10.14.2012

Sentimental Sunday: Mitsy, Mitsi, Mitzi, Mitzee, Mitzy . . .

Mitsy was my family's dog.  We have never agreed on how her name is spelled, and at this point it's been so long that none of us remember which one we liked most.  Hence the title.

Our Mitsy
08/09/99--10/11/12

The reason I'm writing about Mitsy today is because she passed away this past Thursday.  My mom texted me Thursday evening to let me know that Mitsy was in excruciating pain and that they were on their way to an after hours vet to have her put down.  I immediately called my mom and she put the phone to Mitsy's ear (and from what I heard, I do not doubt that she was in immense pain and that my mother was doing the right thing), and I told Mitsy how much I loved her and that I'd miss her and to be good.

And that was that.  I'm heartbroken, mostly because I couldn't be there to say goodbye or be with her when she died.  If you haven't noticed my pets mean the world to me, and I hate thinking that poor Mits was alone and in pain and unaware of what was going on when it happened.  I'd have stayed with her the whole night at the vet's if I could have.

So in her memory, I thought I'd give her a post on my blog.

We got Mitsy the day I started 9th grade.  Our dog Samantha, who we'd had since I was a kid, had died just a month or so before and we'd been talking about getting another big dog.  (Sam was a German Shepherd mix, and we also had Tripsy, who was her daughter).  What stands out to me most about the day Mitsy came home to us was that when I got home from the bus stop, my sister was at the fence, waiting for me and holding her (she was such a fat little puppy!) and there was a blue bow around her neck.  Based on the bow, I thought she was a gift for me and I got all excited, and my mom quickly assured me that she wasn't a gift, they just thought the bow was cute.  Gee, thanks.

Mitsy was an Australian shepherd mix, and she was mostly black with white markings.  Her paws were all white to varying degrees, so we wanted to name her something like Socks or Boots.  We named her Mittens, or Mitsy for short.

She was not the brightest dog, and she liked to escape from the yard frequently; I remember my parents bailing her out of the dog pound a couple times.  She would eat anything, and whenever she managed to sneak past us and into the house, she'd beeline for the couch and then roll around on it like a crazy thing.  It was hilarious.  She wasn't a really playful dog but there was this one squeaky bone toy that was weird looking--it was textured and looked like stone--that drove her insane.  She loved that thing.  She hated cigarettes and would do this funny little dance thing on them and snarl at them.

We still lived on LeRoy when we got her.  After my parents' divorce she went with my mom, first to the house on Kenneth, then to the one on Pasadena, and finally to where my mom currently lives.  When the moving started, Tripsy initially went to live with my aunt, and I think Mitsy was lonely.  Tripsy died when I was still in college, and I think Mitsy really missed her.  But she'd play with Goochie and Autumn when they went outside, and even Benji didn't mind Mitsy.

Mitsy had two litters of puppies in her lifetime (I think).  The last one (or the only one) was born at my mom's house on Pasadena, right around the time I got Benji back in 2007.  There were 4 little ones.  Three of them are with other families and, I hope, happy and healthy.

But one of those little puppies was adopted by Jerbs and her parents.  The puppy that they took is the spitting image of Mitsy; his name is Olaf.  I am so glad the Weeds took him, because they love him so much, and he gets treated like a little doggy prince at their house.  He's much bigger than Mitsy was, mostly height wise, but he does the Mitsy dance just like she used to.  He is the most energetic, over friendly dog I have ever met, and I love him.  I play with him whenever I visit Jerbs' mom and dad, and I'm happy that Mitsy is living on in him.  Oh, and he weighs more than Jerbs, which is just a fun fact.


This is Olaf, back when he first went to live with the Weeds and he was a baby.
He's a huge, grown up dog now, but I don't have any current pics.

So rest in peace, Mitsy.  I'm glad you got to live a long life with my family, and I think we gave you a good life and that you were a happy dog.  I don't doubt that you're in doggy heaven now, hopefully getting to play with Tripsy and Goochie and rolling around on a big comfy couch.

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