Friday, July 15, 2016
A couple of months ago I wrote about Willie, a (mumble) years-old miniature Dachshund and long time member of the family.
She'd developed an abscess on her neck, we drained it, she got better.
In that post I said she was 12 and was in error. She would have been 14 in November.
Yes, would have. She died yesterday morning.
If the one dog year equals seven human years formula holds true, she was pushing 95.
She's been slowing down in the last couple of years and not nearly as spry as she once was. She also suffered from cataracts and didn't see well at all.
None of that bothered her much. She was a house dog but spent a lot of time outside exploring. Every day she made her rounds of the outbuildings and corrals, taking the pulse of the place, as it were.
A couple of weeks ago she had a seizure. Since that time she's been fading fast.
Yesterday morning Mom and I watched her tottering around unsteadily. She was following her nose, checking things out. She was really wobbly, but I was reassured that she still had the spark of interest and curiosity driving her to explore.
She wobbled over to Mom and I, where we stood discussing her pending demise. Then she collapsed, kicked a few times, and was gone.
Nature was very kind to Willie. She didn't suffer, didn't have to live in pain or infirmity while her humans decided to put her down.
I dug another deep hole in the dog cemetery and Mom and I laid her to rest.
It's been very hard on Mom, Willie was her constant companion in the house, always close by and involved.
After we buried her I checked cows and fond that the last cow had finally calved.
Death and life, they're all part of the deal.
Thanks for sharing your live with us Willie. We'll miss you.