"Gaily I lived as ease and nature taught,
And spent my little life without a thought,
And am amazed that Death, that tyrant grim,
Should think of me, who never thought of him."
~Rene Francois Regnier
Sophie was a miniature long-haired daschund. After 17 years 5 months of a full life, it was time for her to take her leave. She was 8 pounds of fur and love.
She loved to jump into a knapsack and onto my back for a bicycle ride. Her head sticking out, her big ears flopping in the wind and a little dog grin on her face. She liked to sing (ok, howl) at her favorite tunes. In her vocabulary, "treat" didn't exist. When she was still a pup, I had used "caviar" for "treat". It sounded more sophisticated. So she wouldn't even react to "Sophie, do you want a treat?" but bounced of joy at "Sophie, do you want some caviar?"
She had a phenomenal memory. When arriving at a friends' cottage, she'd run to the patch of wild mint by the lake and graze, even though she had not been there in months. Walking to the vet's for her annual check-up she'd stop in her tracks instead of turning the corner and walking down that street. She knew by then that there was a needle at the end of that stroll.
Her last year saw her slowly shutting down. She became blind, deaf, and a bit confused. Even her little wet nose that never missed anything was failing her. But she still had spunk and made it look that she deliberately fell off the curb or bumped into the wall. She still had a zest for life until her last few days.
Funny little stories, told just to fill that unbearable void. She was much more than these. She was my little shadow, the one I turned to when I was sad, happy, tired. She was that constant companion of those incredible years of my life. In times of joy she bounced of joy with me. In times of sadness she was there, steady, warm and loving.
Her time had come. It hurts like hell but it's okay. Farewell little princess.
"Sorrow makes us all children again - destroys all differences of intellect. The wisest know nothing."
Ralph Waldo Emerson