We buried the old dog today.
We’ve been dreading her death for years. Since April we’ve known it was imminent, and two weeks ago she had another stroke-like event. The last ten days have been a series of discussions about whether she’s enjoying life or looks like she’s suffering. About how and when. And where to dig her grave.
We settled on a spot on the edge of the Seven Acre Wood which we call The Clearing. It’s an open glade surrounded by totara and matai. In the summer it is a magical space, sunlight filters through branches and the encircling tree trunks give a sense of protection. Today there were grey skies overhead with random heavy showers scudding through, but we hope we’ve picked a spot that will be warm on a sunny day. That old dog did like to lie in the sun.
Goodbye Ella. For fourteen years you’ve loved us, entertained us, and staunchly alerted us to all incoming visitors except the Hell Pizza delivery people. You never lost your keen nose for food, or your skill at extracting liver treats from a kong. You caught more than one rat under the chicken house, and clocked up many, many miles with the Forbearing Husband on his various jogging routes. You proved yourself over and over to be a not-so-big dog with a huge heart.
Ella. Lie down. Stay. Good dog. x