There is another dog in Heaven.
This one, to be precise.
My little Fionnzy Bunzy. Or, as I affectionately called him "Shithead". Mammy told me not to call him that though, cos she claimed he knew what I was saying. If he really knew what I was saying though, he would know that it was an expression of love. I also called him "Snooklepop", but that was mostly on Tuesdays.
Fionn was the best dog you could ever find in your long legged life. In fact, he was scientifically proven (by me) to be The Best Boy in Ireland.
Ten years ago my Nanny died (shout out to Nanny Alice in Heaven - best nanny ever!) and Mammy sent Daddy out to get a little dog for Grandad to keep him company in the house, since his own dog had died a bit before Nanny. Daddy went down to rescue a dog, and that's when he saw little Fionn. He couldn't believe his luck and brought the dog home to show Mammy.
Now before Fionn came onto the scene, we always had big dogs, and Mammy was terrified of them. They weren't allowed even look at the house, never mind come into it. Whenever they came within a three mile radius of Mammy she ran screeching into the house, so when she reached out and gingerly brushed the tip of her finger off the top of Fionn's head, we knew this dog was special.
"He's too lively for your Grandad!", she said, "but we can keep him, the poor little fella. From now on his name is Fionn."
I still remember that day, Daddy came to collect me from school. I believe I was going through my grunge phase at that time.
"There is a surprise in the house," he said.
"Is there?", I said, wondering what it was, since the last "surprise" there was at the house for me was an excercise trampoline.
We got home and when he opened the door this little red streak of madness came out to greet me. I couldn't believe it! After our last big dog went to the big farm in the sky Mammy said we weren't to have any more dogs.
Straight away he became one of the family. He was stone mad alright, and he was always up for a mess, but he would also sit down and watch the telly with you of an evening.
He went for weekend retreats to Grandad's house, and he would come home Sunday nights worn out after the two of them had been tormenting the living daylights out of each other for two days straight.
As he got older he mellowed out a lot. Every time you would sit down, he would plant his arse right on your foot. And if you were sitting cross-legged, shaking your foot, he would come over and put his back up against your shaking foot, thus receiving a nice relaxing back massage.
He also loved blankets. You could be sitting on the couch eating a prime rib and he wouldn't look at you even out of his side eye, but the mnute you whipped out a blanket, by god, he was up on your lap before the blanket was even over you!
He really was like my little brother. Mammy is fairly sure she gave birth to him anyway. He was her little buddy in the house. He followed her around every day as she was doing her bit of pottering. She used to sing him a special song and he used to love it. Once or twice when my parents went away I stayed there to mind Fionn and he would take to padding around after me. It's a nice feeling, having another little person who wants to follow you around and be with you while you are doing mundane things such as ironing.
In the evenings though, he was all about Daddy. Himself and Daddy would disappear into the spare room to watch the match. Daddy would have a bag of crisps and then Fionn would lick the paper. Or one time, Daddy had two small bags of crisps and he ate the first one and gave Fionn the paper. Daddy was wondering in the back of his mind how Fionn was making so much noise with the paper, but he was watching the match so he didn't take any notice. A while later he put his hand out for the other bag of crisps only to find that Fionn was after opening them and eating them and that's what all the noise was about!
Then yesterday, Daddy called me and said
"I have a bit of bad news for you Jen."
"Is it Fionn?"
"It is girl."
He had a tumor on his liver and while the vet was operating he had a heart attack and died. It was better he went that way anyway because otherwise he would have had to be put down.
Poor little Fionn. He was such a good boy.
After I hung up the phone I went into BBB's room where he was studying with his friend. Obviously I was hysterical.
His friend said "Don't worry - you can get another little puppy and raise it"
I wanted to stab him in the face.
You can shove your fucking puppy up your arse!
I know he was trying to be helpful, but for your information readers, when someone's dog dies, the last thing they want is for you to suggest that their little buddy is replaceable.
I am balling and roaring because it hurts SO bad, but at the same time I expect him to be there waiting for me the next time I fly home. That's when it'll really hit me.
At the end of the day though, I just have to think that Fionn was lucky to be rescued by us and that we were lucky to find him. He was the best boy and one of the family and we had a great ten years together.
R.I.P. Fionn, much loved little brother and The Best Boy in Ireland.