We've had Sasha since early February, when Lenore could no longer take care of her. She came to us stressed out after two months of watching her "mother" (Lenore) decline in health, with many people (including health care professionals, friends, and support personnel) coming and going all hours of the day. She left Lenore's side as little as possible - for bathroom breaks and to greet visitors at the door. Other than that, she planted herself between the couch where Lenore spent her days and the coffee table - a small place for a large dog, but as close as possible without climbing up next to Lenore. Toward the end, as more health care professionals came to exam and move Lenore, Sasha watched every move with anxiety. We could tell that the responsibility of watching over Lenore was weighing hard on her and we finally decided that it was time for her to come live with us.
Sasha politely got into the car when I asked and rode home in the front seat next to me, shaking for the entire two hour drive. She refused the french fries I offered her as a peace offering. When we got home, she was greeted by the Hussa Boys - J, Toe, and Uncle Awesome - who all lavished her with attention. She was reserved and polite. I texted Lenore's full-time caregiver (and great friend) that Sasha was "cautiously optimistic."
She texted back that she and Lenore had had a good laugh over that one. It sounded just like Sasha.
I traveled back and forth between our house and Lenore's a lot this spring. At first, when I came back, Sasha would sniff me all over, tail wagging like crazy. Then Lenore died and I came home wearing a coat of Lenore's (long story - I used it for strength when I met with the lawyers). I held it out for Sasha to smell and she sniffed it, and then looked down at the floor, tail down, for a very long time. I hate to anthropomorphize, but it really looked like a moment of grief. J came into the room and she went to him and never looked back at the coat, even though I left it there for her to return to. After about half a day, I removed it and took it to the cleaner's.
Since that time, we have worked to make this fourteen year old girl feel as comfortable as possible and she has brought great joy to our lives. She bonded with Jason on Day 2 when he took her to the local pet store and gave her a bath. She has a bed on each floor of the house. Toe worships her with the adoration that a child gives his/her first pet. She is ever polite and gentle, a truly remarkable dog in the mildness of old age.
Sasha is a creature of habit and she gets a walk twice a day, rain or shine. The walk is for her, so we go at her pace, stopping as much as she wants to. She is very good on a leash and incredibly easy going. The length of the walk varies depending on her endurance on any particular day.
At Lenore's, there was usually another dog around and always had at least
four indoor cats prowling nearby. She has come to our house an only animal, so she is always on
the lookout for other animal life when we step out. She also loves stopping to meet people (many of whom comment on her beauty. I always respond with her age and the fact that she is so even-tempered).
Sasha spends the majority of any given outing with her nose in the air, following paths we can neither see nor smell. She stops to investigate regularly and sometimes leaves her "calling card." Her pace and process are incredibly methodical and I become absorbed watching her each walk. I am always fascinated to watch her ears, the way she sniffs one spot or follows a complete trail, how she finds a scent and picks it up five to ten feet away. It is like watching a detective or private investigator at work.
I know all dogs do this, but because of her age and pace, I take closer notice of her methodology (we stop A LOT). I wonder if it is just curiosity or instinct that drives her or if she is working like a detective, piecing together sordid tales of the outside world. There seems to be no outer purpose. Our old terrier lab mix, Abbey, always searched for small critters to catch. Not so with Sasha. Occasionally she will find someone hiding in the brush or see a deer crossing the road and show no desire to take chase - she looks on with interest but with no sense of predatory intent. It's fascinating.
Sasha spends her days sleeping and spending time lying in the back yard, watching birds come and go, but her favorite times of the day are dawn and dusk, the times when she can resume her investigation of the invisible neighborhood gossip. J and/or I, the Watsons to her Sherlock, accompany and watch and hope we learn something in the process.
