I've been getting a lot of nice emails from listeners. Many of them mention my sweet little dachshund noodles, often the butt of jokes on the Curtis and Kuby and John Gambling shows.
Many of your letters suggest I'll be able to spend more time with Noodles, now that I'm out of a job.
Unfortunately, I won't. My best friend died just days after I was fired. It was bad week for George.
Earlier on the day of his death, I was playing catch with the little guy. He was jumping around, licking my face and cuddling next to me on the living room sofa. I went out for a while. Came back. Usually when I come in to the house, you can ear noodles little nails rattling against the hard wood floors as he darts out of bed and into my arms. That afternoon, I didn't hear the pitter patter. I found him sleeping in his little doggie bed next to my bed. Still, I left a bowl of food for him so that when he woke up, he'd have something to eat. He never woke up. Sometime while I was gone, Noodles took his final breath. I only wish I was next to him when he did. I felt his body and it was cold, his body stiff and yet he lay there just like he always did. I'm crying now like I did endlessly for hours after he died . I couldn't sleep. I couldn't sleep with his lifeless body laying right next to me. The next day I carried him over to my vet, who lives next door and had her take away my best friend. He will live on in my memories, photos and stories. One that comes to mind is a year or so before my first dachshund, Romer, died, Noodles came rushing into the living room, barking, turning and running towards the back porch. He did this several times until I got my fat ass off the sofa and followed him. Tail wagging, he was looking over the balcony and 10 feet below, where Romer had fallen. He was all muddy and tangled in a garden hose. He was in convulsions. Romer, though. would be fine. Not a single broken bone, but it was Noodles who sensed something was wrong and like Lassie, summoned me for help. Noodles was just 8 years old and even in doggie years, he was too young to die. I'll miss ya little buddy.
Many of your letters suggest I'll be able to spend more time with Noodles, now that I'm out of a job.
Unfortunately, I won't. My best friend died just days after I was fired. It was bad week for George.
Earlier on the day of his death, I was playing catch with the little guy. He was jumping around, licking my face and cuddling next to me on the living room sofa. I went out for a while. Came back. Usually when I come in to the house, you can ear noodles little nails rattling against the hard wood floors as he darts out of bed and into my arms. That afternoon, I didn't hear the pitter patter. I found him sleeping in his little doggie bed next to my bed. Still, I left a bowl of food for him so that when he woke up, he'd have something to eat. He never woke up. Sometime while I was gone, Noodles took his final breath. I only wish I was next to him when he did. I felt his body and it was cold, his body stiff and yet he lay there just like he always did. I'm crying now like I did endlessly for hours after he died . I couldn't sleep. I couldn't sleep with his lifeless body laying right next to me. The next day I carried him over to my vet, who lives next door and had her take away my best friend. He will live on in my memories, photos and stories. One that comes to mind is a year or so before my first dachshund, Romer, died, Noodles came rushing into the living room, barking, turning and running towards the back porch. He did this several times until I got my fat ass off the sofa and followed him. Tail wagging, he was looking over the balcony and 10 feet below, where Romer had fallen. He was all muddy and tangled in a garden hose. He was in convulsions. Romer, though. would be fine. Not a single broken bone, but it was Noodles who sensed something was wrong and like Lassie, summoned me for help. Noodles was just 8 years old and even in doggie years, he was too young to die. I'll miss ya little buddy.
