To my readers: My wife and I felt that for all her loyalty, love and help in raising our family that the above tribute to our family dog, Biskette, was in order. I will resume regular publishing next week. -- Greg. Biskette 1994 – 2009 I had to have our family dog, Biskette, put down this week. About a year ago we noticed that she had lost a lot of weight. The veterinarian did some blood tests and diagnosed her with liver disease and arthritis. Through a regimen of medicines and supplements she had rebounded to a healthy “elderly” dog. Not as rambunctious as a puppy but still full of life and aware of her surroundings. Biskette was the only dog I have ever heard of who came into this world toilet trained. Even as a puppy, she would patiently wait at the door to go outside to take care of business. When finished, she would simply scratch the door with her paw to get back in the house. She was a mutt. Part American Eskimo and part Cocker Spaniel. She also had characteristics – pointing, stalking of squirrels and rabbits in the back yard, that I am told were akin to that of a bird dog. When I brought her home 15 years ago, she was a small ball of white fluff. You could see there were brown colorations in all that white fur. When my wife, Mecee, saw her she exclaimed, “she looks like a biscuit!” Our children agreed and so, we Europeanized the name (my wife is of French heritage) and named her Biskette Biskette loved to be with her people. As with most dogs, she was practiced in the art of watching people. She was a pro at it. If Mecee was doing laundry, Biskette could be found at the end of the hallway, watching through the door to the laundry room. Almost as if she was making sure it was being done right. Often times in the evening I would come into my office at home to work on the computer -- closing the double set of hinged doors so as not to be bothered by the television in the next room.
After a while, the doors would slowly be parted. Biskette would make her entrance. Sit down next to my chair, always in the same spot, and watch me type. She was always happy to see you at the end of the day. Waiting in the same spot in the back yard so that she would be ready to race into the house when we arrived home from work. I will miss the routine of being greeted by her every morning, giving her a “cookie” before leaving for work. Her peculiar ways, like her habit of not touching her food until she saw that you were eating your meal – the night I came home from work to find her barking excitedly as if to tell me about the strange animal in the yard (it was the neighbors cat), will stay with me forever. My daughter used to tell her friends that Biskette was a “genius”. No doubt she was smart, clever and had personality to spare. She was special. I doubt the strange mix that brought her into this world will be repeated. And that I am probably expressing the same thoughts that many other dog owners have about their animals. At the end, she was in pain. You could see it in her eyes as if to ask, “what is wrong me?” The helpless feeling I had when I knew there was no way to answer the question or to ease the pain. So we took one last car ride to the veterinarian. I know that drive was for the best. But it still hurts. We miss her so much.