Susanne's Adventures: Sasha the Dog

2/6/06

Dear Friends, I'm very sad to tell you that Sasha the dog died on Tuesday morning. She was only 8 1/2 years old. About a week after Thanksgiving, Sasha collapsed, and the vets at the emergency clinic took an ultrasound and found a tumor on her heart that had already spread to her spleen. She recovered from this traumatic experience beautifully, even though they gave her only a few days to live, maybe a month at most. She responded very well to a diuretic that helped keep fluids from putting pressure on her heart, and within a few days, she was the same energetic and perky dog she always had been, except she was no longer allowed to go on the long walks to the lake we used to take. She got almost two more months to enjoy life, and showed no signs of pain during that time. On Tuesday morning, she got up and went into the kitchen and collapsed suddenly of congestive heart failure. Everything happened so quickly, I don't believe that she suffered much at all. Sasha was a very special dog. Anyone that knew her was acquainted with her unique personality. Her early life was difficult, growing up on the mean streets of Tacoma, until she was taken in by the Humane Society. She was adopted by a college student and her group of friends at the University of Puget Sound when she was 1 /12 years old, and went from a very shy, neglected pup, to a loyal, loving dog. She excelled in obediance classes but still went crazy every time she saw a cat. The vets said she was was half Dalmation, half English Pointer, but no one really knows for sure. William F Buckley the Third told me she was a turkey dog, whatever that means, and she could have gone to bird dog school if dhe's had the chance. She was part hunting dog, part guard dog, and you'd always feel safe walking anywhere if Sasha came along, even in the middle of the night. In the spring of 2001, the girl she had been living with graduated from college, and joined Teach for America for an assignment in Louisiana. She was not able to take Sasha with her, so she posted her "profile" on petfinder.org, to find her a new home, and that is how I found her. I drove down to Tacoma, and knew as soon as I met her that she was the right dog to adopt. Sasha was an active dog. The first trick she ever showed us was "doggie dancer", where she would jump up in the air and twist herself in a circle, especially if there was food involved. In fact, Sasha would do almost anything for a treat. She liked to do other tricks, like growling on command, playing dead, high-five and high ten. In the car, when the humans started to sing, she would howl along with them. Cats were her obsession. She could stare out the window for hours, without moving a muscle, fixated on something that looked vaguely catlike across the street. She was the neighborhood watchdog, and people always noticed her black and white face through the window when they walked by the house. She once tried to eat a duck, but was unsuccessful. Sasha had a weakness for street food. Anything anyone had dropped, even if it was invisible to the human eye, she would root out with fer powerful little nose, and was loathe to give it up. At the dog park, when she got revved up, she'd go into crazy dog mode. Her eyes would glaze over and she'd start running in circles until exhausted. She loved to chase other dogs who chase balls, but she was no retriever herself. She didn't like the water, but would run along the shore up to her elbows in pursuit of other dogs. She loved hanging out with friends Angie and Maya, who took care of her while I was out of town. She enjoyed sleepovers with her doggie friend Chester at neighbor Ann and Gretchen's house, where she always made a B-line for his food bowl. She went with me to do field research on birds in the Cascades, and got very excited when she saw an elk. She camped and hiked with us at Paula and Miska's wedding near Bend, Oregon. At my old house in Fremont, we lived on the second floor, and one day in te summertime, I came home, and couldn't find the dog anywhere. Finally, I located her. She had seen a cat, and climbed out the open window onto the roof to investigate. She hated the word "bath" and would become very excited at the word "kitty". She hated baths in general, but would jump right into the bathtub to get it over with. Sasha got many compliments for her good looks. After a bath, we'd go on a walk and inevitably run into several people who said she was the best looking dog they'd ever seen. Sasha went with me to Montana, and she ran up and down the trails with glee. She loved snow, but wasn't born to be a snow dog, and one time we walked into a snowy Bozeman park, and she fell over because her little paws had started to freeze, so I had to pick her up and carry her to the car. She once saw a wolf-dog in Bozeman, and went so nuts that she broke her leash, which was rated to 110 pounds. She loved looking for ground squirrels in Idaho. One of our favorite things in the last few years was to go on long walks through the Colman Park pea patch in Mount Baker all the way to Lake Washington or Seward Park. We'd be out for hours, enjoying a summer sunset or a midnight stroll. Sasha touched a lot of people. She was fierce, but also fiercely loyal. She led with her nose. She was there for me through some very hard times with unconditional love. She was family. It's strange to come home now to an empty house, and not have her wake up, bleary eyed from her nap on the bed, to greet me after work, ready and raring to go on a walk. I miss her very much. Thanks to everyone who gave her love, played with her, took care of her while I was out of town, and had a chance to know her. She is buried under a redwood tree at my mother's house in Redmond, with some of her favorite bones, a chew toy, and a tennis ball.

Susanne