Jesse the K (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jesse_the_k) wrote2015-05-20 07:41 pm
jesse_the_k) wrote2015-05-20 07:41 pm
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Farewell to Lucy, the Australian Cattle Dog
Today we euthanized* darling Lucy after 15 years together. I am so grateful for the unconditional love she gave us, her clever clowning which made us laugh, her gentle snores which signaled another day survived. She will live on in our hearts, and in my icons.
When MyGuy saw her at the shelter, her adolescent gaze impaled him straight in the heart. Other dogs we'd met were wary of my powerchair. But when Lucy joined us in the "hello room," she leapt up into my lap. We wanted to take her home just then, but the shelter went through two 3-week Parvo lockdowns first. When she finally came home, she was strung so tight you could play O'Carollan's Farewell on her. We tried to crate her but she destroyed everything we attempted: ripped open the wire mesh; unspooled reinforcing wires, picked off duct tape. This was the first of many struggles where the decision went to Lucy.
She adored us as much as we adored her. She always needed to know where we both were, and would pace when only one of us was home. She recognized the car when it was two blocks away. She firmly punched closed doors—not because she wanted in, but just so she'd know if we were on the other side. She guarded us, her precious resource, against most comers. She had a soft spot for fat women. Fortunately they feature prominently in my friend demographic.
Her gaze was always powerful. With one sidelong glance, she dominated the most self-confident big dogs. In her youth she was wicked fast, outrunning the whippets while blissfully weaving between blades of grass and bushes. Even last week she did a figure-eight run around the couch, under the dinner table, and back around like her true zoomie self. Except she went around once, not 50 times, and she fell.
When she was obedient she was awesome. Learning how to teach her things schooled me about patience and discpline. She knew quite a few commands, including the hard ones like "drop it" out of her mouth (great for preventing rotten squirrel meals) as well as "leave it/take it," (I'd cruelly place a treat within sight, and eventually give permission to eat it). She also knew sit, come, off (the opposite of jumping up on ramps and people and benches), down, wait (too impatient for more than five minutes of stay), and the crucial one: "Jesse's about to move somewhere but doesn't know exactly, so your feet are your responsibility."
When she was disobedient she was very creative. On her first night at our house, she leapt the fence, found a chicken carcass in a neighbor's garbage, and we caught her coming back. She went out for chicken takeaway, but decided life was better on the inside of the fence. She ate a plastic hula hoop in minutes; memorized the position of every nasty tidbit on her trips through the neighborhood; and counter surfed an entire beef tenderloin in seconds in total silence.
The described pictures below show Lucy the Australian Cattle Dog of my heart. She's a medium-size bitch, one ear pricked, one ear folded, black spectacles around her eyes. When young she had a black and brown muzzle, with large black, brown, merle red, and merle blue patches.
Sometime in her first week at our place, MyGuy holds Lucy up in the air. As signaled by her tail straight out behind, she's not pleased to be airborne. She was maybe six months old and weighed 17 pounds.
Lucy five years later in the county dog park. Lucy is an ACD blur, characteristically steering with her tail. MyGuy extends both arms to get her riled up, and she obliges. That's the "zoomies," and she so enjoyed them!
Lucy post zoomies, relaxing on a slatted bench, around age 9. She liked the cooling breezes on her underside. She weighed around 42 pounds here. Uncharacteristic of cattle dogs, she disliked hot weather, but I agreed with her; she did loathe water which I thought a poor choice.
Lucy on guard in the kitchen, standing on her rear legs with her front paws on the windowsill, waiting for MyGuy to get home from work. She assumed this posture whenever possible: paws in my lap, paws on the fence, paws on the bench, paws on progressively scratched-up windowsills. Wethinks she may have been a meercat in an earlier life.
Lucy recently, asleep, with her nose touching the floor between her paws. Her muzzle and paws are all white in her dotage.
Give your animals and humans one more hug or kind thought or treat tonight.
*(She wasn't acutely ill, but she was rapidly losing control of her bladder, bowels, and rear legs and she was often in pain.)
When MyGuy saw her at the shelter, her adolescent gaze impaled him straight in the heart. Other dogs we'd met were wary of my powerchair. But when Lucy joined us in the "hello room," she leapt up into my lap. We wanted to take her home just then, but the shelter went through two 3-week Parvo lockdowns first. When she finally came home, she was strung so tight you could play O'Carollan's Farewell on her. We tried to crate her but she destroyed everything we attempted: ripped open the wire mesh; unspooled reinforcing wires, picked off duct tape. This was the first of many struggles where the decision went to Lucy.
She adored us as much as we adored her. She always needed to know where we both were, and would pace when only one of us was home. She recognized the car when it was two blocks away. She firmly punched closed doors—not because she wanted in, but just so she'd know if we were on the other side. She guarded us, her precious resource, against most comers. She had a soft spot for fat women. Fortunately they feature prominently in my friend demographic.
Her gaze was always powerful. With one sidelong glance, she dominated the most self-confident big dogs. In her youth she was wicked fast, outrunning the whippets while blissfully weaving between blades of grass and bushes. Even last week she did a figure-eight run around the couch, under the dinner table, and back around like her true zoomie self. Except she went around once, not 50 times, and she fell.
When she was obedient she was awesome. Learning how to teach her things schooled me about patience and discpline. She knew quite a few commands, including the hard ones like "drop it" out of her mouth (great for preventing rotten squirrel meals) as well as "leave it/take it," (I'd cruelly place a treat within sight, and eventually give permission to eat it). She also knew sit, come, off (the opposite of jumping up on ramps and people and benches), down, wait (too impatient for more than five minutes of stay), and the crucial one: "Jesse's about to move somewhere but doesn't know exactly, so your feet are your responsibility."
When she was disobedient she was very creative. On her first night at our house, she leapt the fence, found a chicken carcass in a neighbor's garbage, and we caught her coming back. She went out for chicken takeaway, but decided life was better on the inside of the fence. She ate a plastic hula hoop in minutes; memorized the position of every nasty tidbit on her trips through the neighborhood; and counter surfed an entire beef tenderloin in seconds in total silence.
The described pictures below show Lucy the Australian Cattle Dog of my heart. She's a medium-size bitch, one ear pricked, one ear folded, black spectacles around her eyes. When young she had a black and brown muzzle, with large black, brown, merle red, and merle blue patches.
Sometime in her first week at our place, MyGuy holds Lucy up in the air. As signaled by her tail straight out behind, she's not pleased to be airborne. She was maybe six months old and weighed 17 pounds.
Lucy five years later in the county dog park. Lucy is an ACD blur, characteristically steering with her tail. MyGuy extends both arms to get her riled up, and she obliges. That's the "zoomies," and she so enjoyed them!
Lucy post zoomies, relaxing on a slatted bench, around age 9. She liked the cooling breezes on her underside. She weighed around 42 pounds here. Uncharacteristic of cattle dogs, she disliked hot weather, but I agreed with her; she did loathe water which I thought a poor choice.
Lucy on guard in the kitchen, standing on her rear legs with her front paws on the windowsill, waiting for MyGuy to get home from work. She assumed this posture whenever possible: paws in my lap, paws on the fence, paws on the bench, paws on progressively scratched-up windowsills. Wethinks she may have been a meercat in an earlier life.
Lucy recently, asleep, with her nose touching the floor between her paws. Her muzzle and paws are all white in her dotage.
Give your animals and humans one more hug or kind thought or treat tonight.
*(She wasn't acutely ill, but she was rapidly losing control of her bladder, bowels, and rear legs and she was often in pain.)
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Snuggling Basil in her honor.
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(That is the most subtle "rainbow bridge" graphic ever.)
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She was a Great Dog.
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ZOMG your icon!
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Her life was always missing MORE TREATS and also MORE other dogs to push around, but she always came back :,)
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I used to have a collie mix who kept on with zoomies even into her elderly years. It is a joyous thing to behold.
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It's impossible to maintain a grumpy mood when there's zoomies underway. Is it limited to herding dogs?
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