such hate could come from.


I cried for weeks as the vision of Valley's last minutes on earth went through my mind. I could see her terrified while in the hands of these awful people, and I'm nowhere near to save her. And then the intense pain she had suffered before death released her of it. To me what made this world a safe and peaceful place to be, had now come to an end. If I could have shut myself away from it all, that would have been my desire.


Then come October my daughter, Cindy, called saying, "Mom, you've cried long enough. Go find yourself another puppy, and it will be your birthday gift."


The visions of Valley were still fresh in my mind, however, the thought of a sweet, ball of fluff bouncing about my feet brought hope back into my world.


I put posts on every billboard I could find, in hopes of finding a Pomeranian puppy. A few days later I received a phone call in response. There was a litter of Pom puppies, and I had been invited to come and meet them. The lady's name is Bini Wallis, the owner of Skyline Poms of Oregon . . . . https://www.facebook.com . She only had two sixteen-week old puppies left to show me, however, that didn't matter, because I fell in love with the little sable puppy.


Once home I named him Foxy, being he resembled a Disney fox cub cartoon. And when he started following me everywhere I went, I added 'Shadow' onto his name. The healing process began. I would never forget my sweet Valley, but now I had a new puppy that would take up my time, and to shower TLC on.


For more regarding Foxy, you must go to his page for the full story. It's a sad one, however, he was a one of a kind dog. And I miss him very much.

.

Back in September of 2000, while I was away shopping, someone entered onto my property, and ended the life of my sweet Pomeranian. She had been a rescue dog from the SPCA, and only five-years of age at the time. I had named her Valentine Lady, Valley for short. A few days after her death the police called to let me know that it had been a satanic cult responsible for her ritualistic sacrifice. I was devastated to say the least. I had been asked how anyone could commit such an atrocity to an innocent dog. But I didn't have an answer, only that they did. And yet history is filled with horrible events that cause us to wonder where such hate could come from.


I cried for weeks as the vision of Valley's last minutes on earth went through my mind. I could see her terrified while in the hands of these awful people, and I'm nowhere near to save her. And then the intense pain she had suffered before death released her from it. To me what made this world a safe and peaceful place had now come to an end. If I could have shut myself away from it all, that would have been my desire.


Then come October my daughter, Cindy, called saying, "Mom, you've cried long enough. Go find yourself another puppy, and it will be your birthday gift."


The visions of Valley were still fresh in my mind, however, the thought of a sweet, ball of fluff bouncing about my feet brought hope back into my world.


I put posts on every billboard I could find, in hopes of finding a Pomeranian puppy. A few days

later I received a phone call in response. There was a litter of Pom puppies, and I had been invited

to come and meet them. The lady's name is Bini Wallis, the owner of Skyline Poms of Oregon . . . .


                                                                           https://www.facebook.com


She only had two sixteen-week old puppies left to show me, however, that didn't matter, because I

fell in love with the little sable male puppy.


Once home I named him Foxy, being he resembled a Disney fox cub cartoon. And when he started

following me everywhere I went, I added 'Shadow' onto his name. The healing process began. I

would never forget my sweet Valley, bt now I had a new puppy that would take up my time, and to

shower TLC on.



  





This is the grave of Foxy Shadow..

Click on the lantern to return to the top of the page.

A week later my son David, and his wife Margie, asked if I knew of any Pomeranian puppies for sale.  I told them that I did. They said for me to let them know where it is, and they would give it to me for my Christmas gift.  So into my heart bounced a little ball of fluff, one I named Prince Pippin the Buffy Knight. Pippin was truly my Knight, and saved me from my sorrows.