Suki arrived here at my house in November to find two companions: my 13-year old Belgian shepherd, Saoirse (pronounced Sirsha meaning peace in Irish), and Nuala, a gentle and furry 57-varieties black dog that I adopted from the SPCA in 2004. I adopted Saoirse in 1997 on a cold rainy day when I found her as an 8-week old puppy in the yard. My son was about to leave home to go live abroad, and I was evidently in need of something to fill the emptying nest. Someone had abandoned her on Ben Ami. I took her in and she soon outgrew my other dog Natasha and the rest of her reached a size proportionate to her large paws. She wasn't the smartest dog I ever had and my kids would joke about her supposed lack of intelligence, but she was gentle, playful and faithful. She loved swimming in the reservoir and the river, and would trot through the orchard with Nuala, each of them holding one end of a large branch like two working dogs carrying a pole. Despite her large size she could be trusted even around small children and babies, and would bark excitedly when one of my friends came over and there were signs of a good, long walk.
In her later years Saoirse was more than a handful to take care of. She suffered from epilepsy, and I did my best to be there when she came out of a seizure, unhappy and confused. In 2008 she developed a growth on her hind leg that was removed, but according to the vet's predictions, it grew back and by the end of January it had grown quite large and uncomfortable. Despite Saoirse's advanced age, I decided to gether with the vet that it would be best to remove it and hopefully give Saoirse a couple more years of life. That was unfortunately not how things turned out.
After the operation a week and a half ago, Saoirse was pretty miserable for the first couple of days, but doggedly (yes, I guess there's no other word) got up and began to limp around the yard. She determinedly plodded on, and I had hopes that the hind leg, now diminished in size and muscle tone, would grow stronger. But this morning she was unable to get up and lay crying and shaking with pain. I knew that the time had come to make the difficult choice of putting Saoirse to sleep. If she could no longer walk it was not fair to her to make her suffer any longer. There was no doubt that she was not going to be able to walk any more. The decision had to be made and it was evident that she was in pain, and the sooner her suffering ended the better. The vet arrived and I held Saoirse and petted her, and soon she slipped into merciful sleep and her suffering was over.
Saoirse had a long and happy life. I have two other dogs to keep me happy. And as always, I'm convinced that even when you have to grieve over lost animals, the joy of having pets is
worth it all!
Above: Saoirse (on the right) and Nuala looking glamorous after their haircuts
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