Missing "Woo" -- Family/Pet Remembrance Thread

Crossposted to DailyKos. Bumped and promoted. Originally posted 2010-11-07 10:50:39 -0500. -- GH

Missy the Malamute -- aka "Missy Woo" aka "Missydog" aka "Woo" aka "Woo-woo Girl" -- has been gone several years now, but we miss her presence every day. When I came across this tearjerker story about a dedicated dog who, 5 months after his owner died, still waits by the side of the road for his return, my memories of Missy and her phenomenal level of both dedication and intelligence came flooding back even more strongly.Hat-tip JRichards33 of DelphiForums Below the fold is one story of Missy's loyalty, and how -- in spite of that -- she was still an outspoken dog. Feel free to share your own story of dedication, loyalty and love in comments.

This remembrance is dedicated to all who have known, loved and lost special pooties and woozles, as well as those who still have their amazing pets to learn from, grow with and share their lives with.

The following is the story I shared:

The first time I had to travel overnight w/o her, my roommate called and told me that Missy hadn't come out of my bedroom for 2 days in spite of heavy coaxing attempts. She hadn't eaten, drank or gone to the bathroom; she was curled up under my desk and wouldn't come out.

I had my friend put me on speakerphone.

I whistled for Missy, who came out and looked at the phone. I told her to take care of my roommate, and to be a good girl -- to go outside and potty, then come in and have a bite to eat and some water.

Missy looked up at my roommate as if to say "Ok, 'cmon" then walked to the back door. She went out, went to the bathroom, came back inside, took a single bit of her kibble and a lap of water. She then returned to phone and looked at it expectantly.

My roommate, with a wry tone in her voice, relayed the events.

I told Missy she was a good girl and to listen to my roommate, and she went back to the bedroom. She would repeat the sequence the next day w/o need for the phone call whenever my roommate called her.

On the day I came home, I called and said I'd be back in "two hours"...Missy had a great sense of time, and I'd always communicated things in terms of "two hours" or "lunch time" or "dinner time" so she must've developed it then.

I was late, by almost an hour.

She greeted me when I finally got home, then disappeared for 20 minutes as if to give me time to settle in. When she figured it was time, she walked over to where I sat on the couch and started angrily "woo-wooing" at me, swinging her head emphatically as if stressing certain phrases or "woo-words."

She then turned with a flourish of her head and tail and started to walk away, stiff-legged. Her head popped up and she swung around as if remembering something else, woo-woo'd a few more choice tidbits at me, nodded her head as if in self-approval of her tirade, and stalked off.

My roommate burst out laughing.

"You were just scolded by your dog!"

Yes. Yes, I was. Thoroughly.

I have many more stories -- some, you've seen and read already as part of the Woo Tales, and others I have yet to share.

Please share yours with us in the comments below.


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You never forget your best friends. Not ever.

A few months ago, I got an earful recently from one of my cats. He just had a very serious infection and resulting in a few days at the vets.

It started with a stubborn bladder infection. It would clear up with antibiotics and then just come back a couple of months later. He finally was put on a special diet, subcutaneous fluids, antibiotics, only to go on to lose an enormous amount of weight. You see, he just wouldn't eat wet food. The trips to the vet were getting more and more frequent but thankfully his blood work kept showing he was getting better. But he was still dropping weight at an alarming rate.

I tried everything. I force fed him the high calorie nutritional substitute. Every kind of wet food out there. I cooked fish and put it in the food processor. I made gravy from just drippings. I couldn't get him to eat.

I was at my wits end and the only thing left was to offer him dry food. Which he slowly dropped his head into the bowl and began crunching on one kibble at a time. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

At this point, he's on the upswing but I had to go out of town for a week. What to do? Fortunately, the vet agreed to board him for a nominal fee. He got his regular fluids and antibiotics as well as attention in case there was a turn for the worse while I was away.

When I got to the vets to pick him up, the vet laughed and said, "Your cat didn't say anything the entire time he was here. In fact, he looked around at the other animals making a lot of noise, said, 'I don't want anything to do with them,' turned his back and went to sleep in the corner. He's really quiet and not very friendly."

"Funny thing is, he's the lap cat at home. He's the one who stands on my chest in the morning to tell me it's time to wake up. He's very chatty." I am looking at the cat who doesn't say one peep to back me up.

I thank the vet, pay the bill, and head out to the car.

I'm not 5 steps out the door when the cat starts talking. And talking. And talking. All of the way home, he talked. And then talked some more for good measure. I got the impression he was telling me all of the insanely crazy things he had just seen and heard at the vets over the last few days. "And you won't believe what the white poodle had to say..."

I just laughed, if only the vet knew.


an "internal" personality -- one for strangers/strange environs, one for friends/family.

Missy used to hate to "Woo-woo" on command, but at some point must've realized how smart others thought she was for "speaking" when asked, so she started to get into it enthusiastically.

Jack, another Malamute, is becoming more talkative but has a bit of a way to go before he's the master communicator that Missy was.

My cat Tina, who passed on last year, would talk to me frequently. "Maah!" "Maaah!" One day when Margaret had to take her to the vet, they did an ultrasound on her. Of course they shaved her tummy. After they were done, Tina was allowed to roam on the floor while the vet and Margaret talked. At one point, the vet said, "well, she is rather obese; she needs to lose some weight." Tina, who had been investigating the room until then, looked up at her and said, loudly, "MAAAAH!" As if to say, "don't you DARE call me fat!"

I miss that cat.


Missy seemed to understand a lot, particularly when we were talking about her, esp. if it had to do with cutting back her access to food or treats.

Uncannily so.