Blizzard, Blizzard, Blizzard

If the Lump could have found religion, she definitely would have been a Quaker.  Jesse was the ultimate pacifist, (although she looked like she might take an arm or another limb off if provoked)....with one exception.  In record time after she came into our lives, Baby Girl fell under the wily spells and flavors of our local Dairy Queen and its Blizzard dessert treats.

On Saturdays, if we happened to have lunch out, we made it a habit to run by DQ's drive-through and get a Blizzard each to take home.  Lump quickly internalized our little habit and immediately looked for the Blizzard cups whenever we would come home.  If she happened to spy them, look out.  Sweet, calm, passive Baby Girl would evolve into a "where are they, when we gonna have them" whirling dervish.  And, once you started eating them, heaven forbid that you might attempt to vary her routine.  The eating sequence for the Lump had to be lid first, followed by spoon, and then lastly the cup.  Alter that routine in any way and Baby Girl would cut loose with her most frustrated bark until you sequenced the dessert process properly (and she wouldn't eat anything unless the proper order was followed).  Mind you, the end result to her Blizzard intake amounted to maybe a tablespoon of dessert, but it didn't matter to her.  It was all about the awesome Blizzard treat, as long as the proper order was followed.  Another endearing quality of Lumper....

Cujosity

She came by the name Cujo honestly, but not for her temperament but her wiliness.  Her dark fur and red glowing eyes would send a shiver up anyone's spine, but our little Pacifist would never hurt a soul.  However, she did have this innate ability to escape from her crates -- as we discovered on several occasions. 

The first time we left Jesse home, we put her and sister Honey in the finished basement. When we came home, Jesse had scratched the doorframe and pulled the carpeting away from the steps in an attempt to get upstairs again. Being the smart humans, we borrowed a collapsable crate from a friend of ours and began crate training Jesse. Well...training isn't the right word. We left Jesse in the crate in the basement, returned home to find her at the top of the stairs wagging her whole body wildly. The Lump had managed to escape the crate by pushing against the internal support rods until they finally gave out. Not to be outdone, we borrowed a more substantial crate from the same friend -- problem solved, we thought. Again, we placed Jesse in the crate only to find her waiting for us at the top of the stairs again -- very proud of her ability to escape the blasted crate. Apparently, a single latch on the crate is not sufficient for our very smart little girl. We finally invested in a crate with two latches and began properly crate training our Sweet Baby.

The Story doesn't end there. We took Jesse to the groomers and she asked why we referred to Jesse as Cujo. We explained the dark fur, glowing red eyes and Houdini like ability to escape from her crate. Valerie laughed and took Jesse to the back. We returned to pick-up Jesse and Valerie commented that she now fully understood the Cujo moniker. At some point, while she was out front working with another customer, she heard all the dogs in the back let loose barking and howling. She went back to see what was going on and found our Sweet Baby prancing around the room in front of the other crates -- she had escaped again.

All the memories are precious and there are far too many to recall them all ..... but writing a few of them down pays homage to our Sweet Baby and brings a smile to our faces.

The Sounds of Silence

The worst part about the Lump's departure is the silence in the house.  She was not light on her feet by any stretch of the imagination and she did not like to be alone, so you always had either the dull thud thud of tufted paws or the pitter patter of clicking nails following along, depending on when she'd last had a visit to the groomer.  In either case, you were always accompanied by Jesse and one of her favs--her Pink Pig, her Koala Bear, or her Squirrel (and the ever present squeaking noises of those toys).

If Baby Girl decided to take a quick siesta, she could be found in a place that provided ready access to scan the front of the house and yard for "intruders".  We quickly learned the different barks--human walking alone, multiple humans walking, human with dog, human with dogs, squirrel(s) in the yard, I'm just frustrated with everything going on outside, and the ultimate one--there's a bunny out there!!!.  Now, there's just the quiet and the wish that the sounds of silence would disappear and the Lump would be back defending her turf and singing her songs.....

....and We Still Miss Her So....

It's been over a month now ... the pain ebbs and flows .. but our hearts still ache.  Halloween was an empty day for us, not having Jesse to help greet the trick or treaters and hand out candy. 

The holidays are upon us but the house is so empty and quiet.  Sharing the joy of the holidays with our Baby Girl was always special.  We'll definitely miss the discovery process on Christmas Day--which toys are going to become new favorites, which toy sounds will freak her out, which toy will require her to roll on her back and mark over and over and over, which treat will be accepted, which one will not meet the Lump's exacting standards, etc.  It's going to be tough.....