Sadie

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Sadie, fourteen years old

Sadie and Gidget, mom and daughter

Sadie and Gidget, mom and daughter

Sadie was Gidget’s mom. She lived for fourteen years and gave Pam and Russ (and me) a lot of happiness. A lot of happiness. She had a regal disposition and I think I can safely say we all felt privileged to know her. She was the boss of the house pushing aside the younger dogs and chastising them when they needed it (which was not infrequent). She was not a sweet little princess, but rather a gruff independent and occasionally ill-tempered matron. Just what you’d expect from a Queen. If Gidgie was a princess, it follows that Sadie was a queen. And a brave queen she was.

Any creature that dared to set paw or claw or scale or feather in her yard was given a guttural warning followed by an aggressive chase. God forbid she caught any of the perpetrators because they’d get a thrashing, a shaking, and a mauling that might very well end their lives. Luckily most denizens that creeped or crawled around the house popped over the fence, dived into a hole, or flew away to safety. Those bastard squirrel gangstas loved to prance on the telephone wires tantalizingly out of reach. She had her watchful eye on those untrustworthy balls of grey fur.

And since Sadie was royalty and having an outsized brave heart, she sometimes got into a fight she could not win. The other dogs, not possessing her Amazonian warrior spirit might circle and cry for help, but Sadie was usually left to tackle opossums and large rats on her own. Nor did she come out unscathed, but her head was always held high. I admired her courage.

Every evening she’d circle the living room and pick her bed to rest, nudging Gidgie, her daughter, or Foxy or Jack (two immigrant upstart Papillons) out of the way. Her spot was any damned place she wanted it to be. That could also be on your lap. That was the order of the universe and that was how it should be. The humans in the house refused her request at their own peril. We acquiesced and allowed her to slumber in our arms dreaming canine dreams (breaking canine wind), allowing us to love her as best as we could for the time God gave us.

Now she rests elsewhere, in a paradise that most assuredly contains her daughter who preceded her, chasing those squirrels, guarding her square of heaven, sleeping wherever she desires, dreaming sweet canine dreams, and waiting for us patiently util she can again rest in our laps, take her ease, and rest in our abiding love.

Good night my Queen.

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