I thought day two after the shock of it happening would be easier than yesterday, but in a way it’s a lot worse. I keep looking for Izzy even though I know he’s not around. I’m so used to him following me EVERYWHERE, especially when Brian isn’t home. I stayed home from work today to recuperate, and Brian had to run in to work for a bit so I am home alone with the baby. I had him in his jumper seat while watching tv and after the show ended I literally turned my head to look and see if he was laying on the tile by the front door. (his favorite place to lay when I’m not paying attention to him). The reason I checked was because I found myself thinking at any moment he was going to walk up to Legend and sniff his jumper and try to sneakily lick his face even though he knows he’s not supposed to, just like always.
After that I changed baby’s diaper and got a bath ready. I had the bathroom door left open and kept waiting for Izzy to walk in, look at baby in the tub and get in the way like always. But he didn’t. I saw the garbage can sitting on top of the toilet where he wouldn’t get in to it and realized it didn’t have to be there anymore. I could actually put it on the ground.
I got baby dressed and to sleep and when I walked in to his room to put him down I noticed one of his things on the floor. Immediately my mind went, “ugh, IZZY!” but then I realized it must have just fallen out of his diaper bag or something.
I was about to get in the shower but couldn’t bring myself to get in yet. I am sobbing right now just thinking of him. Every time I showered, whether or not Brian was home, I would get out and wrap myself up and when I’d slide the bathroom door open, there was Izzy. Laying on the linoleum floor of the laundry room waiting for me to get out. Then he’d follow me to the bedroom, literally tripping me the whole way because he had to be RIGHT by my side at all times. I’d probably push him aside with my leg so I wouldn’t fall flat on my face. Then while I got dressed he’d sniff in my closet for a few minutes; driving me crazy because there was NOTHING ever in there..! Then he’d jump on the bed and if he’d recently had a bath I would let him stay there and lay around while I got ready.
Oh Izzy. I can’t take it. Who would know that all these tiny little things would become such a routine and habit for me? I can’t stand that you’re not around. I feel SO lonely. Every time I think I’m doing better and maybe I’m done crying, something makes me think of you. Or I think, “I haven’t heard Izzy for a while, what’s he getting in to? “ Or I start picking up my shoes so you won’t destroy them, or closing off the kitchen and living room so you can only stay on the wood floors where I can easily keep an eye on you. Walking over my laundry piles on the floor or jumping up on the bed if I’m folding laundry there and ruining all my piles I just made.
I keep going to look out Legend’s window to make sure you’re still in the yard, or listening for you to practically run in to the door because you’re ready to come in. You never barked or scratched the door; you just waited patiently. I got so I could tell the noise of when it was you standing by the door. You’d put your front paws up on the ledge and stand as close to the door as you possibly could and it always just made the door bump once, but I could tell it was you. At certain times of the day I could see your shadow through the blinds.
I can’t stop thinking about my poor dog just hanging; no one around to help him. I have been sick to my stomach, literally, for 2 days now. I don’t feel hungry and when I do eat I feel like throwing up. I blame myself but then know that it was bound to happen one day because he was SO stubborn. The worst mix of genius and determination; he was an escape artist since day one. We were constantly fixing the fence or blocking off the gate or doing whatever we could to keep him in the yard but he always found a new way out. It wasn’t as though he wasn’t happy with us either. It didn’t matter what the limitation was, he was always determined to get out of it. When he was a puppy and we lived with my parents, we would gate him in the room where EVERYONE was there and playing with him and giving him attention, but JUST because that gate was there, he wouldn’t stop trying to get over the top or squeeze through the slats. If we closed off a room he had to paw at it until it opened just to know that he could. He was so stubborn. I kept expecting him to get hit by a car or something; I couldn’t even let him out to pee for 2 minutes without him immediately jumping the fence just because he could. He just didn’t like to be confined and he wanted to go visit everyone. Usually he was just right out in the front yard or visiting the neighbors. It wasn’t like he wanted to run away or even too go far, he just wanted to get over because it was a challenge and because he could. Every time I would find him I’d shout at him to come home and go to his crate. He would prance back so proud of himself, then as soon as he got in the house, duck his head and lay in his crate. I knew he didn’t feel bad though. He knew he wasn’t supposed to but there was NOTHING stopping him.
Izzy was the smartest dog I’ve ever known in my life. He had a stubborn streak but he could learn a trick in a matter of minutes, and then remember it from there on out. When he was a puppy, it was only a matter of days before he understood the concept of going “outside” to go potty and he almost NEVER had an accident after. He would ring a bell on the door or mostly just come find me (never Brian to my annoyance), and whine at me. If I asked, “Outside?” He would RUN to the door constantly checking to make sure I was following. In the first month we had him I taught him to sit and (kind of) stay, and lay down. By one year old he could “high five”, bark on command from just a hand gesture or voice command, shake, and play dead (though quite dramatically) when shot with a hand shaped like a gun. He could sniff out his ball no matter where I hid it from him and would fetch for hours if I let him. When I was pregnant almost every day after work was devoted to a walk (until I got too big to go far), a nap together on the couch (once he was laying on my stomach when Legend kicked so hard it made izzy's head bounce), and then we would either go out in the front yard and use the long stretch of neighbor’s lawn, or just stay in the back yard where I could sit on the porch steps and we would play fetch. When I would mow the lawn he would run around me and drop his toys in the line of where I was JUST about to mow. He loved to tease.
Izzy could sniff out anything; there was no hiding something from him if he wanted it. Especially that annoying, squeaky green ball of his. One time Brian and I hid his ball up on a surround sound speaker by the ceiling… it took him a few hours but after Brian and I had forgotten about it I heard Izzy whining at something. When I went in to the living room I saw him looking up at his ball and whining at it and he would NOT leave it for the life of him. (That is one trick we always struggled with… “leave it”.) Along with the ever flattering nick name of “creepo” he gained from peering out the top of his eyes or just staring at you when you didn’t realize it, we liked to call him “super sniff” because he would always sniff around EVERYTHING!
He had no fear of other dogs and would run up to the meanest looking dogs I’ve ever seen. It gave me a heart attack every time. I loved kids and didn’t know how NOT to be wild around them, but was ALWAYS cautious around babies and toddlers. He loved to run around when he knew you were trying to catch him. He’d let you get REAL close, then DART away faster than any dog I’ve ever seen. He was raw muscle, no fat, long legs, huge head and just pure mass.
Izzy was always so proud when he got a fancy haircut and would sit so tall and prance around afterwards, but he always LOVED a good wrestle with his dad. Whenever Brian got home from work he’d try to get him to play with him by running around and barking at him; then he’d get beat up by Brian on the bed or on the bean bag. Brian would wrestle and lift him up then slam him down on something soft. Izzy couldn’t get enough of that. He also loved to wrestle with my brother Tate and ALWAYS picked on him when he saw him. It was funny that he had a different attitude and persona around different people. He was very obedient to Brian but sneaky with us both. With Tate he was a tease and a wild dog and similar with my older brother Trevor… he would always try to jump on him. He was playful with my dad but not too much. With my mom he was very sensitive and sweet and since the day we brought him home would go up to her and sit at her feet and wait for her to pet him. With the girls he loved to run around them and play. With Riley he was a combination of playfulness and affection.
Sometimes we would leave our door open at night (if Brian would let me) and he’d come lay at the foot of the bed. Once he got too big to fit there he started taking over. I’d have Brian on one side of me, and Izzy spooning with the back of my legs and I would be squished in between both of them. I LOVED it. The last few months he’d gotten so big that I would roll over and his face would reach my pillows, even though his back feet were almost to where mine were! Sometimes in my sleep I’d wonder why I couldn’t move, then I’d wake up to find this HEAVY dog laying on top of my legs and body. Sometimes when Brian didn’t want him on the bed, if Legend woke up at night I would “accidentally on purpose” leave the bedroom door open after I fed him and got him back to sleep, so izzy could come jump up on the bed. He would always lay on my on the couch as well. Sometimes there would be NO room for him; Brian and I would be taking a nap and taking up the WHOLE couch but somehow he’s manage to find a spot for himself. Whether it was on the back of the couch, curled up on our feet half hanging off, or laying on top of me, he had to be RIGHT next to us. EVERY time Brian and I sat on the couch to watch a movie or something he would come up to me, put his front paws up on to the couch intertwined with my thighs so that his face was right in mine, then literally walk on to my lap. It always got me laughing, even if I didn’t want him there at the time. I loved it when Brian, Legend, Izzy and I were all on the couch together. I’d look around and say, “I’ve got all my boys here! I love them all!” He also always managed to stand right in front of the TV so we couldn’t see half the screen and we also couldn’t change the channel.
I could never sit down in a rocking chair to feed the baby without him running up and pawing at my feet. I always found it so irritating because he’d put his wet nose on my toes, scratch at my feet and lay on his back to try and get me to pet him. MOST of the time I humored him but once in a while if I wasn’t in the mood I’d try to push him away with my feet. That was never a good idea because then he would think I was playing and he’d jump around me and spin in circles and just annoy me even further.
Not all times with Izzy were perfect. I got mad at him a lot for stupid things like walking on my laundry piles, trying to play when I was not in the mood, getting in the baby’s face and sneakily licking him even though he wasn’t supposed to. Jumping the fence and escaping, chewing up my shoes, getting in to garbage and later finding toilet paper or diapers ripped up in his crate, eating the baby’s expensive bottles and binkies, chowing down a WHOLE plate of cookies the neighbor brought over, plate and all, and just being so sneaky sometimes. I could ALWAYS tell when he’d done something wrong because if we didn’t catch him in the act it would either get really quiet for a while and we’d notice he wasn’t around (because he was ALWAYS around us), or he would walk in to the room with his head down and look at us with what we called, his “creepo” eyes, which meant the very top of his eyes. And he would try to sneak past us wherever we were. Then if we said, “Izzy…. What did you do?” He’d tuck his bum in and run back to his crate because he knew he was going to end up there anyway. If Brian or I caught him with anything or saw something chewed up on the floor all we had to say was, “Izzy… What is this??” And he would show his guilty face and run in to his crate. I always hated when Brian would leave him in there too long. My heart was too soft; I would put him in there for five minutes, the let him out and tell him not to do that again. Then we would shake on it. He never remembered his promises for long.
I could go on and on and on about that rascal of a dog that I loved so much. Maybe as I think more about him I will have to add a few things, but I am sure going to miss him. It’s hard to imagine having another dog that I could possibly love as much as I did Izzy. I miss taking him in the car with me and not really being able to see out the passenger window because he was so tall, having to grab his collar or back legs as I accelerated of stopped because he didn’t have the best car ride balance, or having snot marks on the window because it was too cold to roll it down for him so he just pressed his face up against the window. I am going to miss having a giant shadow all day that follows me from room to room even if I am just going to the bathroom or putting a plate in the sink, always tripping me or stopping suddenly right in front of me so I run in to him. I’m going to miss having him lay on the bathroom floor while I get ready in the morning, or seeing how happy he is when I get home. I’m going to miss going for walks and having people stare or tell me he is the most beautiful dog they’ve ever seen, because he was. He was so beautiful. His cream colored fur with the light apricot in his ears and a light, almost unnoticeable stripe down his back. I’m going to miss the company at night while my husband is away at work and the baby is finally asleep. It was always so comforting to have his companionship even if he was annoying at times or if I was busy. At some point we would cuddle on the couch, play fetch or learn a trick, and then go to bed where I would prop myself up and read a book for a while and he would lay next to me and occasionally paw at it because he wanted me to pet him. If I ever freaked myself out because of a noise, all I had to do was look at Izzy and if he didn’t seem concerned, I knew I was fine. If there was ever a noise out of the ordinary, he perked up and listened, and if it was too close to the house he would fill the room with his mean sounding bark (that would probably never hurt anyone, although I never had to experience someone breaking in to the house to find out). Someone would have to be really stupid to try and come in after hearing that bark. It seems so quiet, even though he was never a noisy dog. Just not hearing his nails click on the wood floor while he walked, circling around when he found just the right spot, or him DROPPING his whole weight down on the floor to lay down (which always made me and Brian laugh), and hearing his collar scrape along the floor. Whenever anyone rings the doorbell I am about to roll my eyes at his booming bark but then I hear nothing, and it seems too quiet again.
I miss that fur ball and I feel guilty ever day about the things I could have done better or that we should have stayed home that day, but he was bound to get himself in trouble one way or another with that HUGE heart of his and his unalterable determination that could not be squashed. I like to imagine that my grandpa is up in heaven taking care of him for me until I can see him again someday. I know he will not be the last companion to pass away, as I will forever be a dog person, but he will always be MY first dog. The dog I saved all my change for in a jar starting in high school, clear until I’d been married for two and a half years, patiently waiting for the right time and the right feeling. He was meant for me from the moment I saw his picture online, the long drive to Idaho to pick him up and the moment he laid his chin on my shoulder and snuggled up in to my neck. I knew he was mine.
I love you Izzy; you can never be replaced. I will always have a hole in my heart that will never be completely filled again.
Until we meet again.
sleeping on his back
sleeping on his back in his crate
the "creepo" eye
more of the creepo eye
laying on his back some more...
patiently allowing Legend to pull his hair
SO cuddly and always RIGHT where everyone else was. He didn't like to be alone.
