Grandma Henke

I don’t know how Ozzy’s big heart fit in his little 12 pound body of kinky white hair and fluff. His big brown expressive eyes revealed his unique personality and his love for every member of our family. He loved with his whole body and his enthusiasm was impossible to ignore. He knew how to smile and was the happiest little Bichon Frise on four feet. He spent his entire life trying to make people happy and show his affection and he wanted so much to be a good boy.

He was the tiniest little round ball of fur when we got him at 6 weeks old. I carried him around in a purse and he went everywhere I went,  and he loved it. He spent his first two years going to work with me, sleeping on my desk or beneath it in a little basket, until he got started taking on too much office responsibility and started noisily greeting everyone who entered the office and had to be let go. How sad he was the first day I left for work without him.

He played hard, running through the house as fast as his little legs would carry him. “Look at him go! Look at that dog run! Just look at him go!”  would send him off at high speeds around the couches and down the hall, into the kitchen and dining room and back around the couches. He particularly loved to play that game with Lynn as he got home from work.

He loved his wart hog and would carry it around the house and lay with it under his chin. It had to be sewed together many times. We tried replacing it with a new one but it was the old one he was drawn to,  so we sewed it together again. It slept with him in our bed at night.

He could say “outside” .   He’d come up to me and whisper “outside” and not his head when he needed to go out to the backyard. I’d say, “What?” (like I didn’t understand him) and he’d again whisper “outside” and nod his head.   I’d tease, “Ohhhhh, you need to go outside?” and he’d wiggle and bark and turn in circles and run to the door so I could let him out.

He loved his treats and would often ask to go outside just so he could come back inside and have a treat. He was addicted to chocolate and it is a wonder that he didn’t die from chocolate poisoning. He once ate two packages of brownie mix that we inadvertently left in a sack on the floor after a shopping trip to Costco. I gave him a lot of water and he threw up puddles and puddles and puddles of brown pudding. He got into Halloween Candy and Easter Candy and any candy he could sniff out and reach. He would hide it under the cushion of his bed and behind the couches , and always it made him so sick he would throw up but it never stopped him from eating it.

He slept in our bed and it was a running thing between him and my husband who got to sleep the closest to me. Ozzy would growl at Lynn if he rolled too close and Lynn would growl at Ozzy, and Ozzy would growl back.   Lynn talked to Ozzy often about whose house it was and who was really in charge but Ozzy never paid attention because he also know whose house it was and who was in charge.

Ozzy loved to watch tv with his Mama, curled up on my lap, my fingers running through his hair scratching his back and belly. I could hardly ever sit down that he didn’t want to sit on my lap and love me. Sometimes on the lounge chair he would lay by my feet and lick them. He seemed to sense that my feet hurt and wanted them to feel better.  It felt good to have his soft tongue massage my sore feet.

He thought that everyone who came to the door came to see him. I had to work hard to train him to stay in his bed unless he was given permission to say his wiggly hello’s.  I never could control him when a family member came. He loved them all and couldn’t stop jumping and wiggling to greet them. He would climb on their laps and kiss and love them and was so happy when he received love back.

He hated it when we got out our suitcases. He knew we were going to leave him and he would follow me around pleading with his eyes that I not go or that I take him with me. Last Thursday as he saw us packing up the camper he followed us back and forth looking from the suitcases and packages to me, pleading again with his big brown eyes. I said, “Ozzy, this time you are going. This is a test, though. You have to be an extra good boy. You can’t bark at camp and bother the other campers and you have to stay on a leash and can’t go running off. If you can do that you will get to go with us a lot and it will be a lot of fun.”   He was a perfect little camper. He smiled the entire time and was so good not to bark and whine to get free. He loved to play near the children by the creek and sit on my lap and watch everything. He absolutely was thrilled to climb into bed with Lynn and I at night and walk with me down to the bathroom in the dark. I could tell he was going to be the perfect little camper.

Saturday morning he woke up a bundle of happy energy, all smiles and just so happy to be alive and with us. I was holding him when Angi walked over and he went nuts to see her and be loved by her too. She took him with her over to the picnic table to eat and he wanted to go for a walk so my seven year old grand daughter, Chloe, took him by the leash and they walked down the road. I didn’t realize they had gone and when I heard the screaming and dogs barking near the bathroom it didn’t even cross my mind that Chloe and Ozzy were in harms way.

The barking got louder and more frantic and suddenly Chloe was running into camp with tears streaming down her cheeks screaming “A big mean dog is tearing Ozzy to pieces. Help him! Help him!”  My heart just sank as my son, Brett, and I took off running down the street. The man in the next camp went running ahead of us.   It was quiet when we reached the bottom of the hill and I couldn’t stand to look so Brett went ahead and called down to me to not come up. I just stood in the road and sobbed.   My poor little Ozzy,  my best little friend.   I couldn’t believe it had happened so fast.

Thank goodness Lynn had been coming out of the restroom as Chloe and Ozzy arrived and he was there to help Chloe. Ozzy had seen a big pit bull walking down the road and barked. The instant the pit bull saw them he started running fast and growling. Lynn said he could tell the dog’s intent was to kill and that it all happened so fast there was nothing anyone could do.  Chloe tried to pick up Ozzy to protect him and Lynn had to order her to let him go or she would have been right in the middle of the attack.  He tried to get to Oz but by then the dog had him by the throat and was shaking him and shaking him and shaking him and no one could do a thing. The dog’s owner was right there but there was nothing she could do. She broke her finger and got bit quite badly trying to pry her dog’s locked jaws open. It was just horrific. I’m sure Ozzy’s neck was broken immediately and hopefully he didn’t feel pain. He bravely stood his ground in front of Chloe trying to protect her. Tiny little Ozzy didn’t back down against that huge monster of a dog. I got to him while he was barely alive and held him in my arms, looked once more into those beautiful brown eyes that asked me “Did I do okay Mama? Am I a good boy?” “Yes, Ozzy, you are a good boy”, I whispered as his heartbeat slowed to a stop.

Everyone was crying. Even people we didn’t know were upset that such a vicious dog would be unrestrained in the campground. The police came, but it was all too late.  Ozzy was gone. He lived his life for his family and he gave his life for his family.

You wouldn’t think a 12 pound ball of fur could save someone’s life, but he did and I am forever grateful to him for that. Our hearts are broken that such a tragic, horrible thing like this could happen in such a peaceful, beautiful, family environment. All of the six grandchildren there were traumatized as well as all of us adults and people from the other camps.

We will miss his happy face in the window every time we drive into the driveway. The house seems way too empty already. Chloe sprinkled brownie mix and emptied an entire package of M&M’s into his grave. Steele wanted to be the one to fill the hole with dirt so Grandpa wouldn’t have to. What a tender little boy. They planted orange “merry golds around it because Ozzy loved his orange blanket and was such a merry happy little guy. We will never forget our littlest hero.

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