Best dog ever!

We got Moki, a West Highland terrier in 1990, when Jud was one year old, and Amy was nearly 5. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking – getting a puppy with a one year child to take care of?!? But Moki turned out to be the best dog ever – even non-dog lovers loved Moki. And Jud seems to be turning out okay too.

My sister Susi had a Westie named Macaroon (Mac) when I lived with her one summer during college. I took care of him while Susi and Mom took a trip to Greece and Turkey, and decided to get Mac trimmed at the dog stylist in Atlantic as a surprise. He came out looking like a Mexican Hairless – trimmed bald! So I got him a little tee shirt and put the word “killer” on it, so he wouldn’t look so prissy. After hanging out with Mac, I always wanted a Westie.

I had quit my fulltime job in 1990 to work part time. I figured the kids would only be little once and we wanted them to have some time at home. In mid-summer, I was shocked to see a classified ad in our local paper selling Westie pups. It was karma and fate. Amy picked him of the two pups that were left – these pups were family raised. Paul named him – he said Moki means “great bear”. I kinda think Paul made that up.

I decided to kennel train him – for his safety and our sanity! We put him in the kennel at night and when we were gone. He was the cutest little hairball! He quickly began chewing his way through our home. He ate all Amy’s Barbie fruit and shoes – we found them worse for the wear after he pooped them out in the yard. He also chewed up Jud’s Fisher Price fire truck, shoes, and alas, my prized David Winter cottage. When we got Moki, the owner gave us a little stuffed dolly to take along for him. Moki quickly decided that all the small stuffed toys were his too.

I was relieved when he grew out of the chewing stage and was potty trained. If only potty training Jud had been that easy! Then Moki decided he no longer wanted to stay in his kennel, and became the Houdini of dogdom. He would dig at the door and get out of that thing no matter what we did. Paul finally put a vice grip on the locking mechanism – but Moki would just jiggle the bin until the grip fell off. Next thing you know he would join us wherever we were.

He thought he was one of the kids, of course. We took him along pretty much everywhere. At the playground, when they went down the slide, so would he. At first we kept him on a chain in the yard, but soon (after getting in big trouble a few times) he was yard trained and rarely left our property. When I got angry with him he would give himself a timeout by going into the kennel for an hour or two.

Oh did that dog have a food thang! He would use his Houdini routine to get food wherever it was – in the trash, on the table or the on counter. One time I caught him standing on the kitchen table polishing off the chicken we’d had for supper. Another time he ate 9.5 donuts (only leaving the lemon blob from one). He also put away a stick of margarine. He would sit under Jud’s high chair and would was rewarded with yogurt or spaghettios stuck to his fur. He sure kept the floor clean!

No wonder he became diabetic! When Moki was six, I noticed he was drinking lots of water and peeing a lot. The vet told me to follow him around with a big ladle and get a urine sample. I’m sure the neighbors thought I was wacky! I cried when we got the diagnosis. He was like one of the kids, and I felt like diabetes was a death sentence!

Once we got his insulin figured out, I had to learn to give the shots. Paul couldn’t do it every time! The kids even learned how to “shoot him” eventually. He needed a shot twice each day, right before he ate. He sure was a good sport about it. As long as he got to eat! No more table scraps or treats for him anymore though.

Through thick and thin – and we had some of each, Moki was a true friend. His fur dried my tears when we lost our infant son to a heart defect in 1991. He was there in happy times too! He greeted us each day with a hug (okay he jumped up on my knees) and smile (maybe I just imagined that part) when we came home. He would do a happy dance and rub his face on the carpet to wake up. And oh did he love each and every one of us.

And we loved him fiercely! Moki died in 2004 and his ashes are still in my living room in a doggy treat urn that has white angel doggies on it. Perhaps someday I’ll sprinkle his ashes in the places he loved best – our yard and the Catholic Cemetery up the road. For now, I’m keeping him close.