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.