I’ve put off writing this for too long, but now the time is right…..
Brinny, my faithful, loyal dog for nearly fifteen years, was a Staffie/Jack Russell cross-breed, strong and stocky, and pulled like a train! She was mainly white, with large brindled patches of black and brown, a deep ‘staffie’ chest, and back legs that I’m sure contained springs! Like a ‘bull in a china shop’, she knocked me over several times. Whilst she was with me during the good times, she also saw me through many trials and tribulations. With a wagging tail and a cold wet nose, she was always eager to see me, even when she was old and arthritic and her strength was failing.
She was always my dog. The moment I stood up she was there, eager to get to where I was going before I did! She lay in the doorway to the office when I worked; by the side of my chair when I relaxed, and in her bed under the stairs at night, so that I couldn’t leave without her knowing! And she spoke with eyes that followed me wherever I went.
She came to us as an eager young rescue dog of one or maybe two years old. We never knew her background, except that her obvious dislike for travelling in the car led us to believe she had been taken somewhere by car and then abandoned. Initially she was always car-sick, but over the years, travelling became a little easier. But she still could never relax in the car, shivering and panting continuously; however, we knew she would always rather come with us than be left behind. Even when we travelled to the park, or out into the country, she didn’t like leaving the car, but just wanted to get back in and go home again. We got round that by mostly walking her locally.
The years went by, the children grew up, moved out and started their own lives. Brinny was my constant companion. Through sudden bereavement she was a warm body to stroke, and would always listen attentively – and never once disagreed with me! Brinny got older, white face turned to grey, her joints became painful with arthritis, and her hearing deteriorated. Sadly, her anxiety when I left her increased, even when she stayed with family members. This is a video my daughter Jo took when I went away for the weekend:
Finally, when Brinny was about sixteen, (one is never exactly sure with a rescue dog), it became clear that I couldn’t put off the inevitable for much longer. So in November last year I took her to the vet, and he agreed with me. I put it off for one more week, and then returned, and Brinny’s life gently slipped away in my arms. I now have another rescue dog, a very different dog, (more about him in another post), but Brinny will always have a special place in my memory and in my heart.