Li'l Squirt in Memoriam
03/03/1983 02/15/1990
Like your mother and unlike your father, we hardly ever used your first name. In fact most of the time we called you "Quirta-quirta" or just "Quirt" and Squirt mostly just when you were in trouble. That seemed to be way to often for such a sweet baby (to us). You were our poor star-crossed little baby and we loved you so much it truly hurt. You, dear one, loved us in return virtually like there was no one else in your world. You couldn't stay with us anywhere near as long a time as your parents did, but you gave us so many happy times with your devotion and crazy antics, and filled us with bittersweet memories. Your absence is a terrible pain in our chests that we still have trouble dealing with. Only the concept of The Rainbow Bridge brings us any peace at all in regards to you. I wonder if your little mouth is still crooked? Yes, probably, for it was you.
Right from the start Squirt was our (and her sire and dam's) problem child wrapped in sugar and spice. Li'l Man's genes had turned out to be too large for Pixie and our vet, Doc Lancaster (since retired) had to attend their only birthing. Quirta's sibling was born dead and "Doc" had to take the little (but too big) Boston Terrier marked second pup by cesarean. "Doc" had big hands and hated to have to go inside any dogs that small. He did so only after he saw Pixie's valiant efforts to pass Squirt were going to be too draining on her tiny heart. He told us later how nervous he was but it was a success and he brought mother and daughter to our home (his home was not far from ours) wrapped up inside a box at 11:30 in the night. That from a vet already close to a very late retirement. Pixie was exhausted but "Doc" felt sure she would be OK and needed us and to be at home more than anything else. He was not so sure about the pup but his main interest was the mother and our peace of mind. The pup was OK physically except for a little crooked thing going on in her muzzle. I tell all this to show what a traumatic start poor Quirta had. It didn't get too much better in the days to follow. Pixie was not the best mother in the world for some reason. She would go into the pup's box to feed her and if a flying insect (which she herself was normally petrified by) came near. She would protect the pup from the only thing in the world she was ever scared of and she would feed her. However, she would not stay in the box to comfort and nurture the poor little thing. The pup quickly seemed to become resigned to her lot but kept trying to climb out of the box. Strangely, she almost never cried. We always called Pixie the great communicator because she could always make us know what she wanted, no matter how dense we were. She finally let us know that she wanted Rose to be her pup's mother. She repeatedly (no matter how many times we reversed it), with huge effort, carried the pup up on to our bed on Rose's side but still would not stay with her. When it finally dawned on us (after about three days of this), Rose took the pup to her side and it stayed there pretty much constantly, while a satisfied Pixie claimed the other side. That is how she grew. I think Quirta actually thought Rose was her real mother and not just her "momma". Pixie must have seemed to the pup to be only her "wet nurse". A bond formed between the pup and her human mother that was almost unreal. The little mite even slept between Rose's legs when we were in bed. I was always around so she loved me too but sometimes I wondered if it was only because I seemed to be a part of Rose.
As Quirta grew and endeared herself to both of us in many ways she took on her father's bad habit, only ten times worse. If he would bark a little at others, she would go into frenzy about it. When we sent him "to his room" he would go. She would go in one door and come out the other and continue her tirade. Unfortunately the resulting scolding only resulted in more paranoia and nervousness about everyone in the world but us. It was a distraction but we loved her and she us. She trusted her sire and if he felt a little concerned about people, then that was good enough reason for her to go ballistic. She started developing other oddities. Every time her dam would come in heat, she would too and then they both would go into false pregnancies. They would each take an end of the couch, hoard dry food in it and treat the chunks like their babies. This was weird of both but Pixie would only hover over the tiny "babies". Squirt would protect them with barred fangs and sudden lunges at everyone but Rose. This is when she began to get more and more tension ridden and began to show her disdain for her dam. It visibly aged her terribly. They seemed to encourage this oddity in each other and were coming in heat every six months or less. Then the daughter who loved us so much decided she should become the pack matriarch and began attacking our beloved Pixie, who was only half her size now. It was so distressing to all of us and the more so for Pixie because in between attacks Squirt would act like nothing in the world was wrong. Once she cut Pixie's eyelid pretty bad. Pixie was beginning to be afraid of her and we could never leave them alone without fearing the result. Because of her demeanor between her odd behavior bouts (which was every bit as loving as her dam's) we became convinced she didn't have full control. It was like she was two (or more) dogs in one. We coped, loved her, and enjoyed her sweet times. Meanwhile we found ways to guard against her not so sweet times.
As life does, there came a time and circumstance when we felt we must give up our home and move away to look after my mother in her last years. The situation was such that we could not take all of our pets and we were faced with the difficult task of finding good homes for all but Pixie and Li'l Man, by then the seniors. We tried our best and were successful in all but the case of our poor mixed up baby, Quirta. There we only succeeded in creating more traumas until we came to realize it was futile. You know what is coming and even now this is so hard to entertain. Even the vet tried to make us feel better by telling us she was what was known as "certifiably unadoptable" and that some just are that way. It was so hard, especially on Rose who held our Quirta close and safe at the last. I could not even be there for either of them. Please forgive us, Quirta-quirta for doing what we were forced to decide was best for all concerned. We know you have no fears or bad moments now, only sweet times at The Rainbow Bridge with Pixie, Li'l Man, and all the others. See ya baby!
