It has been a minute, or 8 years, since I last posted on this blog. I have kept it though because the stories of our fur babies are precious to our family, even though so many of them aren’t even on here yet. There will be a few more posts, I’m sure, but this one is written with a grieving and heavy heart.
One week ago today, on March 1, 2022 our sweet and spicy Hattie girl left us at 11 and a half years old. Whispering Pines Henrietta’s House of Twigs (Hattie) passed away peacefully at home after seeing all of us out the door one last time.
It is impossible to capture her with enough words but she was the sweetest, most snuggly, sneaky, ball-loving pup I ever met. I love both our furry kids but Hattie and I had a special bond that is beyond explaining…but I’ll try.
Hattie was incredibly gentle and had the most amazing demeanor. She came to us with an “automatic sit” at 8 weeks old and never ever once jumped on a human. With the exception if we were sitting on the couch and it was family cuddle time, then it was fair game as to who would be in her way to get to me.
She had a drive and retrieve for the ball unlike any other dog we know…I even wrote a blog post about it, “For the Love of the Game”. You can check it out next 😉
Hattie was my yoga puppy, always excited when my mat came out as there were belly and chin rubs to be had. She would come nose-to-nose with me in down dog and passively-aggressively work her way under my face and onto my mat, regardless of my yoga plans. And yet, if I really needed/wanted her to move off, she would do so ever-so obediently and wait. And wait. AND wait.
Hattie was hilarious in her ability to be seemingly innocent yet unbelievably stealth in her ways of getting into things she wasn’t supposed to; even had us blaming Cooper for years! In her 11+ years of life she managed to consume over 2 dozen no-show socks, multiple wardrobes of boxers and under-things, the bottom of a curtain and a comforter…all without being caught or detected! We learned the hard way that all this stealth destruction was in fact our sweet Hatster when we forgot to kennel her one day and our niece came home to an astronomical mess. Let’s just say, Hattie had a GREAT time while we were at work and didn’t need to eat her dinner that evening.
Cooper and Hattie are best friends. Even though she has always been that annoying little sister he wasn’t sure he wanted, Cooper is grieving for her too. He’s hard of hearing and it’s even more evident now that Hattie has left us, as she was Cooper’s compass through their daily life, guiding him with her movements and barks.
Hattie knew how to find comfort in life, typically on my or Jeff’s pillow. Or any stuffed thing for that matter. She would wait for the one of us to get up in the morning and quickly use the opportunity to take the other’s place. She was the queen of the bed too, making sure that she got the spot she wanted whether or not Cooper was previously occupying it. Hattie didn’t growl or get aggressive towards him. No, like a true Minnesotan, she took the passive-aggressive approach and just calmly walked over and sat on him or close enough for Cooper to get the point he was in the spot Hattie wanted.
Hattie took this same approach when wanting attention. She wouldn’t lick or jump but she would sit so close and put her face right up to, and I mean IN your face so you could feel her little whiskers and then stare at you. She would “will” you to reach out and pet her with her big brown eyes and doggy breath. This was really special in the summer when she was hot…pant, pant, pant… She would save the facial-sneezes for special moments.
Hattie was a miracle pup, living with an aggressive blood vessel cancer far beyond anything our veterinarian had ever seen. Hattie was diagnosed with Hermangiosarcoma in March of 2020 with 3-6 months to live. We opted not to treat and we had nearly 2 more wonderful years with her. She didn’t show symptoms until just a few weeks before she died and we are so thankful that the battle was brief and she left on her own time. Like the incredibly loyal and unconditionally loving girl that she was, she made sure I got off to teach my class, that Jeff, the kids, and Cooper headed to the bus stop and she quietly slipped into the heavenly world. Just as stealthy as she always has been.
Oh my dear Fuzzy, Fuzz-wuzz, Woo-woo, Hatster, Little dog, Hattie, you took a piece of our hearts with you when you left, but it was a piece worth losing. You are forever loved.