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CUBBY (a.k.a.. Chubby)    1999 - 2015

I will always remember Cubby as a sweet, goofy, loveable dog.   When he first came to join Gimli, my first Westie, and I, he was 14.  I could not  imagine an old dog ripped from his home at his age so I felt that I would try to give him a good end of life.
Cubby had some issues because of his past abuse.  The second day here, he refused to come in the house, barking at his right front foot.  His "meltdowns" would last for 30 minutes to 3 hours with no way to stop him.  After visits to the vet, we found that there was no medical reason for the "meltdowns" so now I had to start his training to get him to stop.  I found out later that the former owner would take him for walks when he had a "meltdown".  After three weeks, the "meltdowns" stopped and he began to understand that there was no need for acting out as he now got walks regularly.

After a few months, he started having some serious health problems.  I have never been so frightened as the day that he had bloody diarrhoea.  It turned out that he had a bad case of gastroenteritis and had to stay at the vet, on IV therapy, for 3 days.  I was very worried that he might not make it but after the therapy, he was back to being himself.  He went through another bout a few weeks later but he fought through it again.  A very tough old guy.

Because of his arthritis, he would not climb the stairs.  Since I had been carrying my old Sheltie up and down the stairs, it seemed routine to do the same for Cubby.  One day, when I went to the bottom of the stairs to bring him back up, he gave my some kisses then cuddled into my neck.  I felt that he was grateful for the love and help.


Cubby could make me laugh.  He had learned that if he lifted his metal food bowl and let it fall, he would get a treat.  One day while making dinner, he kept clinking his bowl but I was too busy to deal with him.  After a few minutes of hearing the clink, I sternly told him to quit.  About 4 minutes later,  I heard a very mute clink and turned to see his face looking so hopeful.  I started to laugh and had to give him a treat for his effort. He had another funny and endearing habit; when I would put down the bathmat, he would curl up and take over the mat.  I had to walk carefully around him to get to a towel.  He would happily lay there for a nap.  When a towel would hit the floor, it was his place to rest.

At his age, he was not a runner except when he knew that there was food in his bowl.  One day, he almost knocked me over to get to his food earning him another nickname,  Dozer, like a bull dozer.  Outside, he would lay in the sun or try to intercept Gimli as he ran by.  His best game was slow chase.  I would tickle his bum and he would waddle away as fast as he could.  After 3 to 4 times, he would lie down and relax.

After having him for 13 months, he got very ill again.  Now he was thin, blind and very slow.  When we got to the vet, they found that he had cancer all through his body.  He died peacefully in my arms, his pain and suffering over.

I remember him as a sweet, loving, goofy dog that hopefully had a great end of life. I do not regret  taking him but I wish that he could have been with me for longer.  He is very much missed