I want to thank you all for the comments on the sweet pics of Marigold and Robin. When I took them, I knew they were to be the last for Marigold. The Vestibular Syndrome made many things hard to manage and I suspect she had been having small debilitating episodes in recent months. The dogs all hovered around her the last days. It was life in slow motion, you saw the inevitable coming ever so closer in small slices of life. Friday morning Gene took her down to the vet for me. She was my Dad's dog. I just couldn't do this one and it was with equal measure of shame, guilt and relief, that I willingly handed over this awful, necessary kindness to my DH when he volunteered.
Marigold was 14 years old. She had been raised from day one with her companion of 11 years, Pilot. They were both born on the same day, different litters, different breeders. My folks picked them up the same day at 10 weeks I think. They grew up together. I know when he went over the bridge she missed him terribly. When my folks moved to Oregon, Marigold came to live with us since they really couldn't have a dog and the two cats. She fit right in, the kids accepted their new big sister. She was a quiet dog, I have only heard her bark a few times ever, but she was also a stealthy counter surfer, a consummate table scrap beggar, a warm kind pillow for canine or feline and she could sure drag you along on a walk when she took a mind too! There must have been just a bit of terrier in her or at least terrier stubbornness!
She lived for Sundays, when my Dad came over to watch the Patriots play. When he was able, he was here at least once a week even in the off season. When he died, I know she knew, in whatever way animals know these things. And now, I like to think that she, Pilot and my Dad (and the many other wonderful fur friends that have passed long before), are reunited.
Instead of a parting shot, I'll leave you with this.