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bigmacbear) wrote2007-02-01 01:09 pm
bigmacbear) wrote2007-02-01 01:09 pm
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Brandy Algonquin Merridew McManus, 1991-2007
Back in September of 1991 the housemate of my partner at the time went to Lollipop Farm in the Rochester, New York suburbs, where she chose a Cairn Terrier puppy. Within weeks she had left and the puppy became my partner's responsibility. They named her Brandy Algonquin, but called her "Booboo" for short. She was from the start a bundle of nervous energy, and got along well with the resident pets of the lady downstairs (two Saint Bernards and three cats) to the point where I think she picked up a number of cat traits, like perching on the back of sofas and love seats to get a better view of the world around her.
About three years later, my partner and I had split but he needed someone to adopt Brandy, as he was moving into an apartment that would not accept pets. I agreed, since I was then living alone in a big townhouse. That's when Brandy became part of my life.
As the years went on she displayed an affection for people that she did not often share with other dogs. However, she made several friends among the neighborhood dogs, including a couple of Shepherd/Lab mixes around the corner, and a succession of next-door neighbors: a Bouvier de Flanders whom everyone thought was her father, and later a charming "cockerdoodle" whom no one could mistake for her puppy (especially once he outgrew her). She never lost her curiosity for the world around her, and once when my parents were visiting she caught a glimpse of something out the window and flew from her perch on the back of the sofa to stand in the window and bark at it, using my Mom as a stepladder in the process (much to her surprise).
She could be stubborn when she wanted to be, which is par for the course with terriers. As such, she did not get along well with a later partner of mine, who thought of her as a "rat dog" and called her that a lot. Later we realized she was the epitome of the alpha bitch.
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gmjambear came along, Brandy took to him immediately. Whereas with my previous partner she was my dog, with Gary she became our dog. And Gary took to her as well.
As we traveled over the years, Brandy would often stay at what we affectionately referred to as the "Puppy Motel" -- Cedar Knoll Kennels in Bristol, about a 45 minute drive from Rochester. The proprietor liked her very much and the kennel was never full when she needed to go. But some of our best travels were those where we could bring Brandy along. She loved car trips, and especially camping. Of course, our cross-country move from Rochester to Renton was a big adventure for her as well.
It was on our last camping trip with her (August 2006) that we began to notice her favoring her left front paw. We thought maybe she'd gotten some gravel wedged in her pads or something. But upon examination by the vet it turned out she had a malignant tumor on her shoulder. After a few nail-biting days of inconclusive tests, the final tests showed that the type of tumor she had was invariably fatal, and in a younger dog would be treated aggressively with amputation and chemotherapy but that sort of treatment would be futile in a dog of her age. Initial estimates were that she would live two to four months after diagnosis. But up until the very end she remained reasonably alert and comfortable as far as we -- and the pain medications prescribed by the vets -- could provide for her.
Yesterday, about five months after her diagnosis, I walked her in the morning and she seemed fairly energetic, although she'd stopped using the leg with the tumor and as a consequence was putting extra stress on her remaining legs. During the day Gary noticed that she was no longer able to walk -- probably one too many leaps from her perch on the furniture had given her an injury to one of her hind legs that would not clear up on its own. She did not finish her dinner, leaving about a quarter of it. Overnight she seemed distressed, so I called the vet to make an appointment this morning. She ate little of her breakfast, and was unable to even squat long enough to pee outside.
So after a few sessions of cuddles and petting from both of us, we bid her farewell just before noon today. It's incredibly sad to have it end like this, but I like to think Brandy has had a long and happy life as best we could give her. Rest in peace, Brandy.
About three years later, my partner and I had split but he needed someone to adopt Brandy, as he was moving into an apartment that would not accept pets. I agreed, since I was then living alone in a big townhouse. That's when Brandy became part of my life.
As the years went on she displayed an affection for people that she did not often share with other dogs. However, she made several friends among the neighborhood dogs, including a couple of Shepherd/Lab mixes around the corner, and a succession of next-door neighbors: a Bouvier de Flanders whom everyone thought was her father, and later a charming "cockerdoodle" whom no one could mistake for her puppy (especially once he outgrew her). She never lost her curiosity for the world around her, and once when my parents were visiting she caught a glimpse of something out the window and flew from her perch on the back of the sofa to stand in the window and bark at it, using my Mom as a stepladder in the process (much to her surprise).
She could be stubborn when she wanted to be, which is par for the course with terriers. As such, she did not get along well with a later partner of mine, who thought of her as a "rat dog" and called her that a lot. Later we realized she was the epitome of the alpha bitch.
When
gmjambear came along, Brandy took to him immediately. Whereas with my previous partner she was my dog, with Gary she became our dog. And Gary took to her as well.As we traveled over the years, Brandy would often stay at what we affectionately referred to as the "Puppy Motel" -- Cedar Knoll Kennels in Bristol, about a 45 minute drive from Rochester. The proprietor liked her very much and the kennel was never full when she needed to go. But some of our best travels were those where we could bring Brandy along. She loved car trips, and especially camping. Of course, our cross-country move from Rochester to Renton was a big adventure for her as well.
It was on our last camping trip with her (August 2006) that we began to notice her favoring her left front paw. We thought maybe she'd gotten some gravel wedged in her pads or something. But upon examination by the vet it turned out she had a malignant tumor on her shoulder. After a few nail-biting days of inconclusive tests, the final tests showed that the type of tumor she had was invariably fatal, and in a younger dog would be treated aggressively with amputation and chemotherapy but that sort of treatment would be futile in a dog of her age. Initial estimates were that she would live two to four months after diagnosis. But up until the very end she remained reasonably alert and comfortable as far as we -- and the pain medications prescribed by the vets -- could provide for her.
Yesterday, about five months after her diagnosis, I walked her in the morning and she seemed fairly energetic, although she'd stopped using the leg with the tumor and as a consequence was putting extra stress on her remaining legs. During the day Gary noticed that she was no longer able to walk -- probably one too many leaps from her perch on the furniture had given her an injury to one of her hind legs that would not clear up on its own. She did not finish her dinner, leaving about a quarter of it. Overnight she seemed distressed, so I called the vet to make an appointment this morning. She ate little of her breakfast, and was unable to even squat long enough to pee outside.
So after a few sessions of cuddles and petting from both of us, we bid her farewell just before noon today. It's incredibly sad to have it end like this, but I like to think Brandy has had a long and happy life as best we could give her. Rest in peace, Brandy.
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Hugs!