Fritz

A few years back, my son brought home the most adorable (as if there is any other kind) German Shepherd puppy.  We immediately fell in love with Fritz.  Well, not quite all of us.  Marshall said that our family dog, Ebony, bit little Fritzy on the occasion of this first meeting.  But for me, and for most of us, it was love at first sight.

Poor little Fritz came with a few problems.  He was allergic.  To everything.  OK, maybe not everything but there were certainly times it felt like it was.  The poor guy was constantly breaking out.  His coat was not as shiny as it should have been.  His eyes were often runny.  His ears were infected.  He got little bumps under his snout.  Allergies were not fun for him.  He had to have a special diet.  He lived on steroid shots.  Thankfully he had, in Marshall, a daddy who went out of his way to make sure Fritz was as comfortable as possible.  Marshall stayed on top of Fritz' diet and his vet visits and his steroid shots and his allergy medication.  But more times than not, the allergies won, and Fritz was miserable.  (and that is how he came to live with me and Mark .... but more about that later)

Fritz was gorgeous.  German Shepherds are such a beautiful breed, and he was no exception.  The way he sat.  The way he stood.  And especially ... the way he ran.  When he ran, he was majestic.  I loved to watch him run.  I can't remember who was here recently, but someone was visiting, and I told them they had to watch Fritz run.  I threw his ball for him to chase, just so we could watch how beautiful he is when he runs.  Fritz did not play 'fetch', but Fritz loved his balls.  He wanted us to throw them all day long, and he would go after them.  Sometimes catching them in the air, other times running after them with all he had .... but he did not bring them back.  They were his.  Period.  And he always had one in his mouth.  Fritz could not eat without having one of his balls nearby.  Fritz could not sleep without having one of his balls nearby.  Fritz could not go outside without a ball in his mouth.  Fritz could not come inside without a ball in his mouth.  I will miss so many things about him, but seeing him with a ball in his mouth will be at the top of the list.  Fritz would sit and just stare at you begging you to please, please, please throw his ball.  Sometimes I would.  It meant so much to him.  It was especially a treat when Mark would kick his ball, because then the ball travelled FAR, and Fritz got to run a long, long way to get it.  If we played long enough, Fritz would eventually get tired and hot.  He would take that stupid ball over to his water dish and drop it right in.  Then he would drink some water too.  I didn't always play ball with Fritz as much as I probably should have.  Last year, Fritz had a problem with his hip.  His X-rays showed that he did have fragile hips and knees.  We still played ball with him, it meant too much to him NOT to, but I did cut back and didn't do it as often as he wanted.  That, of course, makes me sad now.

When Fritz still lived with Marshall, one of the highlights of his life was playing 'fetch' with Sammy and Max.  Someone would throw the orange stick, and all three dogs would chase after it.  At different times, a different dog would win, and it was always entertaining and fun to watch them.  In the water, Max, the Labrador, had the upper hand.  He was beautiful in the water.  Not that the others couldn't swim, but it was much more natural for Max.  On land the upper hand belonged to Fritz.  Again, not that the others couldn't run, but Fritz excelled at it. 

As I mentioned earlier, Fritz had allergies.  Bad allergies.  Fritz came to live with me and Mark while Marshall was up at SMU.  Initially it was to help Marshall out.  However, a couple things happened.  One, Fritz' allergies quit flaring up.  Two, Fritz and Georgia O'Keeffe became best buds.  Fritz still had all his allergies, but down here, they just didn't act up as badly or as often.  He never once had a steroid shot while living with us.  On the occasions when his allergies did hit, they didn't hit hard.  And Georgia was such a mother hen to Fritz.  She would lick, lick, lick his watery eyes or his ears or his snout.  She took such great care of him, and he LOVED every minute of it.  Because of these two things, Marshall and I came to the conclusion that Fritz was going to remain here with us.  It was hard for Marshall, but he knew Fritz was better off.  And he knew I loved Fritzy.  He knew Fritz would be taken care of.

Fritz was such a sweet boy.  I loved that he looked scary.  Some of our neighbors told us that he scared them when they saw him in the yard.  Good.  I like that.  but Fritz would not have hurt anyone.  Matter of fact, when I handed all the dogs treats, he was the most gentle of the bunch to take it from my hand.  Fritz had this huge head and these big teeth, and yet he was so gentle in getting a treat from me.  So sweet. 

We were out of town for a little while, and my mom was here taking care of everyone.  She told us Fritz would not eat.  We weren't too worried.  Fritz was a picky eater.  Fritz was never a big eater.  But then he skipped too many meals.  We were beginning to worry, but we were wondering if he was missing me.?  or was it the heat?  Thankfully we were able to get him into the vets the next day.  By now he was not eating.  He was bloated.  The vet took blood.  The vet ran tests.  The vet took X-rays.  Fritz' heart was enlarged.  Fritz was having a hard time breathing.  We got prescriptions, and we came home.  But Fritz did not get better.  

Last night I knew.  I just knew.  Marshall said he knew the first time I called with the initial vet visit.  Marshall and I discussed everything each step along the way.  Each decision we made together.  I came out into the living room and slept with Fritzy.  I thought of bringing him to my room, but I didn't want to make him walk down the hallway.  So instead, I went to him.

This morning, not only would he not eat, now he no longer would drink.  I called the vet.  I started to have Mark call, but I thought I could handle it.  I was wrong.  I was crying so hard, I'm surprised the vet understood me.  (or maybe they didn't)  They told me to bring him in.  We still didn't know the answers, but I knew he was better at the vets than with me.  An hour or so later, the vet called.  We talked.  Fritz' heart was too damaged.  I asked if Fritz was his dog, what would he do.  He said he would consider putting him down.  I knew that, but I had to hear it  from him.  I talked to Marshall and headed back to the vets and to Fritz.

I was with him.  I stayed with him.  I pet him and told him he could go to sleep.  Just go to sleep.  He did.  And just like that, Fritz was gone. 

I mentioned Georgia O'Keeffe would be looking for him, so the vet told me to bring her in.  Let her say 'good-bye'.  So we did.  I did not go back with Georgia.  I didn't think I could handle that.  A vet tech took her back.  She sniffed him, her demeanor changed a little, she sniffed again, and she walked away. 

I came home.  I walked the yard gathering up all his balls.  He'll be buried with some.  Not sure which yet, but some.  Under his favorite big shade tree. 

And life, for the rest of us, will go on.  And we will be OK.  But not today.  Today I am not OK.  Today I am so sad and missing a wonderful, wonderful dog and companion.

Good-bye Fritzy.... oh how I love you.