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Godspeed, Nessie


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Grief does indeed seem to be a small price to pay for the love and companionship that come in return. It's also comforting to know that there are many people who've walked this path before and have words of solace. This was the first time that Grenzehund and I made this particular journey. Of the many things we gained from having Ness, showing us how to navigate this part of a dog's life might be the most enduring.

 

We miss her terribly, so we have been remembering what her life was in the year between being barely alive due to malnutrition, parasites and anemia to having a tumor take control.

 

She was the least complicated, happiest dog in the pack. She had a sharp crook at the end of her tail and could produce a wide-range of wags--from just a shiver at the tip to a raucous all out broom-fest. She loved to eat poop and consistently outsmarted our attempts to keep her out of the kitty box area--she could get through a space that the cats themselves had to squeeze through. We became commandos armed with scoopers in the backyard. She, however, was a ninja and beat us almost every time.

 

She had a hoarse bark that she liked to direct toward anything passing the house on wheels. She liked to grab a squeaky toy on her way outside, on her way inside and just about anytime fancy struck. She was especially skilled at squeaking while destuffing. She woke us up in the morning squeaking a toy.

 

She ripped up paper products like a whirlwind. Early on, we found her, feet on the counter, eating rising bread dough (that required a trip to the emergency vet...).

 

She loved going on walks. We walk our dogs one by one each morning. Grenzehund typically walked Ness and when they came across me walking with Hamish, Ness lit up like a candle, picked up her step and made sure she was just ahead, leading the way. We set up ways to have "surprise" meetings and her expression never changed when she "chanced" upon us.

 

She wasn't much one for riding in the car, but we took her once to where we work the younger dogs; her deformed little nose quivered and she crouched just a little bit staring at the sheep in the round pen. She could be very shy around people, but she was happy to be snuggled by all the folks there. I'm sure she is having a wild time with those Bridge chickens.

 

Until the last few weeks, she took no crap from any dog in the house and even the day before she died, she told young Kyzer that he needed to learn some manners around an older lady.

 

She wasn't the dog I would have ever imagined being our "foster failure". I can't believe how little time we had with her.

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What a beautiful tribute, Robin. My eyes are tearing up now, which doesn't happen very often...

Again, I think about how lucky you guys were to have found each other. I know you miss her, but she is in a good place, and you will see her again one day...

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