The Brown Dog of Kentucky

Last night, Dolly bid us farewell. It was hard as hell to see her go, especially after putting up the hellacious fight that she did, but in the end, she decided that it was time to rest. She had a good home for a month, a mother that spoiled her rotten (believe me, I was privileged just to be along for the ride), and was finally given the love that she more than richly deserved.

In a strange way, as sad and as much as it hurt to see her go, there’s a sense of…I don’t know…resolution about it. When we picked her up, we knew that she had a lot of decks stacked against her. Her level of nourishment hadn’t been the best, she had a variety of worms other than heartworm, her personality and socialization had been stunted by the people that we suspect abandoned her, and we knew that, despite strengthening her gradually, she might not survive the heartworm treatment regardless. She went through a lot, blossomed like the beautiful girl she was, but decided in the end that she could afford to sleep.

In the end, looking back on it now (and I type this right after I finished looking at a great picture Becky took of her through the back door window), I think the final validation of the impact we had on her was shortly before things took a turn for the worse last night. We were sitting upstairs at our computers, and Dolly, who had been restless all day, broke the baby gate down twice to come upstairs and see us. She had come to trust us being near her because we always made a point of stooping down and saying hi to her or petting her, but had never been that aggressive in seeking us out. Becky thinks she was trying to tell us something was wrong, and I’m inclined to agree with her…and although it’s all said and done now, it’s a good feeling to know that Dolly trusted and loved us enough back to come see us like that.

It may have been only for a month, but I’m glad Becky found her and brought her to our home.