A rare picture of Petunia outside. Later she would refuse to pick up the ball on the ground because it was touching the ground.
Today part of me died along with my ever faithful Petunia. She went swiftly-- a quick seizure, and she was gone. I am still processing it. So much of my life was wrapped into the 40 lbs (yes, she had dropped the weight) of one neurosis after another.
Originally from Florida, she was meant to be a show dog, but because she didn't "thrive," she was taken to the vet who explained to her breeder that this puppy had to be on the only puppy in the house. We were happy to take and dote on her. She didn't like to go for walks, unless it was at the mall. Restoration Hardware, Pottery Barn, Pier One, as well as boutique stores and a few restaurants that I won't name welcomed her with open arms. Five years ago on the first night of Hanukkah, I was sitting with her at The LA Farmers Market (we were getting her Santa pics done) and a minion, converted her to Judaism. I doubt they were converting every dog they saw, that was just her hold she had on people. Everyone from tourists to paramedics abandoning their patients to local gang members we encounter at Pink's Hot Dog Stand wanted to take pictures with her.
One time someone asked me why almost all my pics of her were on a bed. The answer was because that was her favorite place. She never had a wanderlust. She was my little crazy canine Howard Hughes. She only liked to be outside if she could sunbathe or get attention from people. If it wasn't at least 90 degrees out, she would go outside for the bathroom, and immediately run in like the dog catcher was coming for her.
She was allergic to grass and 27 other items including cats. She snored incessantly, and she NEVER woke up in the single digits. People always commented that she didn't understand that she was a dog. She did always seem baffled and a little offended when other dogs wanted to sniff her. I tried for awhile to make her more dog-oriented, but I grew tired of being in a pack of dogs in the dog park just to look back seeing her sitting on the people bench with the other owners.
Her favorite thing in the world was to play with tennis balls- and only tennis balls. She could catch as good as any dog with a snout-- except she would only play inside-- for hours and hours. My fingers would pickle throwing some mangy ball. And if a ball went out of her reach she would growl and bark until I got the ball for her even if meant dislocating my shoulder, because whatever ball she picked up for the day, she insisted on sticking with it.
Tonight for the first time I can ever remember, we don't have the A/C on. We always kept the house at 62 degrees because that's the temperature she seemed happiest at. I miss having my teeth chattering while she pants because I tried to move the temp up to 63 degrees, just to have her stop as soon as I would turn it back down.
I miss her and everyone of her little idiosyncrasies... I love you, my sweet Petunia.