My little mate, I love this pic of you viewing your humans doing their chores and keeping guard from your elevated position. You were many things but most of all you were Madam Mia.
Soft and gentle as you were, you were never short on bravery (however misplaced) and Annette and I laughed at how you would let the neighbour’s dogs know they were to stay on their side of the fence. Of course you didn’t know the size of those canines and ignorance is obviously bliss when it comes to such things. We loved how your self-satisfied strut after that exchange gave your confidence away. Oh, and the performance you put on if someone pressed the doorbell or knocked on the door. You managed to sound like a bull mastiff until satisfied your humans were not at risk
On the other hand you took on such a guardian role when it came to the other neighbour’s fowls. Your excitement when you caught sight of them through that small gap in the pailings and that look imploring me to pick you up so you could watch them scratch about. You never made a sound while watching them. I think you knew not to scare them and then your haste to scoot in to let Annette know about “your chooks”.
I know you loved me. But, when it came to Annette you showed that same love plus compassion I didn’t know a dog could give. You never left her side as she fought her health battles. That low growl you gave, if I approached you precious mistress if she was snoozing, assured me that no one would be allowed to move toward Annette without your permission until she was awake. Guard duty is a thing you took very seriously.
The other things you were serious about were demanding the last of my ice cream and being my apprentice chef at the BBQ. The latter meaning you got to “taste test” whatever came off the grill. It will be a lonely time cooking the steaks or chops now.
Sometimes your “routines” were exasperating as you demanded we do your bidding. You waiting patiently for Annette to wake of a morning and running to tell me so I put the coffee on. You insisting on your dried banana treat from Annette before she could enjoy her coffee. We will miss that every morning. Your greeting when I got home from the distillery. I will miss giving you your tummy rubs, cuddles and smooches and you “whispering” in my ear or playfully nipping my nose (ever so gently)
As you approached your 14th birthday we became more aware that you were slowing down. Your patrol around the yard was now a gentle walk and you battled with the stairs sometimes and one paw lifted would be your request to be carried up them.
We put all this down to you aging but what we didn’t know was the early stages of Cushings Disease was the culprit.
I really thought that with the skill of your vet we could control that beast and I am forever thankful for the day we had after you came home from treatment when we walked the yard and you snuggled up on the bed with us.
I am thankful for that morning and the companionship we shared even though the beast was sneaking up on you.
Maybe I was too optimistic but, as we left you once more with your vet, I was certain (as was your vet) that we would have more moments. But your little body could fight no longer and that awful call breaking the news that your lungs gave up devastated Annette and I more than I thought possible.
We will miss you forever Mia and we console ourselves with the belief that you knew how loved you were and always will be.
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