Lucky Thirteen

Not quite two weeks ago was the Summer Solstice. Coincidentally it was also the 13th anniversary of when I brought Argus home from Animal Aid (I had given thought to naming her Summer, but as my brother had recently remarried and gotten in the bargain a stepdaughter named Summer, it didn't seem like the best idea at the time).

Today, we took her to the vet for the last time.

She had been getting somewhat creaky for the last couple years, but in the last few weeks she really went downhill, and had reached the point where she looked like she might topple over at the next step. It was time to say goodbye.

Supposedly, she was a shepherd/rotwieller mix, but she was really just a good dog. I don't recall her ever chewing or tearing up anything she wasn't supposed to (except for our hearts there at the end, and that was not intentional on her part) and wasn't inclined to digging or trying to escape the yard (though given that she was reportedly 2 years old when I got her, and who knows what had happened to her in that time, perhaps she just knew a good thing when she had it). She was the dog who, if you visited us, you might not have noticed, because our other dogs seem to be either attention whores or spazhounds (or both), so she might have been lost in the background. She was just happy to see you and hopefully get petted. Aside from barking at postmen, squirrels and lawnmowers, she never made much noise (so why is the house so strangely quiet tonight?).

So, fifteen years old and I was lucky enough to have her for thirteen of those years.

We'll miss her (a lot).

Hmm...I guess since both of those dogs are gone now, maybe I'll have to change that icon--but not just yet.

When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!),
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone--wherever it goes--for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear!
---Rudyard Kipling