Farewell to a Friend

On Friday morning, the mobile vet is coming to our house to put Scout to sleep. Right now, she is resting in my car, parked in the cold garage. The car is the only place where she can escape the anxiety that turns her into a trembling mess more often than not these days.

Violet and I took her for a short walk today. We all enjoyed the cool, fresh, air and Scout's enthusiasm over going for a walk hasn't dampened despite her 15 years. She walked through deep puddles getting her underbelly wet and sniffed the recently revealed grass for signs of other dogs. She was so perky on the walk, in fact, I once again doubted whether or not euthenasia is the right decision right now. But when we got home, the panting and scratching and searching resumed right where it had left off. I know that the kind, responsible, choice is to let her go while there are still good moments. If I wait until she is constanly miserable, I will have waited too long.

So during the next few days, we'll take our walks. Violet will feed Scouty extra treats. We will enjoy the mild February weather outside as much as we can. I may buy Scout a Big Mac. Some extra ear scratches will definitely be in order. And then I'll cry for a long time while I say goodbye to my furry firstborn.

We Have Panties

On Saturday, the 22nd of January, 2011, Violet pooped on the potty, and received her long awaited Dora underwear and chocolate chips. Like a mantra, during every poopy diaper change for almost a year, we have chanted about the exciting day when Violet pooped on the potty and got the grand prize, Dora underwear and chocolate chips. That glorious underwear and chocolate chip day has come and it was worth the wait.

I am so proud of Violet, I could shout it from the rooftops! 'MY BABY IS WEARING UNDERWEAR--NOT A DIAPER! SHE IS REFINED AND BRILLIANT!'

Of course there have been accidents. That's why it is called potty training. But the accidents are few and usually my fault. Like a pants pooping when I am in the shower--who could blame her? And she's learning quickly. Yesterday when I was finished drying my hair, Violet called me down to show me that she had deuced on the big toilet all by herself! I think she was finally ready. And a little friendly competition from her best friend/arch-rival/closest cousin, Charlie, surely didn't hurt the process. Thanks, Cha!

So, while I loved cloth diapering, I can say I did not shed a tear when I washed those stinkers for the last time. When Violet finishes on the potty--usually after requesting a moment or two of 'quivacy'--she shouts, "Mommy, I knew I can do it!" We rush in to praise and ogle and say goodbye to her work as we flush it away. And I am proud.