In Memory of a Good Dog: Suzie

We got Suzie as a rescue dog when she was almost a year old. Friends from church ran Springset Kennels just down the road from us at the time. She came shivering with fear and the first night my husband rocked the 45 pound dog on his lap to settle her down. She was fine the next morning, it was just tough that first night away from the pack she’d lived with.

We got her because I needed an excuse to go for a walk and an energetic dog did just the trick. Gordon Setters are trained as hunting dogs, but something had scrambled in her breeding and she wasn’t particularly interested in birds: squirrels and cats were more intriguing to her. She was a joy to walk, her plumed tail waving high and her muzzle raised to the sky in anticipation.

Mostly she lived in our backyard with forays onto the front deck to watch the neighborhood. Our yard borders a green belt and the thrill of spying wandering deer was palpable when she barked. Twice she found deer in our swimming pool (one dead, the others swimming laps) and the dog who didn’t like to get her ears wet could be found treading water for months afterwards, just in case they’d returned.

If anyone pushed back in the swing, Suzie would take a running leap to join them.

One day I found an inflatable owl in the back of my daughter’s closet. I put it on a pole in the vegetable garden for fun.

Suzie trotted around the corner of the house and froze, right front paw up, tail out straight and nose pointed at the prey.

We willed ourselves not to laugh, she was so serious. When we brought the “owl” to her, her shoulder sort of sagged. It sure didn’t smell like  a bird.

We had to divide our house into two halves: “dog land” and “cat land.”

Suzie lived with us in the great room most of the time. The long hallway leading to the bedrooms was off-limits. Occasionally, Suzie spied the cat and went into full point.

My husband, unfortunately in her opinion, never shot the cat. But, hope drove her, for years, to point out the cat was slinking away.

One horrific night, Suzie cornered a rat behind the desk. When my son pulled it out, Suzie pounced on the vermin.

I stood on a chair screaming.

She looked around and did the most logical thing: she tossed the rat to the “alpha dog,” my husband.

He jerked back and the rat got away–for just a moment before the hunting dog retrieved it.

Part of our agreement with Springset Kennels meant this beautiful dog of exquisite lineage would provide a litter of puppies. My daughter and I were on hand as Suzie produced nine. We watched the membrane sacs with wide eyes as our dog bit them open and licked the wet black nymph-like creatures with her pink tongue. We marveled as the puppies took their first breaths and we saw life begin.

“Suzie’s an excellent mother,” the kennel owners said. “She never killed any of her puppies.”

(Gordons can get distracted and roll onto the pups by mistake).

The real glory of Suzie’s life was the backpacking trip she took with my husband and daughter. Because they hiked the beach at Lost Coast, she had to wear booties.

She didn’t like them.

But the rest of the trip–my husband estimates she ran twenty miles for the seven they hiked–was glorious.

Twenty-eight months ago, I discovered I had become a “seeing eye human.” Suzie went blind in a short week, probably from Cushing’s Disease.

My niece the vet consoled us: “Sight is the third most important sense to a dog. Her ability to smell and hear are more important. She won’t really care if you don’t. Just love her the same.”

This was a dog who would stare out the window for long hours just because she saw a squirrel run past one day.

I think she was depressed. One cold rainy night, Suzie insisted on going out. She wouldn’t return when I called her. When I finally found her, she was huddled in a shallow hole the farthest point from the house. I had to drag Suzie back into the house that night, it almost felt like she was trying to die.

A few days later, Suzie was her ebullient self again. Tail wagging, staring into corners, lifting her head when her favorite humans came home. She loved to walk around Spring Lake, always way in the lead, because she had trod the trail so often, she didn’t need to see anything.

She particularly enjoyed visits from young adorable grandchildren who spilled food.

But at twelve years, she obviously was slowing down. Her hearing became suspect.

On Thursday, May 2, we took our usual walk around Spring Lake. Her “other mother” Rachel was with us. As we neared the end of our four miles, Suzie was plodding, veering to the side and slow. Her breathing sounded labored.

We got her to the car and went directly to the vet. “This doesn’t sound good, Michelle,” he said. “Are you prepared?”

The x-ray showed multiple carcinomas.

I tried hard to keep the panic from my voice as I rubbed her ears and told her, yet again, how much we loved her, what a good dog she was, what a good job she had always done. Tears, of course, dripped down my nose onto her beautiful black feathery body.

I saw her gray tongue, her dim eyes faded, and then she laid down her head.

Gone.

We give away a piece of our hearts when we love our pets. Click to Tweet

Maybe God gives them to us for only a short time as a way to keep our hearts tender to those who need our care, who can’t do so well without us–whether four-legged or two. Click to Tweet

We like to think she’s in heaven running with her long ears flopping in the breeze, her eyes keen again and the joy filling her happy soul.

Oh Susanna of Springset Kennel was a very good dog.

We’re going to miss her.