Puppy came to live with us 10 years ago. Like almost all of our dogs, she was unwanted by someone else - dumped here at our "house in the country". Most disturbing about Puppy's start here with us - was the fact that she was just a young puppy - not much past weaning age - and she ended up in the bushes in front of our house on sub-zero January night. The struggle with sub-zero temps would later prove to challenge her throughout her entire life.

Last winter was one of the worst on record, and in spite of my best efforts, EVERYONE (including us) was cold and miserable. The internet was full of heart-wrenching stories of dogs freezing to death outside, contrasted by dozens of hilarious videos of dogs wearing protective booties on their feet for the first time. We were somewhere in between - my dogs have warm shelter, but farm dogs don't wear booties. After one particularly trying night spent thawing stuff, warming horse and dog gruel, and watching dogs with freezing feet try to find the best place to potty, it occurred to me that it would not be many more winters before it could be necessary to make a tough decision for Puppy's best interest. She'd slipped on the ice and had an injured shoulder - so was lame on 3 of her 4 legs in that terrible cold and deep snow. 

Later that night, I plop down in front of the computer for some distraction and instead am greeted by this verse by John Katz: 

In the morning, the Divine Old Dog finds the sun, 

she looks to me, she seems to be asking me something, 

"where am I in life?" I think, 

"what is happening to me?" 

My legs, she says, are sore, 

they don't carry me far or fast, 

I can't catch that chipmunk in the yard, 

I have always loved to run in the snows, 

but my paws sting in the cold, 

I need the sun, 

like a cat. 

I know where you are, Divine Old Dog, 

I say, this is the glory and mystery of life,  

fix yourself on the scent of light 

and life, 

hunt for peace and comfort, 

that is your work now, 

Divine Old Girl. 

And her eyes say thank you, 

they are filled with love and gratitude, 

I will still protect you, she says, 

to the end, 

I know, I say, I know. 

She looks at me once more, 

can I talk to you again? 

Anytime, anytime. 

But it was forgotten, as we endured the hard winter, and just a few weeks later saw me posting this picture; my old, lame dog had spent days canvassing our farm pond, swimming in icy water, sniffing, chasing, DOING HER WORK. The whole family gives a collective cheer when one of these muskrats are dispatched, as they cause serious damage to pond banks.

 

Winter of 2014 saw us enduring the same shocking cold early in the season. I braced myself for more of the same, but am relieved when it warms up. Muskrat activity is early this year, but the water's not frozen so the dogs spend their days patrolling, swimming, and digging. Now, a dog digging in pursuit of vermin is not very dainty about how they treat their nose. In fact, they use it a bit like a shovel. So, when Puppy-Girl shows up with a nosebleed, we suspect that aggressive digging has brought it on. We can't find an obvious injury, she acts fine and the bleeding subsides, so we give it no more thought. 

 

But, weeks later, we find out that we are wrong about the digging causing the nosebleed. It resumes, in a very bad way, and a subsequent trip to the vet reveals a grim prognosis - cancer.
The warehouse becomes a doggy hospice. Puppy eats her special meals with gusto. She mopes, and then she rallies. Most days she runs around, patrolling and barking. You'd never would have suspected she was dying.
Eventually, the bad hours start to outnumber the good. As with all animal keepers, we monitor, consider, consult the internet, cry, monitor some more... I've been through this many times and I just can't seem to get any better at it. We did the best we could, and with the help of the kind folks at Alexandria Animal Hospital, Puppy-Girl went to Heaven on Friday afternoon.
I posted the sad news on Facebook, and a friend shared the picture above as condolences. I cannot find the artist, so can't share that info, but I love that it depicts a black lab.

And another friend highlighted a portion of John Katz's verse above, it's so very fitting now in memory of my hard-working Puppy-Girl: