An Old Dog Goes to Earth

On Saturday I dug a small grave for my parent's aged Welsh terrier who was on her very last legs.

Deaf as a post, blind as a bat, and losing control over her faculties and her facilities, her bones ached so much she could barely move, and her rear legs shook so hard I wondered if they were hooked up to a sewing-machine treadle.

Her tail had long ago given up all its hair for reasons no veterinarian could fathom, and she had a half dozen small benign cysts and carbuncles scattered across her back.

Like most very old dogs, she was starting to look a bit like bad taxidermy.

In the end, when she finally got up the energy and will power to move, she would start slowly across the carpet and forget where she was going before reaching the fringe.

This was the second Cambrian Right Stuff, the first having expired at age 15, and this one at the slightly older age of 15 and a half.

Stuff the Younger is buried right next to Stuff the Elder, and also next to Scoot, the family dog that we had when I was growing up. That's Scoot's headstone in the shot below. Stuff's the Younger's grave is right behind that, under the flat rock that has a spray of Rosemary on top.

Stuff had a great life -- constant attention, nightly ball tosses with my father, walks around the neighborhood, a personal groomer that came into town to do her hair, and her very own space on the couch right next to my mother.

Stuff was a happy youngster and a dignified oldster, with a slightly strangled bark that was uniquely her own.  

She was never the slightest bit of trouble other than she was sometimes too lazy or too pristine to go outside for a poop or a pee. Oh we have a Persian carpet?  Excellent!

Like so many terriers, she kept the house safe from the postman, and she also participated in maid duties, with her specialty being any bit of food that might bounce off the kitchen floor. She was not above doing dishes. She lived to tuck her head into my mother's lap.

When Stuff got so old she could no longer jump up on the couch, a carpeted step was fashioned so she could find her way to her customary place. Did I mention she was loved? True!

One of the great things about modern veterinary care is that euthanasia of an aged dog is a quiet thing and comes as a painless relief to the dog, if not the owner. It is the last best thing we can do for our charges. Let us not be too early, but let us not be too late either. This is not our choice, but our responsibility.

God Speed sweet Stuff. You will be sorely missed by all of us that loved you.


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