My mum's dog died today. She was never 'my' dog in that way that you claim when you're 8, but she was a puppy when I was a teenager living at home, and I was the one who took her out for walks every day. I taught her to sit when she reached a curb, instead of running out into the road, and all that kind of stuff. I threw sticks for her (she never did learn to stop running
before she was right on top of them), and I played tug-o-war with her. She used to win that sometimes, because I'm so scrawny and she was pretty solid :)
She was often as thick as two short planks, but unswervingly loyal and loving, and surprisingly cute in a hideous bull terrier sort of way ;) She always defended the family first, and in a family-family playfight, she would always defend the weaker individual - a dog with a well developed sense of justice :) She will be very much missed by me and my siblings.
She was more than 15 years old, which is pretty good going for a Staffy... their hearts tend to give out fairly young apparently. When I saw her at Xmas, I knew that it was almost certainly the last time I would see her... I said 'goodbye' properly before I left. I'm glad I thought to do it.
( Photo of Loki, with my sister Gina )![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
