Little Dog Gone

I've been putting this post off for almost a week now, but the time has come. Last weekend we lost our dog, Holly, to an illness we didn't even know she had.

Holly was almost eleven years old, and we'd had her since she was a tiny puppy. She was a mixed breed, part black Lab, part German Shepherd, part terrier. I remember my sister called to tell me that there were puppies at the pet store; when we got there Holly was the last one left. I guess she was waiting for us.

She turned out to be just a great little dog. In the picture you can see her one "sticking-out" ear--that was her trademark. I called it her "begging ear" because she always had it stuck out especially if she was hanging around the kitchen, hoping for a treat. She was always enthusiastic to see visitors, unless she didn't know them, in which case she would bark like crazy, ready to defend us. She loved children and we never had to worry about her around them. She'd put up with any amount of crazy play, from being covered up with blankets to running outdoor obstacle courses. In fact I never worried about the kids being out in the yard playing as long as she was out there--I knew she'd never let a stranger near without alerting me.


She was also my writing companion. Nights when I'd be in my office, working at my computer, she was sure to be lying on the floor behind me, just keeping me company. She hated fireworks and thunderstorms and mail carriers, but loved being petted, and would often shove her nose under your arm to ask for a pat.

The end came suddenly. She seemed just as usual, but collapsed as we were heading to bed last Saturday night; we made an emergency trip to the vet, but there was nothing to be done. She'd had a tumor, probably on the spleen, and it had ruptured. The end came quickly as we patted and talked to her. I suppose we have to be grateful that she was in apparent good health all along, but that only added to our shock when things went wrong without warning.


I'm not what I think of as a "dog person," those folks who treat their dogs like little people and go to what I consider absurd lengths in their treatment of them. But I miss Holly more than I would have thought possible. She had a personality; her absence from the house is a palpable thing. Our lives are different, poorer, without her here. I know many people think a dog is "just" a dog, but that doesn't do them justice.

I'm sure we will have another dog, when the time feels right. I think it's good for the kids to have a dog, and I know now how important it was for me to have one, too. But it won't be Holly. She was a great, irreplaceable, little dog. We miss her terribly.