A while ago now, my old dog, Wicket, got put to sleep. I didn't get a chance to see is odd behavior, but I heard from multiple sorces that he basically lost his mind. We're thinking brain tumor. Of course we won't know for sure because their local vet is crazy...but we'll save that for later.
I originally got Wicket thinking he was going to be a small(er) dog. When we got there the lady explained that he was a Yorkiepoo (mix of Yorkie and Poodle). He was adorable, but already twice the size of the other puppies there. He was the last one from her last batch and needed to get rid of him since they were moving or something. She said he would stay the size he was. I'm assuming it was a tactic to get us to buy him since I had said I wanted a small dog.
He didn't stay small. He, of course, wasn't a big dog, but he was no Yorkie...quickly passing May in size.
He was one of those dogs that was dumb, yet smart. Learning to sit and go potty outside were quickly learned and he slept in his kennel at night almost silently. When he would cry I'd stick my fingers in the door and he'd lick them and fall asleep. He soon became my alarm clock. If I put my alarm on snooze he would whine till I got up. Annoying, but very helpful in getting ready for school.
Knowing that I had really wanted a tiny Yorkie, Sonnie found some. Frodo, who was/is indeed very tiny. She got Frodo for me for Christmas and offered to take Wicket. After holding Frodo I agreed. I think part of me was still mad that people pointed out to me that I had been duped by the other lady.
So Wicket moved in with Sonnie. He was one of those dogs where he was adorable - had a teddy bear face, would lick you, I don't think he ever bit anyone. But was a pain! He was fat...always taking everyones food if he had the chance....something he learned from his new brother Rascal. He loved to bark! Another thing people don't like. In my mind I always kind of saw him as the outcast. Passed onto another owner for a newer dog (which happens a lot sadly). He wasn't even old, he was just too big to be a pocket dog.
I remember doing a science project with him, using doggie vitamins to see if they helped him at all. When my teacher saw his picture she asked where I got him because I guess he looked just like an old dog of hers that was taken. It took a lot of convincing to tell her it was my dog. We used to make fun of him because he was so fat, his butt was square. I called him my table. One day when he was out for a walk with Sonnie, he got attacked by a dog that wasn't on a leash. I, again, wasn't there, but I heard it really traumatized him. The next day, he saw a dog walking and attacked him out of fear of being attacked. But as far as I know that was the only time.
Than I got a phone call one day telling me he was acting weird. He would walk and walk and walk and never stop. And not just walk, but walk behind things. Behind the couch, the tv, through plants. He also would open the cabinets, knock everything out, and sit in them. He stopped barking at people also. I guess on his last night he was acting like he was trying to walk through the wall. Pushing so hard against the wall he flipped over.
They all came to the conclusion that he was suffering, and to not let it get to the point of our old dog, Tippy, who also had a brain tumor. Taking him to the vet, and asking just to check, if they thought they knew. They didn't give an answer and just said they'd need to run tests at about $600. Not having the money (and that's overpriced anyway) Sonnie just put him down. I don't blame her. That's not Wicket. And it's better to help him before it gets too bad. Save him his dignity and remember him as a spunky little fat dog that he was. Love you Wicket! <3
~hyuu!
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