In Memory of
our beloved GSPs
Our 2010 alumnus Biz, formerly Biscuit, has left for the Rainbow Bridge. His mom Kate is the very talented artist who donated our calendar contest prize sculpture.
Biz’s foster mom Debbie fostered Biz for a long time before Biz found Kate and Stan, his forever family. Of course, their pack, Druid, Dash and Jasmine, the Greyhounds and Devon, the Poodle approved of him first. Biz had been abandoned as a young pup. A rescue group took him in and he was taken in by a family who two years later gave him up. Sadly, he had not been well fed or ever loved.
His mom Kate in a loving tribute said, Biz was an abundant, joyful personality. So darn cute to look at and so different in every way from any other breed that had been with us. For most dogs it would take about 6 months before they are feeling safe in a new home. At the end of two weeks, he had made the adjustment and adapted easily into our routine. He demonstrated to us that his job was patrolling the fence and gate. For the next 9 years, every daybreak he would race through the dog door and happily announce to us (and the world) that we could relax, he was on duty. He raced up the fence line reporting, through his barks, the imminent danger of cars, trucks, bikes, walkers, and horseback riders that came past our property. His barks were never threatening - more like “hear ye, hear ye.”
In my experience, dogs generally arrive in my life for a reason. I wasn’t certain of it when Biz came but barely 6 weeks later, Druid Prince, our Greyhound was badly injured and died. Barely a month later, Dash, our black Greyhound, became ill and died. As Biz nestled against us and rested his head on our laps, we realized he had come to ease the loss of our boys.
Biz suffered terribly from storm anxiety. When Covid hit everyone was staying home. The summers of 2020/2021 were quite different because during storms, I would go sit on the couch, wrap Biz in a towel and just let him shake until the storm passed. He was zoned out with storm terror, but I just loved him and the bond between us deepened. Seldom is there a dog who enters my life without some lesson for me to learn. I began to observe the great accuracy that Biz had in predicting storms. His tail would go down in stages until it was hugged tightly under his belly. We learned that within 20 minutes a storm would be here. He was more accurate than the local forecasters.
Jake, our Great Pyrenees had come as a foster and of course I failed miserably, and he became another forever dog. Jake and Biz had their own strange working relationship. Jake took the floor by the window as his territory where he could do his “secret service” thing. He would let out a woof at whatever he saw passing by and if Biz was napping, he would levitate off his bed with high pitched yippings - “I’m coming, I'm on it, whatever it is I’ve got it.” and out he’d race to the gate. I think sometimes Jake just woofed to pull Biz’s chain, but I knew they were buddies because when we took walks, they’d walk shoulder to shoulder- touching a little.
Jake died a few days before Christmas 2022. Biz went into deep mourning and refused to eat for 5 days. He had always been Jake's underling and now he realized HE WAS IN CHARGE! The transformation was impressive. He paid absolutely no attention to his tumor and was in and out of the house every few minutes, patrolling. Never have we had a Top Dog who was as diligent in his protective role as this little “Pocket Pointer”. He went at top speed until the 13th of April. It seemed that almost overnight his tumor had become huge. Rimadyl was no longer keeping him out of pain. He let us know it was time. With aching hearts, we helped him go to the Rainbow Bridge the next day.
Was it difficult? To the max! But it was JUST difficult. What will be impossible is forgetting this magnificent soul. It will be impossible to forget the cold nose reminding me it is time to make dinner; Impossible not to visualize the amazing spring he had in his walk even to the very end. Impossible not to feel a tear when there is no white ticked body racing to welcome us home, then with a quick “Hi, glad your back” he’d race into the house kicking his heels high in that special way he had.
Lesson learned, my beloved friend. Happy travels.
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