Or – Lots of Great Memories

Yesterday was the final journey my fur kid would make with me by her side. Just shy of eleven years old, she’s traveled more than most.

Sydney to HK, she’s flown, been in various cars (including trips up and down the east coast of Autralia), taxis, speedboats, sanpans and ferries – she only had trains to mark from her transport bingo card.

She was the ying to the cat’s yang. She was chilled out, kicked back and brilliant. Yes, she was my favourite. I know I’m not meant to have favourites, yet I did. Somehow it was impossible to be negative around her.

She was many, many things. Here’s a few.

My running buddy – flat out with you or flat out at your feet was how the breed is often depicted. In this, she was an accurate reflection. Running every other morning and walking the ones in between, she would go for as long or as little as I wanted. Running off lead, she’d usually be in front, checking what was ahead. From my perspective, it was great to watch her muscles flex, every piece of her seemingly created for this purpose. She was lean, athletic and elegant. Once she grew into her feet…

My motivator – in some tough times, she was there to give me a nudge, comfort me and lick away my tears. When I didn’t feel like getting out of bed, she would remind me I needed to. She kept me fit and moving. She gave me something else to focus on. Routine is good. Life goes on.

My personal trainer – running along, she would stop, turnaround and wait for me to catch up before starting again. She rarely seemed breathless (between trotting and sprinting, the only difference was her pace) and would lean toward interval training, rushing off so she could sniff the nearby bush while I caught up and she could dart off again. If I fell (obviously I’m still growing into my feet), she would come back to check that I was ok, give me a lick, a bit of a sympathetic look and if I didn’t appear to be moving, that look would transform into a caring version of a look which clearly said HTFU and stop being such a wimp. She was right. This is how I ended up running 10 km with a broken wrist. My dog is not going to tell me to HTFU! Still makes me smile thinking of this whole incident.

Note – everyone anthropomorphis their fur kids. I probably should have mentioned that at the start of this post.

An explorer / wildlife adventurer – She’s encountered various wild animals on our runs and walks. From porcupines to wild pigs, barking deer, water buffalo, feral cows, spiders and snakes, she’s never been afraid. Just curious. I guess her breed exists to hunt lions so she made do with these in her more urban existence instead.

An alarm clock – as a puppy, her sweet barley breath would greet me each day as I bent down to give her a pat. As an adult, her stinky dog breath and a big sloppy kiss would greet me most mornings, clear eyes full of enthusiasm for the day ahead, and / or busting for the toilet. I would lie in bed quietly, trying not to make a sound, keeping my eyes shut so she would think I was asleep. She was not easily fooled. My breathing must change, hear ears alert to every sound no matter how deeply asleep she appears and she’d be in my bedroom, ready for me to get up to take her out for a run or a walk depending on what day it was.

A reminder that every day is a fresh start and everything can be interesting if you look at it in a different way – greeting each day with a wagging tail, sloppy kisses, a drink, a walk or run. Her journey around the neightbourhood each morning was always done with enthusiasm even though it  had been done countless times. There was always something new of interest and worth spending a little time  to examine more closely. There still is.

A networking professional  – Like a Jatz biscuit, she was a great entertainer. At parties, she would circulate among the guests, the ultimate hostess, even when it wasn’t her party. She clearly had not read the manual that Ridgebacks are aloof with strangers. She met everyone and mingled freely as stories were shared, nibbles passed around and beverages drunk. She would lie down only when everyone sat as though she knew she wouldn’t miss anything then and could listen in on what we all said. The part of the manual she did follow – flat out at my feet or flat out with me doing whatever I’m doing. I usually think about her before I go to any networking event.

A protector – first to the door before someone knocks, there was no-one coming into where she lived or happened to be staying unless she was fine with it. She would hear someone approaching from the backend of the house and still beat me to the door. I always felt safe.

A fitness guru though sometimes her diet could be questionable – enjoying nothing more than a run or walk, anytime of the day or night.  She also liked to swim at the beach, in a river, waterfall or make an attempt to in any sized puddle, before trying to drink it. She loved water and watching her catch waves at the beach is one of the many simple pleasures she added to my life.

A purveyor of fine foods, she could steal cheese from plates wth her friends, was partial to Portuguese chicken, enjoyed peanut butter, pig ears, raw bones, liver treats, spaghetti. She could also keep it real with the occasional leftovers picnickers discarded on the trails where we ran. Kangaroo was her staple dinner and every meal featured Vegemite. She may have been an African breed but she was Australian.

A body slammer – she was 42 kilos of muscle. When she wanted to roll in grass, ensuring the secret smells would be absorbed into every pore of her body, she would throw herself to the ground like a WWF competitor before rolling back and forth, legs akimbo. Perhaps it was an acupressure massage, as she would often roll, stand and throw herself to the ground a couple of times, a massive looking smile spread over her face.

A cleaner – at coffee table height, her wagging tail could clean it in about four wags. She was a good reminder not to keep things out unnecessarily. As a vacuum cleaner, as long as it was food, it would be difficult to find any better. Her breed are also known as counter surfers. Again, a good reminder not to leave anything within dog reach – edible or otherwise. She has forced me to be neat.
My shadow – she was a massive part of my life partly because she was always there, following me when I left a room, greeting me every time I opened the front door, she was always the first thought in any lifestyle decision I made – would this neightbourhood suit her, was there a place to easily go to the toilet, where are the parks, better get home soon since I’ve been out for a while, should I get her a new treat?

She may no longer be with me physically but she has a massive place in my heart, my mind, and my computer files in the form of approximately a billion photos (give or take two).

May she run with her friends forever (as long as she has a chance for a good sleep too).

* Thanks to Supertramp for the title to this post.