RIP Tasha

[sleigh]

     Tasha became part of our family almost exactly 16 years ago.  It was the week after a Midwestcon.  Bill and Cokie had mentioned that Cokie’s mother had taken in a rescued dog, but thought the dog too much for her at her age, and was looking for a good home for her. We went over to her house, and fell in love with the orange-and-white mutt -- mostly, our vet thought, Australian Shepherd.

     She certainly had herding tendencies.  While Tasha was a loving animal, she didn’t like people to leave, and so had a distinct tendency to try to ‘herd’ people away from the front door by nipping at their heels -- especially true for people wearing white shoes: we thought maybe they reminded her instinctually of sheep feet.  She never truly bit anyone, but we know she gave a few guests a start.

     She was a great dog with the kids, and with us: always giving us the ‘happy dog’ look whenever we walked in the door.  She was also good with the cats -- though she’d snap at Anna or Katie if they dared to get too near her water or food bowl, or if the startled her.  When we picked up Finnigan, an orange-and-white male cat whose coloration was almost exactly a mirror of Tasha’s, Finnigan almost immediately made Tasha his dog.  Finnigan would rub against Tasha, would lay down alongside her or next to her.  While Anna would be cautious whenever Tasha was in the same room, Finnigan didn’t care. He’d go greet Tasha.  

     But Tasha was definitely feeling her age in the last year.  She began having trouble with her hips, and was slow getting up.  She had trouble with stairs, sometimes falling and sliding down them when trying to navigate them, until (in the last several months) we had to confine her to the ground floor.  In the last month or two, she couldn’t even go down the steps from the back deck to the lawn.

     And at her last blood test, we found that she’d developed canine leukemia. The vet put her on prednisone to see if it would take care of that, but in the last week, Tasha became unable to even get up by herself, and even when we did get her up, she might go down suddenly.  She also developed a nasty bacterial infection along her flank that caused her to lose hair, and which was spreading.  

    Denise and I took her into the vet’s on Saturday, the week after Midwestcon -- she was to have a blood test to check on the leukemia, but we showed him the infection, and told him that she was peeing far less.  He examined her, and with the paleness, the infection, the lack of urination… well, it was obvious that the prednisone hadn’t worked, that she’d picked up a few more problems on top of it, and was going downhill pretty quickly.  

   We made the hard decision, and we were there with her at the end.  It’s never easy, letting go of a companion who’s been with you for sixteen years…