The story of the little black dog

This is the story of my little black dog.

You all have come to know Miekie on the blog here, as the Little Black Dog.

Miekie, The Little Black Dog

Miekie, The Little Black Dog

Miekie came into my life many years ago, as a tiny little skinny dog, with a huge head and even bigger ears.  She was living with a family with lots of dogs, and being so small, she was always the last one to eat or be taken care of.  I have said to the family a few times I would love to take her, but each time she remained with them.  Then one late afternoon I got a call, can I immediately take her.  Of course I said Yes!  And in less than 30 minutes, I was standing there with a small little black dog in my hands, and two cats looking at me as if I have gone totally insane.

No dog food, or bedding or anything.  I simply had to share the cats bedding and blankets, and give her a bed for the night.  She ate some chicken, but remained restless.  It was a long night, and she was afraid of just about everything.  Even the cats were huge in comparison with her.

The next day was better, as I could get her everything the two of us would need.  It started with a bath, and I realized that she had a lump on her head, and a bite mark under her one eye.  A trip to the vet was to follow, with the usual check up and injections.  Then shopping!  A bed, toys, food, treats, snacks, the works.  It was all very new to Miekie, and she took her time getting used to it all.  She was a nervous little pup, and just wanted to be around me all the time.  I took her just about everywhere I went.  She very soon got the nickname “Fledermaus” which is german for “bat” because of her big ears.

She settled in eventually, and got used to the cats being in the house as well.  She absolutely loved being around them both, and would sneak into their beds and sleep in it.  She could easily cuddle with them, although they both tolerated it, and were not always impressed with having a dog around.  I think the two cats were definitely in charge, but allowed her to believe she was.

Miekie also had to visit the vet after a few months, to be spayed, as we did not think that it would be a good idea for her to have puppies, being so very small.  At this time the vet also removed some of her teeth, as she had two rows of teeth.  It would seem the baby teeth did not fall out when her permanent teeth came in.  She went through both operations with flying colours.  Such a brave little dog.

When she got a bit older, she started having epileptic seizures.  The first one took me by total surprise and I did not know what was happening or what to do.  An emergency trip to the vet followed.  After a lot of tests, she started medication that helps a lot, and even though she still has them, they are not so severe or often.  I did a lot of reading on animal seizures and can at least look after her when it happens.  I also have a natural herbal product that does absolute wonders for her.Looking after her diet and food that she eats makes a big difference too.

All is going very well with her now, and she is happy and content to be spoiled by all those that meets her.  Both the cats have passed on, and I think Miekie still miss them some days.  She loves being around people, and is not fond of being alone much.  After all these years, she still does not like loud noises or thunder.

But Miekie was not the first Little Black Dog that I had the joy, love and pleasure of sharing my life with.  It all started when I was just a skinny teenager in Highschool with my nose in the books.  My fathers’ brother (my uncle) asked if we wanted a dog.  My parents were slightly hesitant, as this was a small dog, and the family already had bigger dogs.  But after a while I was able to convince my parents that I could and would be a good dog owner.  And so I got my first doggie.  The cutest and sweetest little miniature Dobermann Pinscher.  A little dog with a big name, as I decided to name him Lawrence, after one of my very favourite movies, “Lawrence of Arabia”.  What a huge job he turned out to be.  He was a really busy little boy, and not house-trained at all.  I had my hands full, but in the end managed to get him to be the perfect pet.

But being a little boy, he was your typical male.  The house was his, and he was in charge. After many years, and after I finished my studies and started working, he calmed down, just a little bit at least.  But still not without the regular surprises.  The one incident that I will never forget, was the day he broke both his front legs.  It was an absolute disaster.  He was outside and I could hear him crying.  When I went out, I found him with both legs completely twisted, and he was in huge pain.  I immediately put him on a pillow, wrapped a towel around him and rushed to the vet.  They wanted to put him down, but being a stubborn young lady at the time, I absolutely refused.  My vet promised to operate immediately.  I stayed at the vets until they were done.  My poor baby now had tiny metal screws in both front legs, and was wrapped up from the tips of his toes to his chest.  For months I could not let him walk or out of my sight, and had to carry him everywhere.  His legs healed perfectly, and he returned to normal again.  But now he was a much more restful and peaceful doggie.  He finally calmed down.

Many years later, when my daughter was born, he was my “baby monitor”.  I could work around the house or even outside in the garden, and he would stay in the baby nursery where she was sleeping.  He would calmly sleep there too and as soon as she woke up or became restless, he would come and find me.  Then I knew she was awake and needed me.  The two of them were best buddies, and always together.  They got up to all sorts of fun and games.  He was a bit older now, and my daughter was so very careful and gentle and kind with him.  If you looked for the one, you would find the two of them.

Lawrence grew very very old with us. He really did have a very good life and I am sure he enjoyed us just as much as we enjoyed him.  In the end it was very sad to let him go, but we knew it had to be done.  It was my first pet to pass on, and I had a very hard time.

For a long time we did not have a dog again.  I got a little black kitten, that turned into a big ball of black fluffy fur, that did her name proud.  She was called Venus, the goddess of love, and her name suited her so well.  Later she was joined by a little rescue that carried an even bigger name, Babushka.  But that is a whole different story, one that I will also share one day.

Thank you for being interested in the story of my Little Black Dog, and how it all came about, and why I guess I will always be around a Little Black Dog.

This is one of my old photos of myself and my first Little Black Dog, Lawrence.  (I was your typical teenager I guess.)

The First Little Black Dog

The First Little Black Dog




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