Once upon a time there was a tiny little newborn puppy. She was the only female in her litter, which had been carefully planned and anticipated by her breeders. She wore a little pink ribbon around her neck, because even though her breeders were staunch feminists, they were also total suckers.
Even before her eyes opened she must have known she was special, because she spent almost every waking moment, and probably most of her sleeping ones, cradled in someone’s arms.
By the time she could see and started running around outside, she knew her name was Rosie and that she was “our only girl.” In fact, she thought her name really was “Rosie, our only girl.”
She had a new collar with pink roses embroidered on it. Unless she was playing, her feet never touched the ground. She was her dog mother’s favorite puppy, too. Everything in life was wonderful. The sun came up every day, it was never too hot, the people loved her, the dogs loved her, and really, the whole world was her oyster and that’s just how it was.
And this isn’t a cautionary tale, because while Rosie did have a few rough patches in her long life, basically it continued just the way it began. She finished her show ring championship before she was a year old, racking up quite a few nice wins. She had a little trouble with her first litter, but she was a stellar mom. She never broke a leg or had a serious illness, although there was a rattlesnake that bit her once, and that kind of sucked.
Her dog mom died, a very old deerhound at the age of 12. She was very sad to see her go, but her people seemed to love her even more then, so life kept being good. Sometimes other old dogs would die, and she always felt sad, especially when it was one of her brothers, or her friend Scarlett, the little brown dog. And the worst was when Colleen died, because Colleen was queen of everything, and shouldn’t ever have died, no matter how old she was.
Well, the worst until Rosie’s puppy died, when he was four years old. Rosie was philosophical, though, because by now she’d figured out that sometimes these things happened, one day the dogs would die. First it would be hard, and then life would be good again.
And one day, after a lot of really nice things happened and everyone kept loving her, she was old. Older than any deerhound at her people’s house had ever been. A very, very old deerhound. When she turned 13, people she didn’t know sent her birthday cards and emails, and the deerhound list was all excited about her advanced years, and the people who’d lived with her brothers when they were alive all got teary-eyed and called to wish her a wonderful day.
And Rosie had a little trouble getting up, although once she was up, she could happily go for short walks. She loved her meals and her people and the other dogs, and really, life just couldn’t have been better.
And every night she followed her human mom into the bedroom and curled up on her big comfy bed and fell asleep, only to do it all again, just as happily, the next day.
And I meant it when I told you this isn’t a cautionary tale. We’re still living happily ever after, for however long we have.
Old dogs are love.
Beautiful Biography! Brought alot of memories of my old dog (Jake) back to the top of my heart again. Your Right Old Dogs Are Love
Posted by: Melanie | 18 August 2006 at 07:49 PM
Thank you. That is exactly what I needed to hear right now.
Posted by: Alison | 18 August 2006 at 08:21 PM
Thanks for the story about Rosie. What a grand girl.
Posted by: Cate | 18 August 2006 at 09:14 PM
We’re still living happily ever after, for however long we have.
I love this! We are living the same thing with the Grrls :)
Posted by: KT | 18 August 2006 at 09:16 PM
A wonderful story to which all senior dog owners can relate. A very happy belated birthday wish for Rosie.
Posted by: Judy B. | 18 August 2006 at 10:08 PM
Well, that started out my day with a tear in my eyes! A good tear, though. What a wonderful story!
Posted by: Sharyn | 19 August 2006 at 10:44 AM
Sending big hugs out to Rosie. :)
Travis
Posted by: Travis | 19 August 2006 at 01:44 PM
May God Bless Rosie
Posted by: Alice | 20 August 2006 at 10:42 AM
Lovely story. I love old dogs.
Posted by: KathyF | 21 August 2006 at 02:21 AM
That was awesome. Brought goosebumps to my arms and legs.
My 5 year old doberman died in my arms on August 10th. My world will never be the same.
Judi
Posted by: Judi | 22 August 2006 at 01:24 PM
Keep writing. I hope my Sophie Sue lives that long. Check out Piglet's story at Dolittler.com. He wasn't nearly that lucky. But he knew we all loved him.
Patty Khuly
Posted by: Dr. Patty Khuly | 23 August 2006 at 09:01 PM
You so beautifully captured the essence of the POWERFUL bond between GOOD WOMAN and DOG. And how DOG can crawl into a corner of our hearts from the moment we get DOG (most of the time!!) and as time goes by the corner always grows. We know DOG will always stay there FOREVER and EVER! Thank-you for sharing the joy,fullness and angst of it all so well.
And a world without DOG?????......so, so empty, still.
Our ever-and-always faithful companion, DOG, whose trust of us grows exponentially as they age....trust that we can somehow, when the guessing-game of TIME subsides, gather up all our wisdom, courage, strength and love for DOG and reach deep inside to finally be able to give back to DOG.....but why does it have to be that?? I draw comfort from the fact......DOG knows, DOG loves.
I wish you everything you need in the time ahead.
Posted by: Mar | 21 September 2006 at 04:58 AM