- Thread starter
- #911
- Nov 17, 2010
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My oldest golden Lyla is nine and a half. She’s not a healthy dog. She starting having seizures at age five, was diagnosed with hip dysplasia at age 7 and Inflammatory Bowel Disease at 8 1/2. But she rallied and a year later she’s still here. Slow of foot and a bit wobbly from the mass amounts of anti-seizure meds she takes, but still here. She eats, she walks in the woods with me every day and her quality of life is still good. I love her very much. And as long as her good days still outnumber the bad, I will take care of her and keep her safe.
I don’t know how it happened, but Lyla’s full sister from another litter-they are two years apart- is quite healthy at age 7 ½ now. No genetic diseases at all, knock on wood. Her hips are wonderful and she is as perfect as a golden can be. We got our 3rd golden baby Mimi a little over a year ago. I did research this time and found the best breeder I could find. Mimi is gorgeous and EXTREMELY full of energy and drive that Penny doesn’t have. Mimi is a golden bred to compete, to retrieve 30 ducks in a day while hunting or run an agility course at full speed. Keeping her exercised and challenged on a daily basis is quite the task!
Lyla needs so much attention too. Between giving Lyla her pills 6 times a day and making sure Mimi doesn’t eat anything from the laundry basket or chew on the cat too much, sometimes Penny doesn’t get as much attention as she truly deserves. It’s easy to forget Penny because she’s just such a good dog. I call her name; turn around and then just about trip over her. She’s my shadow. Penny is a reflection of my emotions. When I am sad, so is she. When I am frightened she clings to my side. And when I am happy she smiles from ear to ear.
When we visited my parents I would always open the front door and says, “Where’s Grampa? Where is he? Where’s Gramma?” Then Lyla and Penny would dash from room to room. I knew when I heard Penny’s golden song, “Woooooooooooo” that meant she had found them. That was her joyous hello reserved only for the very special people in her life. She’s a talky dog.
After my father died I had to go to my parents’ house to begin the process of dealing with all the stuff. That awful process of touching things that used to belong to the people you love and then having to decide what to do with it. It’s such a hard thing. I still haven’t finished even now, two years later. There are boxes I may never open because just thinking about what’s in them is still too painful to bear. The clothes my dad wore the last time he was in the hospital and the contents of his dresser drawer with all the little trinkets that he saved over a lifetime. How can I just throw them away? His shoes that I can still remember what they looked like on his feet.
To see the place I grew up in empty of my parents but still with all their stuff inside was one of the hardest I have ever had to do. As I walked up to the front door my limbs didn’t want to move. I went into their house with a level of grief in my heart only surpassed by the moments that they had died. So imagine my surprise when Penny joyfully bolted through the front door! She dashed up the stairs and into the kitchen. Then she looked back at me smiling and panting.
“Wooooooooo,” her golden talk filled the air. Were my parents still here? Could she feel them? Was she joyful because they were not in pain anymore? I didn't understand. I let her outside so she and Lyla could chase the squirrels away from the birdfeeder. I swear I could hear my dad laughing, “Get ‘em. Get those stupid squirrels!” The fresh squirrels waiting to the last minute before they took off. Then dashing up a tree and taunting the dogs just out of reach. It was the same game, one the dogs would never win. But it sure had made my dad laugh.
Squirrels gone, Penny came back to me, happy and wagging her tail as she licked the tears from my face. As I cleaned out the house in the months that followed Penny was never anything but joyful. And then when I stepped out of my childhood home for the last time-somehow her joy made it not quite so hard.
Penny at 8 months and Penny at 7 years....still happy...
I don’t know how it happened, but Lyla’s full sister from another litter-they are two years apart- is quite healthy at age 7 ½ now. No genetic diseases at all, knock on wood. Her hips are wonderful and she is as perfect as a golden can be. We got our 3rd golden baby Mimi a little over a year ago. I did research this time and found the best breeder I could find. Mimi is gorgeous and EXTREMELY full of energy and drive that Penny doesn’t have. Mimi is a golden bred to compete, to retrieve 30 ducks in a day while hunting or run an agility course at full speed. Keeping her exercised and challenged on a daily basis is quite the task!
Lyla needs so much attention too. Between giving Lyla her pills 6 times a day and making sure Mimi doesn’t eat anything from the laundry basket or chew on the cat too much, sometimes Penny doesn’t get as much attention as she truly deserves. It’s easy to forget Penny because she’s just such a good dog. I call her name; turn around and then just about trip over her. She’s my shadow. Penny is a reflection of my emotions. When I am sad, so is she. When I am frightened she clings to my side. And when I am happy she smiles from ear to ear.
When we visited my parents I would always open the front door and says, “Where’s Grampa? Where is he? Where’s Gramma?” Then Lyla and Penny would dash from room to room. I knew when I heard Penny’s golden song, “Woooooooooooo” that meant she had found them. That was her joyous hello reserved only for the very special people in her life. She’s a talky dog.
After my father died I had to go to my parents’ house to begin the process of dealing with all the stuff. That awful process of touching things that used to belong to the people you love and then having to decide what to do with it. It’s such a hard thing. I still haven’t finished even now, two years later. There are boxes I may never open because just thinking about what’s in them is still too painful to bear. The clothes my dad wore the last time he was in the hospital and the contents of his dresser drawer with all the little trinkets that he saved over a lifetime. How can I just throw them away? His shoes that I can still remember what they looked like on his feet.
To see the place I grew up in empty of my parents but still with all their stuff inside was one of the hardest I have ever had to do. As I walked up to the front door my limbs didn’t want to move. I went into their house with a level of grief in my heart only surpassed by the moments that they had died. So imagine my surprise when Penny joyfully bolted through the front door! She dashed up the stairs and into the kitchen. Then she looked back at me smiling and panting.
“Wooooooooo,” her golden talk filled the air. Were my parents still here? Could she feel them? Was she joyful because they were not in pain anymore? I didn't understand. I let her outside so she and Lyla could chase the squirrels away from the birdfeeder. I swear I could hear my dad laughing, “Get ‘em. Get those stupid squirrels!” The fresh squirrels waiting to the last minute before they took off. Then dashing up a tree and taunting the dogs just out of reach. It was the same game, one the dogs would never win. But it sure had made my dad laugh.
Squirrels gone, Penny came back to me, happy and wagging her tail as she licked the tears from my face. As I cleaned out the house in the months that followed Penny was never anything but joyful. And then when I stepped out of my childhood home for the last time-somehow her joy made it not quite so hard.
Penny at 8 months and Penny at 7 years....still happy...
No more sign!!!
