… is that they die before you – taking a chunk of your heart with them.
Rani went away peacefully, after an injection. She lifted up her head and said good bye. And, then she was gone. She had been unwell. Her kidneys were in a bad shape, and her hind legs had lost feeling. She would howl with agony. I would stay up at nights, just massaging her legs, which seemed to offer her some measure of relief.
She was a dog with a sense of humour. An imperious air that would be used alternatively to berate us, or to show us love 🙂 But, she could also regress to being a pup – demanding we play with her, scratch her belly, scratch her ears. She would purr (yes purr ) with joy. She hated it if we left our house. Our time was hers – to be at her beck and call. She came to us as a frightened little puppy 14 years ago. She left us as a well loved, superbly smug, confident dog(ess) 14 years later. The intervening 14 made me a better person. A kinder one, also a more forgiving one. The angry me dissolved bringing up Rani. I can’t hold anger anymore. I can’t even hold a grudge 🙁
I loved her dearly. and, will I miss her terribly. There is a hole where my heart was
Rani Hound(ess) August 16th 2003 – August 16th 2016 – Rest my Queen.
and, here are glimpses from her life –
