The last of my childhood dogs passed away last night. Fionna had been sick for a while, but she’s lasted far longer than I think anyone had expected. Even as she grew thinner, she never seemed to lose her upbeat and perky nature.
Fionna was always my sister Keelia’s dog. She was a gift of sorts: we had one dog, but she had been asking for one. My mother put down a stipulation: any new dog that we get can’t be a long-haired, loud black dog. (Fionna’s predecessor Tilly was all of these things, and mom didn’t like the shedding). What we ended up with was … all of those things.
She was an anxious, shepherd-type dog, and gave our other dog, Buck (who died back in 2008) a bit of a new lease on life. She was energetic, clingy, and exceedingly attached to Keelia. She was playful, often tangling and chasing other dogs who came to visit – one memorable moment was when she snuck up behind Buck, grabbed a back leg and ran. We always imagined her with a high-pitched, somewhat squeaky voice.
She slowed down and greyed significantly in the last couple of years, and there was a health scare over a year ago with some sort of ear infection that left her with a tilted head (and the new nickname Lopsided Dog). But, each time we’ve gone to visit my parents, she’s been an ever-present shadow wagging her tail in greeting.
We didn’t have to put her down, although Mom and Dad were getting to that point. Up until a couple of days ago, she followed him down the driveway and back, even running a bit. We buried her in the front field of my parents’ house, next to where we buried Buck and Tilly all those years ago.
She was a good dog, and I’m going to miss her terribly.