..my beloved Lady.
I had her from grade one until 2 years ago and she was my best friend, my baby, my breakfast buddy and my confidant.
When I was younger and we owned the caravan park I used to walk her around the orchards almost every day. She wasn't trained but she (almost) always knew the difference between a short whistle and a long whistle, short meaning stop, and long meaning come back. As I got older I didn't really play with Lady as much, and I felt guilty about that, but Lady was never the "fetching" type, she was never an inside dog and she was quite independent. We had a big backyard so as soon as she got bored of me she'd just wander off somewhere else.
Some of my scariest moments in my life were because of her, like the time she escaped the backyard at the caravan park and ran on the highway, or when she escaped the house in Barooga and was attacked by dogs, she found her way inside the house whimpering and hid under the kitchen table. After taking her to the vet and getting her stitches she hid in the laundry cupboard for a week and refused to come out. My heart has never hurt so much. I've also nearly fainted at the vet more than once when she was sick or hurt. She was my baby you know.
There's something so innocent and fragile about animals, and for me especially dogs. Lady had feelings, a personality, habits. When I was angry she could calm me, when I was upset she would sit by me, she even used to drink my coffee dregs every morning in year 12 when I ate breakfast outside in our backyard. I miss her so much it hurts some days, and when I think about her being hurt or sad and sick it still makes me cry. In a way I'm glad I wasn't there when she did pass away, she was 13 years old and within a single week got sick and died. Up until that week she was still the same Lady she had always been, albeit slightly slower. Because of this I don't have a memory of her dying, and I'm glad of that. She didn't suffer for long, but then again, I never really got to say goodbye.
I love you Lady, I miss our talks.