A good dog, with a long goofy name, “Private Stoc’s Fire Dancer”, bestowed by Pam, the very nice and responsible breeder. Her sister is “Private Stoc’s Red Skye at Morning”, but they just got called Fire and Skye. Occasionally, rarely, they’d both be named Dammit!
A natural herder, she’d go from room to room trying to get everyone together so she could keep an eye on them. I’m guessing that, to her, we were particularly clever sheep with the keys to the food cabinet. She convinced the neighborhood cats that hunting our ducks was a bad, bad idea.
She didn’t like it, but you could balance a french fry on her nose until she got permission to eat it. She didn’t like cats, but never, ever, not even once was aggressive toward any other animals, including our flock of Indian Runner ducks. Given that she was almost 18 months old when she came to live with us, it’s pretty amazing that she didn’t view them as prey. She acted as though they were her babies, and the same with parrots, cockatiels, sugar gliders, rabbits, and very small children.
It goes with saying that I hate cancer. It killed my dad, went after my mom, got me, and has killed at least one rabbit and one koi. Then it got Fire. She developed some kind of brain cancer that manifested itself as a bump on the head, and when the vet opened it up to see what it was, it was clear that she was not long for this world.
She hated getting her feet wet, or any kind of messiness. More like a cat than a dog.
“Make the rabbit stop touching me.”
“Just because I am their guardian does not mean I have to like them”
Shepherds obey better than any dogs I’ve ever known. They weren’t allowed inside until they were standing politely.
This sums it up, the twin kami Goofball and Cautious Concern.
The black sofa eventually developed a dog-shaped depression.
She took her guard duties very seriously, and was very happy when at some point we put a folded futon next to the window.
The wet, inside-out ear means they’ve just finished a comprehensive and mutual ear-cleaning session.
This look actually meant, “I’m reasonably sure that your sandwich will prove to be too large for you.”
Good bye, good dog.
6 comments:
it me pptg, just here to say - what wonderful pictures and i am so very sorry for your loss. She has a very good loving companion in you.
- smaltzy virtual hugs to you lynn.
Good, sweet, beautiful dog. I love that she hated being messy.
I'm sorry :(.
Ah, Lynne, I'm so sorry. A long life, and obviously very much loved. What a lucky dog to have been in your life. And what a lucky human to have had her in yours.
My condolences.
Fire was such a good puppy. I miss her...
---Thor
We had a beautiful Black-Tri Aussie named Jack; there were things well below him, too that he tolerated with an air of damaged nobility.
These guys are beautiful. My heart is full and breaks at the same time; why is life so random and unfair?
Thanks for sharing fire with us, I feel like I knew him and regret I didn't..
xoxo Darya
I am so sorry to read this, especially as belatedly as I do. A friend of mine just had her 9-year-old diagnosed, and as I have a white boxer, I realized shortly after I got him that there was an excellent chance that genetics would not allow me to have him for as long as I should.
She was a beautiful dog with a good life and a loving memory we can share in now.
My sympathies and thanks,
Tanarian Davies
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