Our beloved Jack Russell Terrier Gracie died on June 27. She had been with us fourteen and a half years, and her passing left our house an empty, lonely place. In almost forty years of marriage, my wife and I had never been without a pet, and Gracie was special. Within a few days of Gracie's passing, my wife happened to notice a classified ad in our local paper. A family was moving and needed to find a good home for an AKC-registered six-month-old Parsons Russell Terrier named Phineas. We went to see him on July 6, and that was that. It was just meant to be. Gracie will always hold a special place in our hearts, but "Phiney" is doing an admirable job filling the empty spaces and has already won us over. He is a real character. --EFP
(Palm-Print
Photo by Edward F. Palm)
Photo by Edward F. Palm)
About Me
- Edward F. Palm
- Forest, Virginia, United States
- A long time ago, my sophomore English teacher, Father William Campbell, saw something in my writing and predicted that I would someday become a newspaper columnist. He suggested the perfect title for my column--"Leaves of the Palm." Now that I have a little extra time on my hands I've decided to put Father Campbell's prediction to the test. I'm going to start using this blog site not just to reprint opinion pieces I've published elsewhere but to try to get more of my ideas and opinions out there. Feedback is welcome. To find out more about me, please check out my Web site: www.EdwardFPalm.com (Click on any of the photos below for an enlarged view.)
Showing posts with label Jack Russell Terrier. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jack Russell Terrier. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Monday, October 5, 2009
Gracie in the Attack--10-04-09
This is how I have to start every day--playing "big ball" with our 14-year-old Jack Russell terrier "Gracie." There is life in the old girl yet! --EFP
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
A Personal Aside: She Who Must Be Obeyed!
My wife and I have a 14-year-old Jack Russell Terrier, “Gracie,” who runs our lives. She is starting to slow down a bit, but she remains as stubborn and willful as when we first got her.
Last fall, right after Thanksgiving, my wife and I took stock of our situation and decided it was time to go on a diet. We’ve been doing “South Beach,” and it has worked well for us. I’ve lost over 40 pounds; my wife, Andrea, has lost over 30. Gracie too could stand to lose a bit. She has broadened out over the last year in particular. But she is just not getting with the program.
She especially seems to miss the desserts we used to indulge in--ice cream, cakes, or pies. Instead, we often have sugar-free instant pudding, made with skim milk and topped with fat-free, sugar-free Cool Whip. We find it satisfying, and Gracie makes do. She insists on licking out the custard cups after we’re done.
The thing is, what Gracie looks forward to, Gracie considers to be her contractual right.
Last night, as we often do, Andrea and I went our separate ways after dinner—she to the living room to watch “America’s Got Talent” and I to the study to putter around.
Around 8:00 p.m. “She Who Must Be Obeyed” came trotting in to the study to find me. Gracie immediately started jumping up on me and whining, as she generally does when she has to go outside. (If you own a dog, you know that asking to go out is behavior you have to reinforce.) So I stopped what I was doing and let Gracie lead me along.
Instead of leading me to the door, however, Gracie led me straight to the refrigerator.
Andrea, who was watching this, and snickering to herself, filled me in. She had already had her pudding, so Gracie had gotten only half her tribute for the evening. She was now demanding the other half. She was demanding that I have my pudding.
Lesson learned: As Gracie sees it, if one of us has dessert, the other one must have dessert.
Ah, the joys of living with a geriatric Jack Russell Terrier!
--EFPP.S. My wife maintains that she named Gracie after a shy and gentle classmate she knew in grade school. I maintain that she was named after Grace Slick of Jefferson Airplane fame.
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