Tigger's Sweet Sixteen Centenary

Our old dog turned sweet sixteen today.  And what a sweet life it has been! We got him in May 2000.  I remember that while he was made ready for us to bring home, my then boyfriend, Josh, drove me home and while he went back to pick him up, I ran over to Petsmart to stock up on everything dog.  

Tigger, 3 months old , enjoying his first dog bed

I never had a dog growing up.  I fell in love with West Highland Terriers from a calendar I picked up at a local mall when I was about 18. I think it was a law of attraction thing.  Every year, I bought a new Westie calendar knowing that one day, I would have a Westie.  Let's just say Josh scored major boyfriend brownie points.

We named him Tigger because when he got home, he never seemed to stop pouncing on things.  His favorite games were related to hunting things down.  He loved when we would hide things and he had to find them.  He was quite good.


Tigger was a stubborn puppy from the start.  Training him to walk on a lead and to signal when he needed to go definitely took more time than we anticipated.  It was prep work for the human children that would soon follow.

This was Tigger's favorite toy at the beginning.
He loved latching on to it and having us
spin him around in the air.

Tigger became a world traveler at 9 months old when we traveled to Germany to visit Josh's parents who were stationed there.  It was the first of many trips across the pond that eventually led to living abroad. While at home, he frequently joined us on local trips and on visits to Florida where the mother who never cared to give me a dog as a child, was delighted by him and his personality. She even kept him in her home when we went on our honeymoon in 2001.

It was in my mother's home with the help of my younger brother that Tigger developed several new habits.  My brother taught him how to bark and the wonders of being fed hamburger by hand.  See, Tigger missed us so much while we were away that he stopped eating. My brother began hand feeding him hamburger and that was the start of the daily circling of the table to see if we would indulge him in the better tasting food he had been exposed to in FL.

Tigger loved my mother.  My mother would speak to him in a high pitched voice that you would use with a young child.  This would get him so excited that we learned it was best that he greet my mom outside the house due to his related accidents and bring him in once he calmed down.

In those first 2 years, Tigger was our child. We played with him, fed him, taught him how to signal to us when he needed to go, took him to the dog park and took him with us to PetSmart on shopping trips. He developed a new favorite toy in the form of plastic soda bottles that he would play soccer with and chew on because he delighted in the noise.

Then this happened:

Tigger eagerly waiting for us to throw a him the ball.

Tigger did not know what to make of this person who was smaller than he was.  He was very nervous at first.  But he became Nicholas' greatest protector. We lived in an apartment at the time and our first of many blizzards in February 2003.  We had to clear snow from our cars that were parked right next to our son's window.  We took the baby monitor with us and left baby sleeping and Tigger on the bay window of the Nick's room   When Nicholas woke up from his nap, all we could hear on the monitor were gurgling sounds interspersed with barking.  He was alerting us that the creature had woken up.  He always looked after Nick.

We moved to Florida that summer.  Tigger now had extended family nearby and he was always so excited when people came to visit or when we brought him somewhere to visit.  He always loved when we included him. 

Then, this happened:

Mikayla was not the most gentle with Tigger,
but she was the most creative. Hair bows anyone?

Sadly, before Mikayla's arrival, and possibly due to hormones, I found another Westie that I thought would be a great addition to our family. We brought the new Westie home a few days before I found out that Mikayla was on the way.  Tigger did not share my thoughts. Never make a decision while pregnant, whether it is a new haircut or a dog.  

Meeko (another Disney animal) was not Tigger.  He was the bull in the china shop.  Tigger hated him.  If we were spending any individual time with Tigger, Meeko would break it up and Tigger would sigh and go elsewhere.  Meeko wanted to play Tigger was between 5-7 at the time and he couldn't care less about playing with Meeko despite playing with us every chance he got.

Tigger became an expat a few month later when we moved to Warsaw, Poland.  In some ways, life with the two dogs and kids became easier because I was not working and I had household help.  I could dedicate more time to everyone.  During this time, if they were not raveling with us, Tigger and Meeko would spend their holidays in my housekeeper's country home.  They loved it out there.  

All our crazies circa 2008 Poland after being separated
all summer.

We came back to Virginia in 2009.  Tigger was not doing well.  To be honest with you, I think he was very depressed.  He lost his appetite.  I returned to work and the kids were in school and there was no one at home except for this crazy Westie.  Tigger became aggressive with Meeko.  It was not a good situation.  We decided that it would be best to find Meeko a new family.  It was a very difficult decision, but we found a family with two boys who adopted him.

That week, when Tigger realized that Meeko was not coming home, he was ecstatic.  His appetite returned. The lesson learned was every dog deserves to be "the" dog and that two male dogs are not ever a good idea.

After a few years in the hardship posting that is DC, we headed out again to Austria.  Tigger was in heaven.  The Viennese may not have cared for Americans, but they loved their dogs and we were always stopped by someone while out for a walk.  Tigger had a field day marking his territory every few feet around the neighborhood.  There were that many dogs. 

Due to poor planning on our employer's part, we ended up having to move around the block from our first home in Vienna.  This was just a bonus for Tigger who was the only dog among the American children who lived there and they loved him.  Tigger would join the kids every afternoon after school while they played outside.  

Getting ready for the European Road Trip

But, he was slowing down.  While he still traveled all over Europe with us, we could no longer take him out like we used to.  He would tire out much more quickly.  Last year, we learned that we were heading to the UK. Tigger was turning 15.  We found it fitting that we would be bringing him to his homeland for his swan song (this breed is from the West Highlands of Scotland). 

We were lucky to find a family to stay with him while we went home to the States for the summer. The headache of trying to bring him back to the UK aside, we were concerned about him traveling in cargo at his age.  

He had an awesome time with his host family, but he was so happy when we came back to bring him to our new home.  And we could not have asked for a better place for him to spend his twilight years: a house with a large backyard and a hedge leading to a secret garden with an apple orchard.  

He spent all fall in that apple orchard getting his fill of apple snacks and rolling around in the grass and sometimes mud (more than I would have liked). 

This week, as his 16th birthday approached, he became sick. He had been sick before and usually with some rest, he would get better.  But, the next morning, he was barely moving, eating or drinking.  He could not walk.  We took him to the vet and he had a 105 degree fever and could not stand.  Our choices were to put him down, pump him full of antibiotics and IV fluids and hope for a marked recovery by morning, or run invasive tests.  We opted for antibiotics and IV fluids and prepared for the worse while hoping that he would be ok.  It was the saddest night of my life since the night my father died almost 27 years ago.  I cried myself to sleep for the first time in recent memory.

Yesterday, morning came and with that, the phone call from the vet.  Tigger made a recovery.  The treatment had worked and he was standing, walking, eating and drinking again.  We could bring him home.  He was wobbly, but walking and circling our dinner table once more that evening.

Today, he celebrates his 16th birthday in human years and crossed the threshold to centenarian at 112. We figured that at this point, he deserved a cupcake to celebrate what may be his last birthday.

Happy Birthday, sweet, loyal Tigger!  We love you!

Update: I'm pretty bad at math. 16 years is 112 in dog years even though Josh says dog years vary by breed. I didn't know that so I looked it up and there is a calculator. Looks like Tigger will be demoted back to 75. Maybe he can stick around a bit longer.

You can find out your dogs age by breed here: http://www.ajdesigner.com/fl_dog_age/dog_age.php