Our beloved dog, Fozzy, died March 10, 2009. He was 14 years old, and we miss him very much.
It doesn't matter if I still think his name is spelled "Fozzy" or my sister thinks its "Fozzie". He had the middle name "Bear", because he was as cuddly and absent minded as the character he was named after, Fozzy Bear. He was a sweet, 95 pound mutt (we really have no idea what kind of dog he was), who Jenny adopted from a pound without asking permission from our parents. He was so cute coming home. I remember the first days we had him - my sister drove me to school (10th grade), and we brought Fozzy along. We almost got to school, when Fozzy started acting funny...he started moaning and pacing, and then suddenly he threw up on the car seat. What we saw were about 20 white noodle looking things. We also knew we ate speghetti the night before, so when we saw these "noodles", we wondered how he got a hold of them, and why they weren't digested. Until about 10 seconds later, when all of a sudden they ALL started moving. Even the one Jenny picked up started curling up in her hands. I thought I was gonna vomit. He's been the endeared family pet ever since.
He was a quick learner, thanks in part to my dad who liked to teach him tricks to the point of almost torturing him. He learned to lay still with human food on his paws, and he wouldn't move, sometimes for 1/2 hour at a time, until you said 'ok'. He learned to retrieve the newspaper, and learned to howl and sing when we did. He was protective, and he growled when a strange noise was coming from outside -- as well as one we hugged, yelled while watching football, or made any other strange gestures. He was our security guard. He always barked at Amy, probably because she was smaller than him when he was a puppy.
He also loved to be with us. He slept with me a lot when I was a high school student, and I watched movies on the floor with him as my pillow. We'd go running together, and I even wore him out rollerblading or biking. He loved to chase me, and even once I would have him chase me in the front yard, but juke and jive like a football player - I once juked around a tree, but poor Fozzy was watching me and not the tree and.....BAM! He slammed his poor little snout against the tree.
He was a wonderful companion, and as I left for college and medical school and residency, and Amy left for college, he always hung around mom and dad, and slept by their bed every night. He became older, gray, with lumps and bumps, but he always loved to go outside, catch the frisbee, pee on the lawn and sniff the air. This past Christmas, he looked old - his eyebrows were gray and overgrown, and he didn't have the pep in his step like he used too. Even the stairs were hard to conquer. But he still looked good, like he was enjoying himself...he still liked to eat and poop. However, come January and February of this year, he even stopped that. We knew it was close. I asked mom and dad if they could not 'do anything' until I came and visited this Spring...but he grew more tired, thin, and stopped eating and drinking. He became more snappy, probably from pain. He couldn't walk anymore.
Jenny and Jeff and Amy and mom and dad were all in agreement - Fozzy was dying. They went out and bought him a special treat - a full meal from Outback steakhouse. I wasn't sure if he would eat it - but eat it he did, and with great enthusiasm. And thus, after this, barely limping and with sunken eyes, Jenny let him pass away in her arms. We will miss him, and we know he's in dog heaven...though, he doesn't like dogs. He's joined our old, epileptic dog Toby, and my favorite golden retriever Sarge (Carrie and Steve's old dog)...and I hope he's chasing down frisbees and eating steak every night wherever he is. We love you Fozzy!
