Passages

Mrs. Orr took Dixee to the vet this morning, as she has not been improving. We have been discussing what to do in case the news was grim.

The ultrasound and xrays showed no tumor, no growth, but the vet determined she had neurological issues for which they could do little except steroid injections, which would only prolong her decline. So Dixee departed this life this morning with her mama with her, and I trust that now she’s romping in a green field somewhere with her beloved sissy, Bonnie.

Dixee came to us via a cranky old woman. A man had approached the old woman with Dixee in his arms, explaining that he worked construction and that the scraggly little dog had been at his construction site since the previous Friday, and had come out to greet him Monday morning. She was filthy and starving. The old woman took her in and carried her to the vet’s office and had her examined and bathed.

Mrs. Orr met the woman when both of them were at the vet’s office not long after this, and she asked my wife if she might be interested in taking the little dog in, as she really didn’t have the room or resources to care for her. My wife consulted with me on the phone, and we decided that Bonnie, our gorgeous Golden Retriever, might benefit from a playmate. So the deal was done, and Dixee came home to live with us. We named her that night because of her toughness and her gray coat.

The first thing she did when she entered our home was run and jump up on the back of the couch, standing regally as if to proclaim, “I’m here!” Interestingly, she never again jumped up on the couch. The vet who had initially seen her estimated that she was between 3 and 5 years old. She was with us for 12 years, so she lived to be about 15-17 years of age. She was a mix between a poodle and some sort of terrier, a good combination that meant no shedding. Dixee was also a highly intelligent dog, keen in her perceptions and ability to read our moods.

Dixee and Bonnie became fast friends and slept together and ate all their meals together. They would gallop in the back yard, chasing each other almost to exhaustion. Then they’d stop dead still, stand there for a minute getting their breath, and then reverse direction with the former pursuer now the pursued. When Bonnie died several years ago, Dixee grieved deeply. She did come to enjoy her short-lived status as the only dog in the home, until the spotted menace, Jinx, showed up at our farm and refused any suggestion of leaving. Dixee absolutely loathed Jinx, and did until the very end. They had some temporary truces, but the animosity was ever present. Bluebelle and Dixee got along well, though Bluebelle generally ignored the little dog and sometimes seemed surprised when Dixee would stroll into the room or out on the porch.

Dixee was absolutely Mrs. Orr’s dog. She never had much use for me, though I did like to torment her by baring my teeth at her. Without fail, every time I did this, Dixee would bear her teeth back at me and begin moaning and growling and acting all put out, as if telling her mistress, “He’s tormenting me, mama!” But as much as my wife wanted a little lap dog (which is a big part of why she brought her home), Dixee  never was. She might sprawl quietly in the chair next to Mrs. Orr for short periods, but she never wanted to be held. She was devoted to and affectionate with my wife, following her around the house and watching her during meal preparations, but she was never a cuddle-puppy.

When we added a front and back porch to our farmhouse a couple of years ago, we noticed something odd. Dixee was almost always restless and uneasy on the back porch, even when both of us were out there with her. But the front porch — she had a special fondness for that porch, with its sun-warmed boards and the little garden and birdbath just beyond. She was always at ease and at rest when on the front porch, which I will forever think of as Dixee’s porch.

Our vet told us that Dixee was a wonder dog because the xrays he took several years back to diagnose a problem showed that her hips and pelvis had been horribly mangled and had healed back crooked. And yet, she could almost outrun the other dogs when she put her mind to it, front and back legs swapping places like a greyhound. These last days watching her drag her hind legs around, splaying them out and unable to control them, were particularly painful because of the memory of how she used to run, up until just a couple of weeks ago.

Dixee had at least one litter of puppies before she came to live with us, and Mrs. Orr and I have mused many times about how many there might have been, where they might be now, and what kind of mother Dixee was when they were with her.

This morning when Mrs. Orr advised me that Dixee had been helped from this life by the doc, the spotted twins both came into the room with me and sat and watched me; it was somewhat eerie.  Jinx hitched a big sigh and left the room. Bluebelle curled up at my feet, but then she sighed deeply just like her brother, and stood up and left the room. A short while later, I found them both curled up on the loveseat in the back bedroom, something they never do during the daytime and especially not in warm weather. Right now, they are somber and silent, showing no interest in the rabbits and chipmunks scampering past the door.

When my wife left home this morning with Dixee, I carried the stoic little dog to the car and put her in the bed on the seat next to Mrs. Orr’s. I stroked her head and then bent and kissed her soft, clean-smelling head and whispered, “I love you, Dixee.” She lifted her head and gazed into my face with her cataract-burnished eyes, and then reached for the chew toy my wife had placed in the bed. I watched them all the way down the driveway.

If you’re inclined to pray, please pray for Mrs. Orr. She seems calm and at peace about this, but I suspect she has some rough days ahead. These passages are never easy. We’re such interesting beings, as someone once noted, in that we take in these little creatures, welcome them into our hearts, knowing full well that they will break our hearts someday.

Rest in peace, Dixee Doodles. You were greatly loved and will be greatly missed. I suspect we’ll have a joyous reunion someday on the other side of this river. All of us who shared a home and a season together.

~ S.K. Orr