A
MEMORIAL TO BOOTIE
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On January 10, 2007 I put my old Dachshund, Bootie, down.
It was an agonizing decision for me right up to the end.
I prayed for weeks that he would comfortably go to sleep
and not wake up, but it wasn't meant to be. My ultimate
act of being his mommy was to do the right thing for him
and for me.
I never wanted a weenie dog but boy did he certainly grow
on me. Bootie, BJ, Sweet Muffin, The Bootser or simply The
Man all different names either we used or those who were
close used to refer to him. And 18 years of life holds
a lot of memories. He was far more than "just a dog".
He was my "best medicine" (laughter!). Regardless
of what he was doing, he was always a source of amusement.
He hunted rocks, beat dogs twice his size in dog races, played
"catch 'em up" with Brian and rooted in the mud.
There are many stories that can bring a smile but one of the most
memorable involves his favorite food (carnitas!) and pizza.
When we first moved to Ballico, we had a group of guys over to
help move the outside stuff and horse panels. I bought a
couple of huge pizzas (the pieces are extremely large) - and we
fed them after the move. We ended up having some left over
- and eventually had to throw it in the garbage. I had it
in the can inside and Brian and I went to a local Mexican
restaurant for dinner. One (or both of us) had carnitas
- and I had some leftover in a container that I brought home.
When we came in the door, Bootie got extremely excited - he *knew*
it was carnitas and usually I gave him a little. When I
walked into the kitchen the garbage was knocked over and strewn
everywhere. I told him he wasn't getting a treat - since
he'd already helped himself w/ the garbage (and was worried about
him 'cause I knew there was pizza in there and didn't know how
much he ate).
We went in the living room and at the time, our couch was against
the wall. Bootie disappeared behind it - and came backing
out dragging this huge piece of pizza that he'd hidden there.
He drug it over to where I was sitting, set it down in front of
me - and sat down. It was one of those moments you remember
just because in his mind it was a trade. His hidden pizza
treasure - for carnitas.
He was my protector. Bootie traveled with me on the road
for 8 years when I was doing outside sales and driving a Class
A truck and trailer around. Everywhere I went he
went and while I was working with my accounts, he'd sit in the
truck. On the warm days, I always left the windows rolled
down and the truck parked in the shade with my purse sitting
on the floor. He was a classic land shark. He'd sit
patiently with only his head peeking over the window very innocently
watching things around him. If someone came by and tried
to either pet him or stick their hand in the truck, he'd wait
motionless until they were in reach, then snap and bark
catching the culprit quite off balance.
At the time, I was working off
commission and unfortunately staying at less than optimal motels
to save expenses. Bootie was small but loud (when
necessary) and he wasn't a yapper he meant business.
With his size and build, he could adeptly jump just the right
height at just the right angle to make most any male
back off. On one road trip, I was staying at the EZ 8 Motel
in Bakersfield and had a confrontation with a guy who had apparently
seen me go into my room. He called me several times on the
phone, and then showed up at my door. By that time, I was
so irritated I was ready to hit him where it counts. When
he knocked on the door, I picked up Bootie and answered prepared
for a fight. Imagine facing a pissed off red-head holding
a snarling weapon of a wiener dog BOTH ready to knock you
on your ass. Needless to say, he didn't attempt much conversation.
And, Bootie just watched over me in general. He was always
there. When his hearing started to dissipate several years
ago he still watched and looked as best as he could.
I am certain he would have risked his life for me regardless of
the opponent.
He was my confidant and friend. As anyone knows who is close
to a dog, they listen and never judge. Bootie was always
there and he was a sponge for tears on many occasions.
I don't know if he ever really understood the words, but he most
definitely understood the emotion. He helped me through
my brother-in-law's death, the passing of my grandfather, the
death of our stud, my horse's surgery and numerous other ailments
and deaths. Mostly, though, he was my quiet support whenever
I needed a "shoulder" (his head, really) to cry on.
He also was the keeper of my inner most thoughts and unlike Duke
of the baked beans fame would NEVER have sold me out. 
As far as being support, I remember one time in particular his
presence helped me through a difficult time. My grandfather
in Fresno was dying of cancer and I made one to two trips south
each week after work to visit and have dinner. On most of
the occasions I took Bootie especially since Don enjoyed
seeing him. We'd go out and eat Thai food and Bootie would
stay nestled in the backseat of the car sleeping under covers.
Don always saved his fortune cookie for Bootie and, although
it didn't rank up there with carnitas or French fries, Bootie
enjoyed the treat.
One particular night, the fog started rolling in even before it
got dark. I left Fresno as early as possible but it was dark and
the fog was settled in before 8 o'clock. It was probably
the scariest drive I've ever made but Bootie laid next to me in
the car and just being able to reach across and pet him helped
me keep down the panic attack and stay calm. His quiet
strength and just "being" were support enough.
He was my interior decorator. Some of this was by default and
not really his doing but occurred because of what he was.
Over the years, because of my developing love of dachshunds, I've
accumulated an eclectic collection of weenie dog items that were
either purchased by me or given to me by friends & family.
My window sill is covered with a variety of small statues;
I have a weenie dog clock; a "hot diggity dog" collection;
coasters, pillows and assorted other items. If I walked
through the door after shopping and said "Look what I found!"
my husband invariably knew it would be none other than a new dachshund
item to collect dust in the house.
Some decorating Bootie did on his own. He rearranged rugs.
He messed up the covers in order to optimize a nest for himself.
He'd hide stolen bits of food in the corners of the house.
In his earlier years he'd disappear around 8:30 or 9 at night
and we'd invariably find him already in bed on his back
under the covers with his head laying on a pillow and his front
feet hanging over the top of the covers. When we joined him in
bed, he only weighed about 17 pounds but for a little guy
he certainly took up a lot of room. That dachshund length
could take up at least half of the bed and most of the time
he respected MY space, and encroached horizontally on Brian's.
One Christmas I was industrious and did a lot of baking.
I had a tiered plate of cookies and candies on the dining room
table and my sister was staying with us for the holidays.
We left in the afternoon to visit relatives and returned
several hours later. The plate was virtually empty and I
assumed my sister had gone on a sweets binge. That was,
until the next morning when I started vacuuming. Nearly
every corner of the house had a piece of fudge or cookie "hidden"
in it. Not exactly MY choice of holiday decorating but
Bootie certainly was proud of himself.
As he aged, I "decorated" for him. I covered the
kitchen in various rugs so he wouldn't slip when he tottered around
and also so if he DID need to go to the bathroom and I wasn't
around, the rubber-backed rugs would absorb it and I could easily
throw them in the wash.
He was so much more. Bootie never asked for anything back,
he always gave his unconditional love. He traveled with
us everywhere. As he aged we never went anywhere that wouldn't
accept him (our hotel mantra dogs allowed!).
He made it to his 18th birthday (and I'm so glad we had the party
at Bakersfield) and he made it through this last Christmas.
The last several months had been tough, only exceeded by the last
couple of weeks. Up until the last several days, I hadn't
slept through the night for about two years. I'm sure everyone
around me could see the end winding down but it's hard for Mommies
to let go. And, I didn't want to make "the decision".
Sometimes, it takes the strength of those closest
to us to open our eyes and give us the courage to move forward.
And, in a way, losing my job in October was a godsend.
It allowed me an additional two months to spend with him AND the
freedom to struggle with my emotions when the time did come. 
I don't consider myself lucky in that I had to decide when to
end it all but I am glad I had to opportunity to orchestrate
the last day. I dressed him warmly in a sweater my sister
knit for him and bundled him in the car. We took a last
road trip to McDonald's. We ate my French fries on
the way home then sat in the backyard in the warm sun and I shared
my hamburger with him. My horse vet came to the house to
perform the final act and I stayed with him till the end.
We did have him cremated and he's resting in a beautiful
"special" black & white box. Funny, it has
a ribbon sewn around it which makes it resemble a present.
It's fitting since Bootie really was a gift.
Last June, we acquired another dachshund purely by chance.
She needed a home and even though we didn't know it at the time,
we needed her. Thankfully, my friend recognized that need
and pushed for me to take her. Vyolet is definitely
not Bootie but I'm fortunate we have her now.
Bootie's gone but his memory will live forever. The final
days were probably some of the most painful I've ever endured
but the wonderful 18 years of life he shared with us were
worth it.
I miss you Bootie but we will be together again some day.
Diane
Brian
and Diane Alves Paint Horses
(209)
394-2940
