<div> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><font color="blue">Never posted to you before but we have been mourning for two weeks and I decided to send this on.<br>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p>July 18, 2009</div>
<div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal"><b style="">Alexander’s Ozma of
Oz, Remembered by Her Family Who Loved Her as She Loved Them<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal"><b style=""><o:p> </o:p></b>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">Our sweet, loving Ozma died today. She was the happiest,
most caring and affectionate dog I have ever known. She loved to be patted and
she loved to sleep on the pillows of our bed, right between Carole’s head and
mind. If we stopped patting her, she would paw one of us until we started again
or until one or both of us (dog and/or person) fell asleep. She was my best
friend.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">When Ozma was happy, which was all the time, she would roll
over on her back when called by name and ask to have her belly rubbed. And she
was a perfect Basset – absolutely beautiful in her conformation to the standard
of the breed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">When we drove out to Tait’s Bassets in State College <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Pennsylvania</st1:place></st1:state> seven and a
half years ago, we were told that there had been a misunderstanding and that <font face="Times New Roman, Times, serif">they</font>
had no puppies for us. But John Tait said that he did have a bitch, about 12
weeks old, that he was planning to keep as a breeder because he loved her
mother’s personality and that he might part with her. She was so beautiful,
moved so wonderfully and was such a lovely little dog that we all fell
instantly in love with her. We went out to lunch while John “thought about it,”
and when we r
eturned, we were told the puppy was ours. So we brought her home
and have loved her ever since.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">But living with Ozma was not without some trauma; like her getting
out and going for a stroll down <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Massachusetts
Avenue</st1:address></st1:street> until, after a frantic search throughout
Kalarama, we got a call from the Norwegian Embassy, where after several nearly
fatal encounters on the road, she wound up being the belle of the ball for a
few hours. Or falling off the side of the boat, while tied to the ladder of the
fly bridge, so she hung by her neck over the gunnel until we figured out where
she was and what was the matter. Then Carole untied the rope and let her drop
into the water (why she didn’t just reach down and pull her up I really don’t
know) after which she became frantic and jumped overboard to “save” her. But
she was wearing tight jeans which immobilized her when they got wet, so she was
struggling desperately and yelling that she was drowning until a guy (who came
up to the boat with a dripping Ozma in his arms) told her to put her feet down
because she was only in waist high water.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">Alexander and I have been talking about the things we
remember about Ozma that were special or funny and important to us – like the
way she would sit for
hours at the big window in our living room on the second
floor and watch traffic on Massachusetts Avenue. It was one of her favorite
things and held her interest for hours. I guess that is one of the differences
between a dog’s brain and ours. Alexander reminded me of how, before we got the
gate for the car’s rear compartment, we could never leave her there because she
would get on the driver’s seat and honk the horn continuously. When I think
about her I remember her sweet wrinkly, silky-soft feet, which I always thought
were so adorable and special to her. And I am pretty sure that Carole will
remind us both that even though seven and a half years had passed, she was
never really housebroken and would leave us little poo presents from time to
time in her favorite places. But we loved her beyond words, just the same.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">Ozma became ill about six weeks ago and got progressively
worse, although it has not been possible to make a positive diagnosis, even
after very extensive testing by our own vet and by the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Southpaws</st1:placename> <st1:placename w:st="on">Veterinary</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype w:st="on">Hospital</st1:placetype></st1:place>. Even my
internist took an interest and put us in touch with a vet at that National Zoo
– all to no avail. It is almost certain, however, that she has had some kind of
cancer, probably stomach cancer or at least something=2
0that affected her stomach.
This morning, she could barely lift her sweet head or wag her lovely tail.
There was just no alternative but to take her to the hospital, where she is as
this is written, and we know that they will have to put her down. She simply
has no life left to live. Alexander and I said goodbye to her and have been
weeping all morning. Carole took her and I admire her strength in being able to
do it. Of course, Ozma loved the car and was happy to be having a ride, even
though she could barely move. Deep down, through some atavism, she probably
knew it was her last and gave me such a loving goodbye look with her beautiful
brown eyes; I will never forget it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">We have loved our girl so very much and we will miss her
every day. I am sure there will be many more dogs, especially in Alexander’s
life, but Ozma will always be remembered as our very special girl.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">DCL</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">* * * * * * * *</div>
<div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">Ozma was my first dog, and because of that, I will always
remember her. Throughout my life I have never experienced this and so it is
very hard for me. Ozma was so sweet, and liked to sleep at the foot of my bed
when she was bored with my parents’. As I20previously said, she always loved to
have her belly rubbed and would drive you crazy when you stopped, until you
started again. She always loved us, no matter what, and we loved her as well,
so now I hope that she will at least be happy for a little longer. I said
goodbye to her this morning, and I only wish that I could do it again. I will
always remember Ozma.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">AWL</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">* * * * * * * * </div>
<div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">I have had many dogs in my life, but none was sweeter than
Ms. Ozma.<span style=""> </span>In a few seconds after you met
her, she would roll on her back and ask for a belly rub and stare at you with
her big beautiful brown eyes.<span style=""> </span>She loved
her people and tolerated her dog brothers (Sebastian and Cow) and other animals
with an occasional growl and/or wag, though she was much happier when Sebastian
came along and she was never alone.<span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span>She actually believed, I’m sure, that she was
human.<span style=""> </span>She loved snuggling and was in
heaven if she was snuggled or held.<span style=""> </span>And
she knew what she wanted.<span style=""> </span>Her little paw
would immediately remind you if you had for a moment stopped petting her,
signaling to you that you should immediately
resume your rubbing, petting and
ultimate affection. Her only place on the bed was between David and me with her
head on the pillow.<span style=""> </span>People who met her
immediately remarked on her innate sweetness.<span style="">
</span>She had a big personality, perhaps we know her best because she was our
first Basset and Alexander’s first dog…and we had her solo (sans other dogs)
for a few years. On a humorous note, there were Ozma’s steering wheel episodes.
When left in a car, she somehow always managed to get to a point, where she
honked the horn to remind us that she was not with us. She was and is beautiful
in and out and the inspiration for this song that I always sang to her. “She’s
so kind and generous.<span style=""> </span>She’s so kind and
generous.<span style=""> </span>She’s so kind and generous.
She’s my Ozma girl.”<span style=""> </span>She lives forever
in my heart and in my memories, my beautiful, Ms. Ozma aka “Ozzie.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">Carole Leslie Feld (Mom)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">* * * * * * * * </div>
<div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal"><i style="">We buried Ozma this
afternoon in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Annapolis</st1:place></st1:city>,
in our garden where it overlooks the water. From now on we will call that place
COzma’s Garden.” We put a copy of these remembrances in a waterproof case with
her, along with a copy of her AKC registration and a transcript of the four
“Songs for Ozma” that Alexander and I wrote for her back in 2003, when she was
one year old and he was seven. We also gave her a big slice of her favorite
food – Rocco’s Pizza. When the ground settles, we will plant some beautiful perennials
over her grave – probably coneflowers, which were her favorites because she
loved to eat them when she could get at them. It was a very sad day for us all,
but we hope we have done the best we could for our loving sweet friend, who understood
us better than we knew ourselves, Alexander’s Ozma of Oz.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
</div>
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