17 years ago my step father adopted a baby German Shepherd. I don't remember much from back then, only that she was the most excitable, most lovable little pup that ever lived.
One memory that does stick out strongly from back then was during a sleep-over birthday party I had held. We had pitched a tent out in the back yard where she lived, and upon trying to sleep several times to no avail, my friends and I got hungry. This was around 1 in the morning. We flicked on the little electric lantern that hung from the top of the tent only to hear an ominous galloping noise outside of the tent.
Then my lovable, now very large, German Shepherd barreled into the side of our tent. In a panic we switched off the light and she ceased her assault.
…Only for one of my friends to switch the light back on as a joke.
The screaming actually woke our parents.
Around 11 years into her life, we moved country.
She spent weeks away from us in quarantine until she was deemed clean enough to come to our new home. She licked and barked and jumped on us like there was no tomorrow.
From then on, I traveled back and forth from country to country, sometimes away from her for months, to see family. The best welcome back was always from my old she-doggy. Once, when my brother and grandmother visited the new home, she decided she wasn't getting enough action and proceeded to hump the legs of my brother and I – and the whole of my poor prone grandmother.
About three years ago she started to develop arthritis.
About two years ago, her hearing started to go.
About one year ago, I remember hearing her whining outside the kitchen door while I was doing something or other inside. I was home alone at the time so I rushed out, not having a clue what was wrong, and the moment she saw me she stopped whining.
I sat outside with her for some time, checking her for snake bites, cuts, broken bones, anything – but it was as if nothing was wrong with her. I assumed she was just looking for attention, so I headed back inside. A little while after, she started whining again – but I ignored her because I didn't want to teach her that it was a good method of getting attention.
She didn't stop for about an hour.
I went back outside again, and she was in the same position, lying on her side by the kitchen door. I was starting to get the idea that something was very, very wrong – only she stopped whining every time she saw me. I sat with her for bit again, but it still looked as if nothing was wrong. So I hid where she couldn't see me and waited until she started whining again.
It was like I had taken a bludgeon right to my heart when I realized she was whining because she couldn't even stand up. It was the first time I really realized how old she was, and how there was a possibility of her not being around me forever. It sounds childish I know, but it honestly seemed as if nothing could take her from me – before then, at least.
Two months ago I moved back to my home country. This was on my own, and my German Shepherd did not come with me.
About a week ago I received a call from my step father. We talked a little about nothing for a while, but I felt I knew what the call was really about. He said he had some bad news to tell me and my heart dropped to the floor. He told me how, roughly a month and a half after I left, her arthritis got to the point where she couldn't move her hind legs at all. How they couldn't get a vet to come to the house, to look at her and help relieve her pain. How, after an extremely difficult set of days, they decided it was time to let her go.
I will love that dog for ever and ever, and I wrote this piece to make sure that I never forget about her.
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