Welcome to Scrappy's Rainbow Residency

Memories of Scrappy

Scrappy loved chasing birds, and even fixed on the Goodyear blimp once as if mulling over whether it was worth going after. She also loved sniffing flowers, even the african violets I grow in the kitchen; I would lift them down for her to stick her nose in the purple petals. I always loved sniffing her coat and paws. A dog's paws, to paraphrase Michael Ondaatje in his English Patient, hold a world of scents, of grassy hills and clean woods. Sometimes her coat smelled like Doritos. Or of candy. Right after a grooming she just smelled pretty. And minus the fast-growing Cairn fringe her eyes were big and brown as anything and carried a playful glint. Scrappy came with me to England from Los Angeles, where I took ownership of her (or her of me) in 1988 when our landlady, who had found her wandering on the street, wasn't able to keep her any longer. She was still a puppy with needly little teeth, and it took a week or so for me to teach her, 'Kiss, no bites'. While she stopped chewing on my fingers, my books and shoes weren't so lucky. It wasn't until she was one and a half that she settled into being the feisty but gentle little friend who was my constant for 13 happy years. Sometimes Scrappy buried her food, which had to be canned or of the people variety. Most of the time she'd eat it right away and then clean her face on the carpet afterwards. She loved her bonios (like milkbones) until she couldn't break them anymore because of the ulcers in her mouth from her renal failure. But she still carried one downstairs whenever the doorbell rang to woof -- with the bone still in her mouth -- at whoever was there. When Paul met her he thought blowing razberries on her belly was funny. Scraps would wriggle all over and try to jump up and run away, until she got used to them. Thereafter she'd just sigh and give him a look, and continue with her nap. She gave Paul kisses all the time. We figured it was something in his salt. I didn't get so many kisses, but I was the one she followed everywhere. Even if I said, 'Wait here, I'll be right back,' just to go downstairs to copy something, more often than not she'd follow me. When I went upstairs at night after dinner to do some surfing she'd follow, tho sometimes she would stand at the bottom of the stairs, wagging her tail and looking up at me, waiting for an official invite. Scraps loved to play tug-o-war with Paul over her woolen baby, or the sock off his foot. Blanky-monster was another favorite, with one hand under the blanket stealing her bone then spitting it back at her until she managed to grab it and run off. She missed Paul and his torments terribly whenever he went out, and would lay in the hallway with her ears pointed toward the bathroom so she could hear his car when he came back. Then she'd run downstairs to greet him. When her hearing began to go she wouldn't know he was home till he came up the stairs, but the tail-wagging and whimper routine was unchanged. I know she loved him very much, but as he tends to drop things I think she stuck close to me for safety. :) In '97 here in England, Scraps chased off a burglar who'd let himself into our kitchen late one night while Paul was away. I had no idea someone was in the house till she suddenly went tearing down the stairs, barking in a way I'd never heard before. It sounded vicious. Evidently the burglar thought so too and hightailed it quick, tho I'm not sure he would have had he seen the small terrier behind that bark. It's good for him he did. Scraps was no pushover. Late at night when we watch the American news broadcasts, Scraps usually cuddled beside me on the couch. Not right up next to me, but just partly touching me so she knew if I moved. She was very independent but liked to be part of things, to be where the action was. She was just as content to lay down at my feet for hours while I was on the computer. I'm so sorry you didn't get to spend one last Christmas with us, baby smooch. We would have taken you home if we could just to be with us for the presents, but you were too sick to have enjoyed it. I know you're in a better place now. Find Holly 1 and 2 to play with, and Gram Roswell, who'll make a plate of spaghetti for you and keep you safe and warm till we're all together again. I love you always, fuchi face. "Be a good girl. We'll be back."

Scrappy's People Parent(s), Paul & Mary, would appreciate knowing you have visited their Baby's Residency. Click here to Email Paul & Mary a message, or to send a sympathy card click here. Email this page to a friend.

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