A tribute to a small black dog

After his gall bladder failed, bringing about a surgery from which recovery was too challenging, my best little walking buddy, Shadow-dog, died peacefully in my arms last night. He leaves a few family members and friends to miss him. He was ten years old.

I am smiling through my tears as I type this. If anyone ever had a good life (except for the last week or so), our "Little Bear" did. Regular readers know I've written dozens of moodlings relating to adventures with Shadow. He was a good boy, and we walked a few thousand kilometers together, through all kinds of weather. He made a lot of friends, too, being as cute as he was.

"Shadow of Zorro" (his pedigree name) was a much-longed-for pet by our youngest, Jay, who did a lot of research into hypoallergenic dogs, found a breeder of Havanese puppies, and wore us down until we agreed to Shadow being Jay's 13th birthday present. We first laid eyes on him when he was a two-week-old "peanut" and brought him home when he was 8 weeks old. 

Shadow proved to be a perfect name for him as he was often underfoot, and hard to see against the black back-entry doormat, where he whined to go outside. We are grateful to Jay for bringing a happy and cuddly little spirit into our life, though he had his occasional curmudgeon days, too.

Shadow, February 3rd

My husband Lee initially didn't want anything to do with our dog, but it didn't take long for Shadow to work his way into Lee's heart. They spent many evenings together in their favourite easy chair, Shadow chewing on pizzle sticks Lee held for him while reading, and Lee became Shadow's #1. 

Shadow loved garden cucumbers and carrots, fresh snow, chasing his tail, making the bed, laying in sunbeams, tearing around on "Accidental Beach" beside the river, picking cheerios out of the air, dancing for his favourite peanut butter pumpkin treats, and walking dirt paths through the river valley. He loved greeting people at the door with a chew stick (though he didn't really expect or want them to accept his "welcome gift"). He made us laugh often.

He never understood the concept of fetch, and often had to be cajoled into going for walks. Once outside, he pranced along happily, often chasing -- to the end of his leash -- after magpies, squirrels, or jack rabbits. He liked barking at the letter carrier and any other dogs passing our large front window. He came and asked to be lifted up to sit between my knees during my daily morning meditation time. 

Special thanks to Dr. Ferrera, who so gently helped us with his final journey last night -- we certainly didn't expect to lose him so soon. The house is too quiet now. The remnants of his belongings and food will be donated to help low-income folks with their pets, and he will be remembered with a small spring ritual, his ashes spread near the backyard cucumber patch and along his best-sniffed coyote trails in our river valley. 

Happy trails to you, dear little Shadow-boy. I will miss being greeted at the door by your joyful barks and waggy tail, and feeling your soft, soft fur when I scratched you under the chin and around the ears. I will always remember you. Go in peace, little friend.