click on the photo of Gracie to enlarge it

Bunny Dog

By Jane Marie

Gracie Fleur and her mate, Pootie, belonged to my husband before we got married.  Marrying into a ready-made family of Yorkshire Terriers was no challenge because you fell in love with them the moment you met them.  Gracie, however, was a bit standoffish with me, the new girl.  She was crazy about my husband and he was crazy about her.  When I, the wicked step-wife came on the scene and banned Gracie from sleeping under the covers at night and licking my husband's ankles, it took her quite a while to completely forgive me.  The fact that I had a black cat named Sootie, who swiped at her left eye and scratched it upon their first meeting, didn't help the situation any.  Thereafter, any time we'd inquire, "How's your eye, Gracie?” she'd literally squint in response, seeking sympathy, although her eye had fully healed. 

Gracie was a perfect Yorkie, complete with papers.  She was as prissy as she was beautiful.  Living in the South with the heat and humidity did much toward tangling her long fur.  She was very good about getting her weekly baths and even better about allowing us to put her hind quarters in the plastic hood of the electric hair dryer.  We'd turn it on low and there she'd patiently sit, a wet face sticking out of a "hot balloon.”  Actually, the heat probably felt good. 

Gracie didn't like her annual shave.  Every summer, I'd get out the old clippers, and in minutes the beautiful Yorkie turned into a miniature fawn.  At least, that's what her pointy little nose and perky ears made us think of when we looked at her.  But my husband made sure that no one laughed at her because he swore that it embarrassed her and hurt her feelings.  After a couple of hours, Gracie was her old self, having forgotten the humiliation of her new look. 

My husband used to travel a lot and when he came home, Gracie was so happy to see him, she would tuck her little hind legs underneath her somehow and hop like a rabbit around the room.  We've never seen a dog do anything like that before or since.  And she did it only after he'd been gone for several days! 

Gracie and Pootie had four puppies.  Let me just say it was a major experience for Gracie, our seven year old daughter and myself.  Naturally, this was one of the times my husband was out of town.  Once the puppies began arriving, Gracie seemed almost overwhelmed as to what to do.  By the time the forth puppy showed itself, Gracie was exhausted and ignoring it.  Having no knowledge in these matters, I did what seemed to be the natural thing.  I broke the sac and the puppy started to breath.  Then, he stopped.  As he lay there still, our daughter dropped to the floor, laid her had down on the carpet and cried,"Oh, Mom.”  Of course, that didn't add any pressure, now did it?   

I rubbed the baby with one finger, trying to get its circulation going and, mercifully, it worked.  The puppy began breathing and kept it up.  Gracie was still oblivious to this fourth puppy so I cut the puppy's cord.  That's when a thin stream of blood shot up.  All I could do is put my finger on the baby's tummy and again, the angels were watching over us all, and the bleeding stopped.  Needless to say, my daughter and I won't ever forget the scene, but the happy news is all four puppies survived.  We gave three away to family members and kept the oddest looking one, Honey Bear, for ourselves. 

Thank you, Gracie, for being a good girl and bringing smiles to our family.  I'm so glad we have pictures to remind us of how pretty you were, whether you were wearing your full fur coat or your shortie.  

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