Tag: Honey

Rest in peace, mi amigas

Everything was in place, everything was all right
But you were missing
Missing…
— Bruce Springsteen
“Missing”

I don’t feel much like blogging today. It has been less than 24 hours now since we had to say goodbye to our beloved doggie, Honey, and this house seems so empty without her. I see her dog bed in the living room, her toys around the house. We keep expecting her to be around the next corner.

Annie was finishing her toast a little while ago and went to give Honey the scraps, an automatic reaction that just reinforces how much our little mookie (one of the millions of nicknames we had for her) was a part of the fabric of our very existence.

I still feel a bit stunned, myself. I don’t think I fully understood the possibilities when we packed her in the car on Sunday night, that it was possible that we’d be without her. But then, as so many friends and readers of this blog have pointed out, we are not without her, will never be without her. She will always be with us.

I know this to be true, because I still occasionally feel the presence of our other dogs — Amstel, who was blind at the age of 2 and had to rely on her feel for the house to get around, and my big, bushy 85-pound lapdog Benny, who like Honey seemed to have a permanent puppy smile even as he reached his final moments at age 14.

Honey’s toys remain where they were on Sunday, strewn across the house where she left them. We probably should clean them up, perhaps place them in a box in a corner where we still can see them (this was my mom’s suggestion — a good one), but I don’t think either of us are ready to do that. It’s still just a bit too raw, too fresh and painful.

Coffee cups on the counter, jackets on the chair
Papers on the doorstep, you’re not there
Everything is everything
Everything is everything
But you’re missing
— Bruce Springsteen
“You’re Missing”
Email me at grassroots at comcast dot net.

Tennis Balls (poem for Honey)

tennis ball’s ripped skin
like a tear in the soul

wishing her panting smile
given so freely

could be here right now
that I could toss

the tennis ball
and watch her leap

like Tommie Agee
and snare it from

its downward arc
and wait as she

trots back, tongue
flapping like her tail

the breeze rustling
autumn leaves….

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Email me at grassroots at comcast dot net.

Tales of Honey,the amazing wonder dog


So, I get home after a long day putting out The Cranbury Press. Annie’s out with friends so I stop for some Chinese food (General Tsao’s) and a six-pack of Smutty Nose IPA. I walk in the door to shredded garbage.

Yes. I think I’ve mentioned before that I have a dog — maybe the smartest dog on the planet. Maybe the Houdini of dogs.

Some history: We’ve had Honey (pictured on vacation with us last month) for nine years and she has shown an uncanny ability to get into almost anything — including drawers and cabinets, from which she likes to take paper and food, closing the drawer or door behind her.

We thought we’d gotten around this when we renovated the kitchen last year, putting in a pullout drawer to hide the trash can. For a while, this worked — until about six months ago when she figured out how to open it.

Our solution? Put a heavy kitchen chair in front of it. That worked for another six months, until today. When I got home I found the chair — a metal, cafe-height chair — pushed away about 8 inches. The trash drawer was closed, but the bag and all of its contents were shredded and strewn through the kitchen into the den and the dining room. Yuck.

And we just had the rugs cleaned.

As I said, she’s too smart for her own good.

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Email me at grassroots at comcast dot net.