Farewell to Annie

Our beloved Annie died on Friday. She was a big yellow dog of undetermined age and breed. She came to live with us quite by accident when Dennis dropped by to visit a friend whose companion rides her bike to work via the Kansas River levee. A starving dog had followed her home several miles along the levee to their country home. They already had two large dogs, and asked Dennis if he needed a dog. As it happened we had lost our beloved Gus to cancer a year or so before, and Dennis readily agreed to bring the starving dog home with him.

I will never forget my surprise when Dennis came leading her into my sewing room. She was so thin her I could see every rib. Moreover, her nipples were quite large, indicating that she had recently given birth to pups. She was so pitiful, so sweet, that my heart instantly responded. Of course we would give this dog a home! It was my privilege to name her and I chose “Sweet Annie.”

When Dennis took her for examination and inoculations, the vet estimated that she was two years old. Annie was with us for nine years. She was tolerant of children, protective of us, and a sworn enemy of squirrels, although she never managed to catch one. She was terrified by thunder and came to us for protection when a storm swept through. She was a good traveler and accompanied us on many trips around the county – Colorado, Mississippi, Texas, and, most recently, to Arizona, where she made friends with Zucca, an Airedale much younger than Annie.

One the trip home Annie had a hard time getting into the car. She had arthritis in her hips. Once we were home in Kansas, Annie never regained her vitality. Although she greeted each morning with a barked warning to any possible intruders, she spend most of her time lying on her bed, waiting for Dennis to come home. For Annie, Dennis was the alpha dog, and when he arrived in the evening, she came to life and greeted him with great enthusiasm. She unfailingly slept by his bedside, even on the next-to-last night of her life, laboriously climbing the stairs to be near him.

Recently Annie lost her appetite for dog food, but still loved anything we offered her from our table. The last few days she failed to show up for the evening meal. On the advice of Bob, Dennis’s brother who is a vet, I cooked hamburger and brown rice for her. Then, even though the weather was cool, she began to constantly pant. On Friday, while Dennis was away from home, Annie came into the room where I was working and lay down beside me. After I petted her she walked to the door where she always waited for Dennis, lay down, and died. When Dennis came home he buried her in the pasture where she had spend many happy hours.

Annie was my friend, but I could never convince her to tell me the story of her previous life. Even so, I know that she must have suffered loss, rejection, fear, and pain. I am thankful to have shared our home with her and given her love and nourishment.

The house seems empty without her quiet presence, and I still sometimes think I hear her toenails clicking on the hardwood floors. It’s consoling to imagine Annie is in dog heaven with Kazak, her old buddy, futilely chasing squirrels.

(See “The Almost Perfect Dog,” Nov. 13, 2012)

Copyright 2015 by Shirley Domer