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The flying Dutch Man

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dutch and shelby   clare and dutch2   clare and dutch   dutch   

Well, he really isn’t flying…although he may be tonight in my dreams.  Dutch was a lone pup I found when I was about a senior in high school from our dog Brandy.  Yes, she had 1 puppy…only 1, so we knew that he was special.  He was so pudgy and round as a pup, and oh so lovable you wanted to just smother him with hugs and kisses.  I am saddened this evening to find out that he is no longer on this Earth, and has been sent to doggy heaven in the sky to be with his mom Brandy.  My mom called this afternoon to let me know that he had to be put down.  He was old, and lived a long life as a hunting dog, family dog, protector, and best of all a loveable dog.  I want to say that he was around 13 years old, almost 14 as his birthday would have been this month. 

Dutch was special to me because I found him.  I had gotten home from school that day, and I went to let Brandy out of her pen (as we kept her as an outdoor dog).  She got to the one corner of the house and let out a yelp, running back to her pen.  I went to find out what was going on, and opened the roof to her coup (aka the house she slept in) to find her nursing one single little pup.  He was so cute, and my mom named him Dutch, as that’s what her dad called her when she was younger.  He was so dependent on his momma, she carried him around in her mouth everywhere, and he refused to walk.  I remember sitting around the Christmas tree forcing him to walk, while we held down his mom Brandy.  Soon enough we made them both house dogs.  About a few years later Brandy was so old (16 years old), and her hips had fallen apart so we put her down.  I remember my dad heating up the ground to burry her on the farm where we grew up. 

Dutch was always there through fun and sad.  He would lay on the living room floor and I (or my brother’s) would fall asleep on him using him as a fluffy pillow.  He always listened to me, even though I’m sure he had no clue what I was saying.  Soon enough I went away to college and my parents adopted another dog, Shelby, into their house.  I think she was a replacement for their oldest that flew the nest….but I’m sure they’d protest and say otherwise.  I’d go home and there’d they’d always be….the dynamic duo Dutch & Shelby.

After Brad & I married, and had Clare we’d go back to my parent’s place…and they were always there eager to great us as we pulled into the drive way, the dynamic duo that is.  Clare too kinda grew up with Dutch, and will always remember him as the dog she could ride as a toddler.  Yes, he was that type of dog.  Kind, wise, snuggly, and oh so smart.  I will miss him, and I know my parents will miss him too as I think he was secretly the 4th child.  As I finish this I leave you with some pictures of my “Bufalumps”, it’s what I called him - don’t know where it came from, but it suited him.  I will miss seeing him when I go home in a few weeks for Thanksgiving, but I know he is in a better place now with no pain, no worries of dealing with is deafness, and his lumps are all gone now.  I hope that my parent’s are healing too from their grief in missing him, as he was truely one of the best dogs anyone could have known.  Not that my dog isn’t great….but we all know Moonshadow isn’t the brightest crayon in the box, as she’s still got A LOT of pup still left in her.  I can only hope that she will become as great of a dog as he was….she’s on her way there, she just needs a few more years.

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