This sweet girl crossed the Rainbow Bridge this morning. She'd been poorly for a week or so. Eating little, sleeping a lot. Early this morning she got up from the floor next to my bed, the place where she'd slept every single night. Walked, unsteady on her feet but still unaided, out to the living room. Where she laid down on the floor, and didn't get up again.
It was Barkimedes Max who alerted me to what had happened. He was whining and pushing his nose at his adopted grandma. Ordinarily that'd be enough to get her up. She hadn't cried or whined or anything. She just left us. It was not entirely unexpected, for me at least. But it was clear that Max was very upset.
My kids used a rock bar and pick ax to dig a grave for her out behind our house. They were able to do in less than an hour a job that would have taken me at least the whole morning. For which I was grateful, and told them so.
Cookie was the runt of a litter of thirteen puppies. Her mom was a Rottie mix, who looked exactly like her daughter only way bigger. Her name was Oreo, she was a very cool dog and I named our puppy Cookie in her honor. Oreo died shortly after giving birth, and her humans devoted themselves to saving her puppies, bottle feeding them until they were ready to go to their new homes. Cookie may have been the smallest but she grew up to eventually be good sized, about 60 pounds in her prime.
Cookie was also the only dog that our cat, Lacey, really liked. Lacey would actually sit there and let that dog slurp on her face like she was a puppy herself. If any other of our dogs had tried that I shudder to think what she might have done!
Farewell sweet girl, until we meet again. Tell Ninja I love him and miss him; have fun with all the other dogs and cats and birds. You're a good dog and I love you.