This week I said good-bye to my dearest, furriest friend, Penny. In the past week her congenital heart condition cranked up rather quickly, and despite medication she started to gasp for breath as fluid filled her little lungs. On Tuesday she slid peacefully into a green dream as she snuggled in my arms. She didn't quite make her 14th birthday, and I wept like a toddler who'd lost its Mummy.
's was totally hilarious with her attitude to grooming. She would submit without protest, but with great disgust to the horrendous habit of being bathed (what the hell are you humans thinking??).
And yet, post bath and trim, she'd come out all flirtatious and incredibly happy from loosing a few degrees of heat in stinky weather.
She LOVED a good ear scratch. What dog doesn't, really?
The fluff that would crop up between her toes was fast-growing, and used to leave her struggling to stand on the slippery floors. It always felt like I'd only just trimmed them last week. I could probably have felted a coin purse from the fur fluff that she shed everywhere, and I almost wish that I'd saved a bundle or six of it to try, now that she's gone.
She has been my loyal companion and comfort through some very challenging life experiences, and I both feel very lucky that our paths crossed and totally devastated that it can't go on just a few more years. She was incredibly brave and friendly, and always polite to people, even when she didn't like them (and she didn't really like everyone - she had some rather specific favourites).
The outpouring of love and memories from friends who knew and loved her has been wonderful; not quite as wonderful as if she's lived a few more years, but as good as it gets in a sucky situation.
Sweet dreams, Miss Penny.