dancinghorse | An End and a Beginning

Thanks to the many friends, on and off lj, who sent good wishes today. I was Ms. Cool until I got halfway there, realized how quiet Shadow was being in the back seat, and realized she knew where she was going. The vet concurred that it was time; you know how it is, you always wonder if you've made the decision too soon, but she said there was nothing left to salvage. Shadow went to sleep while I held her, and she knew I was there and wanted me there (and emphatically did not want strangers touching her), and that was the way these things should be.

She was a good dog. I got her the year I bought DHF, as a watchdog, because at that time the place was 15 miles from anywhere and very rural. Jennifer Roberson, who has always been my dog-finding person, told me about this wonderful dog she had seen at a herding trial: a backyard-bred, paperless but obviously purebred Doberman who was too sweet to be a guard dog and the owners had been trying to give her away without success. Mostly I think she thought she was a herding dog; she lived with Aussie shepherds and she was a good herding dog in her day. "This one is a winner," Jennifer said, and I agreed to meet her and most probably take her. Katherine Lawrence and I went to Phoenix and met her, and found this lovely, small (55 pounds in her heyday) black-and-tan Doberman with a docked tail but in the English fashion, she still had her ears. She was as sweet as advertised, gentle and kind, and rather neurotic, having been given away three times but always brought back for one reason or another (she ran off if off lead, she would eat the cats' food if she could get at it). Since my new place has a secure yard--the previous owners, both sets, were dog breeders--and I didn't mind feeding the cats on the counter, those were not problems for me. And she came home and she lived with me and she did her job as a watchdog; she would growl at strangers who came near me, and she stalked the yard very nicely, as sleek and dangerous-looking as she was. Nobody ever messed with my house while she was in or around it.

She stayed young and lively for a long time; she really didn't start to get old until last year, at 14, when she slowed down considerably and developed arthritis in her neck. That was when I got Spot, knowing how much Kaz would miss her when she went. She lasted rather longer than I expected actually, and was, arthritis aside, healthy and glossy and cheerful until very recently. Then everything pretty much let go at once.

And now the first and oldest animals of DHF are gone. The goat is still here, buried in front of the dogs' yard. Shadow will come back from the crematorium in a week or so, and her ashes will be scattered among the cottonwoods. She's been invited back; someday I expect a dog or cat or even horse will come here who looks at me in a particular way and I'll know. For that matter, if I look out late one night and see a sleek black shape patrolling the fence, that will be welcome, too. She was a good soul.

And that's today's ending. It's also a day for beginnings of a sort: Ephiny was born four years ago today. She's now officially a mare instead of a filly, and it's time to put together a bridle for her and teach her that part of a Lipizzan's life--though she won't be ready to sit on for some time yet (slow grower, no back muscles to speak of). Next year she'll finally get her Pooka and see about making her first Pooklet. Meanwhile she gets to be a kid for a while longer. She gets hugs and carrots and Attention and all the good things a horse here expects on her birthday. And life goes on.