R.I.P. Freddie

So when we were down in Coronado I got a frantic, early Saturday morning phone call from our friend who was housesitting and watching our dogs.

"Steph...I don't know what happened...I let the dogs out last night...and then this morning...I think Freddie was attacked last night.  Maybe coyotes.  I don't know.  Half of his skin is gone.  He's just lying there.  I don't know.  What do you want me to do?  What should I do?  Should I call 911?"

Not the phone call I had ever expected to receive.  The boys and I were a good 3 hours away at the beach and the Golfer was 1300 miles away.   

"Don't call 911.  Give me a second.  Just hang on.  Let me...I don't know what.  Just let me call you back."

So I hung up.  I didn't even have that much info about what had happened.  The obvious first thought for most people would be to call the vet.  Instead, I called my husband.

"Honey, something's happened with Freddie.  He's been attacked somehow.  I can't deal.  I can't handle this.  Call him.  Find out what's going on and call me back."

Have you ever wondered how you would react in an emergency or an emergency like your pet getting eaten by wild animals?  Would you panic?  Would you freeze?  Would you know what to do?  Would you choose not to deal and let your spouse deal with it?

Yeah, me too.

Long, long story short, it seems that a pack of coyotes got into our yard sometime in the night.  Our other dog was in her doghouse, but our Freddie, well sweet Freddie would just sleep where ever.  Of course we'll never know exactly what happened, but we have lots of bunnies in our yard, so we have a feeling that the coyotes were looking for a late night snack and stubbled upon our dear Freddie.




Unfortunately, Freddie didn't make it.  There was too much damage to his little body and he was too old to survive the surgery.  We had adopted Freddie when we moved to California so we had 5 great years with him.  To give too much thought to how he died is just that...too much.  Heartbreaking is a good word for it.

Obviously we did not tell the boys what happened.  The Cheese would never step outside again if we told him the truth.  Instead, I simply told them that Freddie had passed away in his sleep, which I like to believe that he did.

"Mom?  Can we go adopt another dog?  Can we give another dog a good home?" the Cheese asked through a sniffle.

Every bone in my body wanted to say,  "Yes, sweetie.  Of course we can.  Get your shoes.  Let's go right now."

Instead I said, "No, sweetie.  Not right now.  Let's just love on the ones we still have."


1 comment :

Jill Fritts said...

Poor sweet baby. I'm sorry friend.