Rest in Peace Schnoofy, June 7th 2010
EXIT SCHNOOFYII THE HAPPY HUMPER – MY MACHO MALTESE LION JUNE 7 2010
It was June 7. 2010 and I am married for almost 3 years with Philip de Haan,(father of two daughters) and as I had no kids but 2 dogs and cats I brought into the marriage, he accepted them as our children. There were SchnoofyII a feisty macho male with a real terrier character, and Dida a super feminine Spanish reddish sheepdog, sweeter than any real woman I could think of. Schnoofy II this little white dog was a real "piss artist" and with this I don't mean he was an alcoholic.... but he liked to piss up against anything that resembled a tree: the foot of a chair, the leg of a table , a doorpost.... and helas this bad habit I have never been able to talk him out of. He also liked to fuck a lot. Even at one point when he had produced a cute but dumb little offspring son called Dingo, Schnoofy still tried to mount his own son... Dingo should have been called Dumbo as he was really the stupidest little dog I ever came across. He should have been the first choice of a nest of six but as I was on vacation when his mother had him, I had the last choice so all the clever looking doggies our macho had produced, were already given away.
Ah well … Dingo and Schnoofy made quite an embarrassing couple specially when the house was full of decent Bed and Breakfast guests or at a party with lots of spectators... the pair would be quite a sexual exhibition. If it was not his son, Schnoofy would try to hump fluffy pillows or even try to fuck big Dida, but as Dida was a taller dog, Schnoofy never quite reached much higher than her kneecaps. So he settled for her tail. And in desperation Schnoofy would even try out some interracial activities with our two Siamese cats. Dingo was not meant to get old, as one day right after Philip and I came back from an extended vacation in Mexico, Dingo was spread out on the couch almost totally disintegrated. The stupid little bugger had eaten half a hash cake our housemate, who looked after my animals in our absence, had left on the table after a party for his stoned friends. Even though he had wisely inserted a cocktail pricker with a note on top of the cake that said SPACECAKE DO NOT TOUCH, he had forgotten that our little four footer liked sweets and could not read. Stoned as my friend and his mates must have been they apparently left the table and passed out, and had totally forgotten to remove the cake and put it in the fridge. So Dingo ate enough space cake to put 4 adults to sleep. It was horrible to see him die round midnight when we took his limp body to the emergency vet.
There was no helping this little thing; his pupils were diluted, his white hair was all a mess with sweat, slime from his mouth and excrement stuck to his ass and in his tail. It was a nightmare not to forget. You have guessed by now that I certainly was not going to let THAT friend ever again look after my home or animals.Meanwhile years went by, and when both Dida as well as Schnoofy were about ten years old little Suzy was brought into the house, also from Spain but that’s another story altogether. Suzy seemed to rejuvenate my two ageing dogs and Schnoofy still had that cheerful strong tred when we walked him daily. He was a proud macho made a lot of noises specially when he met in the park with much bigger dogs, then his Napoleon complex would flair up. At night he was a delight for me to have him by my side. . He loved to sleep against my thigh or upper leg or in winter time rest between my feet to the great dismay of my husband Philip who hated to have dogs IN bed, tolerated them barely on top of the cover but being such a hygiene freak as he was, he constantly kept warning me about how filthy it was to have a dog that walked the street and sniffed all sorts of things he would find or in the park sometimes pe in the filthy water of the lake or liked to roll over in goose shit ---- UNDER the sheets. I was not allowed to kiss my dogs on the nose, but did it anyway and.. till today can say I never picked up any diseases of my beloved animals. Schnoofy was much like his boss, ME, a total insomniac . If I was awake he was awake, often he would make a funny path over the bed , after jumping on the bed via his little staircase a dear friend and carpenter had specially designed for him, as when he got older he could not jump as high as the bed anymore. In the middle of the night he would stand and growl softly to let me know he was ready to come to bed with me, while the other animals and Philip would be asleep. So I clicked with my tongue that it was o.k. to come on top of the bed, then he would jump, walk all over me , make a turn over my head and pe down between the sheets on the other side, then he would sigh real deep and rest his cute head against my thigh and in winter time this woolen animal with the softest of furry skins really was like a wonderful little oven. He was quite a jealous little fellow and I think Suzy's arrival was not what he really had expected and competitive as they were Schnoofy would as he grew even older often retire underneath the bed and lay on a big wooden box full of drawings of a dear friend of mine from Ibiza only in the morning to jump on our bed again and have a little battle with Suzie who was now laying on top of the blankets as Philip had instructed her. Lately we had noticed that Schnoofy had lost not only a lot of teeth, pulled out by the vet but also a lot of weight. He slept almost all day in his red basket at the end of my office desk right underneath the central heating in wintertime. Philip and I had just come back from a 5 week trip to Spain where we had brought along Suzy to accompany us and I was shocked about the state of Schnoofy we found him in.
Arnold our new friend who looked after my Noah's Ark had told me on the phone to Spain that Schnoofy seemed ill and had almost no energy. Two visits to the darling young veterinarian who resembled himself very much a poodle, as he had a big bunch of curly black hair , had given him two sorts of pills. But as he barely could eat anymore Arnold inserted the medication with a little pipet he shoved with some water between his lips. It did not helpAnd so.. Philip and I decided to put Schnoofy down at the age of 12.5 which is exactly when his predecessor SchnoofyI had died. The horrible sounds of the poor dog trying to breath , the near choking and the pressure on his poor little heart were too much for him. For weeks he had apparently been gasping for air so his heart in the end gave out. He was all skin and bones and his big brown eyes looked as if to say to me: "please do not make me suffer any more" .Philip and I were supposed to take a plane to Leeds that same morning at midday where we had to attend a Jewish Theater festival. It was all perfect timing...I carried my dying doggy into the car, early in the morning, after we all said goodbye to him at the house, with tears in our eyes, and there, cuddled against my chest Philip drove in total silence apart from my sobbing noises to the vets office.
I gave him all love I had in me to make his last journey comfortable. The vet listened to his heart and lungs and approved of our decision to end his life. He then gave him one big deep stab with an injection needle in his tummy but as Schnoofy was a strong little fighter he needed a second shot. Not in the heart yet. I held him on my lap and Philip supported the now more peaceful body that once was my favorite animal . Yet he did not want to go yet. A second injection made him suddenly all upset . He put up a final battle, his little almost toothless mouth opened.
wide and he started shrieking horribly loud and gasping for air. The vet said his lungs were full of water and took him to his operating table, rested him there and together with his charming assistant they put an oxygen mask on his face and so fifteen minutes later Schnoofy II died peacefully. Thank God, not like his son, in agony.On our flight to England a few hours later, I cried a river of tears and for days have been weepy. I still see the moment my ex lover Dia and I had chosen this cute little dog from a special Malteser Lion kennel in the South of Holland. He was one of 20 woolen balls that were running around in this family home. He was the first one to run over to me the moment he laid eyes on me. And how I cried with happiness at that time as then too I had just lost my first Schnoofy dog...
So life goes on, and dogs unfortunately never seem to get much older than 12 to 14 years . I can only say that I have NEVER with any of my animals had any real grief other than that sometimes their loud barking or occasional pissing or shitting on the wrong spots would upset me a bit. Yet heartaches NO... NO animal has ever given that to me. Maybe that’s why I don't miss the fact I have had no children, but I do miss my animals...
God Bless Schnoofy II
THE EARLY DAYS: SCHNOOFY AND THE RUSSIAN DRUNKEN SAILOR
One day Vincent, – a handsome chunky man in his late forties with a sweet round face and a pair of friendly grey eyes rang the bell loud and clear early in the morning. He is a friendly man who loves to create a fun ambiance and adores young women who all could easily have been his daughter. He is one of those jolly "decent" taxi drivers, not like a lot of them who are crooks, but … he does some naughty things as well. He is a kind of friendly big brother you can share your secrets with and who will always be there to help you out, if there are any problems you cannot solve on your own. Vincent is a fearless man and if I need a troubleshooter I can also count on him as he can fight like a dog as well.
His heart is at the right place and he loves nothing more than to participate in backgammon tournaments but Vincent loves to cheer up sick kids in hospital when he dresses as a Clini clown and performs his magic tricks.
So for years we have known each other; we don' t often see each other, but always when I need him he miraculously just seems to pop up in my life. We definitely have a kind of telepathic relationship with one another and NO we have never been lovers. If I was in the mood for something "nice" to get high on he knew how to get it to me and it was always Good stuff...
When I started with my Bed and Breakfast business he obviously, as a taxi driver, occasionally would drop by with a client, who was looking for a place to stay. Of course Vincent had to make a living too and he always made sure he made a fair bit of money by charging the client a pretty high commission for his service. That his clients were not ALL easygoing people I will show you in the next story.
One day in 2004 I heard Vincents familiar hooting outside my house while I was sitting behind my computer. The dogs started barking enthusiastically as they recognized the sound of his car sooner than I did. When a few moments later I opened the door I saw him help a giant guy who was apparently pissed as a nute, out of his car. Vincent pushed the man into my door where I prevented him from tumbling over. Meanwhile Vincent took one enormous suitcase out of his trunk, it was full of labels apparently from all over the world.
"What the hell is this fellow all about?" I asked Vincent . After all it is barely 10 am."
"I think it is a Russian captain of a ship who apparently had a late night of boozing and missed his return flight to St. Petersburg. Here please take him in and give him a bed. He will probably sleep for the next 24 hours. " Vincent said as we steered the Russian into my living room.
" I have found his airline ticket and informed the airlines that he missed his flight. So they issued a new ticket for tomorrow morning 11 a.m."
I nodded but had an instant bad feeling about this moron.
"Can I drop him off here and you see to it that he gets to the airport in the morning....I have a job to do out of town and cannot pick him up. By the way here is his passport and the newly issued ticket. The rest is up to you," Vincents sneered at me with a mischievous smile on his cherub face.
I agreed though reluctantly and together we helped the big fellow to sit down at my round table. Soon after Vincent got his fat wallet from the mans pocket and put it on the table. The Russian had not got a clue what was happening and just looked at us with a big grin and watery eyes as if he was in a different world. Then I saw Vincent open the wallet and pull out several hundred dollar notes. All the man was doing now was staring me in my décolleté... while Vincent fumbled with several more notes.
"He man, " I tried to stop Vincent." what do you think you are doing, steeling all his money. Poor guy probably has his whole month salary in there for his entire family. A trip from the airport to here could not be more than Dollar 50 at the most?"
Vincent growled some more at me, then pulled a little white piece of paper from his pocket and used one of the $ 100 bill notes to snort a few lines of coke and offered me some too. I rejected the offer and wanted to keep my head clear. Vincent sniffled heavily and put the package away again together with the bill which he put in his own pocket as well.
"Honey. How much time do you think it took me to straighten out his ticket huh?" and then he pushed another $ 100 bill in my direction for his stay at my B&B . I put the money away and said no more. Vincent go utp and then said a hasty goodbye and out the door he went. The Russian a bit more awake now, with his enormous red bulbous nose and huge claws of hands started hammering on the table and yelling for VODKA. Vincent was gone and I was stuck with this animal.
4 Vodkas further I had had it with this giant , dragged him off his chair and shoved a key to my house in his hands as well as a visiting card with my address on it . A bit later I went to the kitchen to fetch myself a cup of tea and suddenly I heard from the living room an enormous shriek of pain : "Aaaaaaaau" . When I rushed back into the room I saw the man standing next to my table yelling for more vodka as the bottle, neither he nor Vincent had paid for, was now totally empty. He held his big hands in front of his face so all I could see were his teary eyes. I yelled back:"NJET" which means NO in Russian.
I then took a closer look at his face as I came close to him and pulled his hands away and then I saw that his big fat red nose was even redder than before and well with blood that was running down his chin. Apparently what has happened was that while he had tried to pick up Schnoofy the little bugger bit bit him fiercely in the nose as my dog does not like to be picked up by anyone else than his own boss: ME. So this time the vodka was meant to sooth his pain rather than quench his thirst. Luckily I had another bottle of Stolichnaya in the bar and applied it to the man's nose with a tea towel. A little while later I finally managed to get him out of the door while his enormous suitcase was standing in the middle of my living room. He waddled away probably to the next bar he could find. He never even had set foot in his room on the first floor.
About 8 hours later round dinner time I was getting a bit worried about the whereabouts of my guest, so I decided to go look for him, together with a friend who I had invited for dinner. We went from one pub to the other, all right in my neighborhood and everywhere we asked for this man we were told he had been there but had just left again without settling his bill.
At the 5th cafe we were about to enter we saw a police car with sirens on standing outside and two cops were just loading a big man into the police car in a rather rough manner. They were trying to put a set of handcuffs on him but he was putting up a fight. I took my friend by the arm and rushed over to the car yelling:
"Hey... give that man to me, please. That's MY RUSSIAN you are taking away." The cops looked at me stupefied and said: " Ho ho, little lady, what do you mean by MY RUSSIAN. We are just trying to identify this man, who does not speak a word of Dutch, do you know him?"
"Yes, I said as I showed them his passport I had quickly grabbed from my table before dashing out of the house."
"Madame... we are more than delighted to give him back to you , you see he got into a brawl inside this bar a little while ago and as the owner threw him out he stumbled and fell over and now he has a minor brain concussion. You better let him sleep a lot. Thanks Madam, shall we drop him off somewhere?"
And so I pointed in the direction of my house. A little while later the two cops even dragged him up my stairs to his bedroom where I washed his face, and hands and then he passed out like a log until the following morning. Then I heard him under the shower singing loudly some Russian sailor songs no doubt and he appeared in the dining area hungry as a wolf and devoured an enormous breakfast without once asking for a vodka. When he was ready to leave I returned his passport and wallet to him and found my key and visiting card in the hall way. Good I went looking for this man as otherwise he would never have found his way back to my house. Schnoofy growled viciously when the man tried to tap him on the head just before leaving the house, but this time no more blood was being shed.