Over the weekend we had to put our precious little dog, Pip, down. She had a stroke in the middle of the night. My youngest was still awake and woke me to help her. In the past Pip had a couple bouts with what’s called “old dog syndrome.” It’s when dogs get vertigo, usually because they are of advanced age. Since they are dizzy, they tend to lean to one side or the other and walk in a circle, usually getting over it in a few hours or days. To my daughters it looked like a bad case of that affliction, to me it looked much worse, she couldn’t walk, she wasn’t getting over it.

My youngest and I had discussed her imminent demise, so she would be prepared. There was nothing in particular that told me it was time to have that discussion, except that she was 17 years old. My oldest was nervous something would happen while their dad and I were gone, because apparently she had a short episode while we were away over Fourth of July. My youngest had been nervous she would be alone with her.

Pip was completely deaf, and losing her marbles, often mixing up days and nights, indoors and outdoors. She would go out to potty and forget to come in. We often would trek out in the middle of the night to find her forlornly standing by the front gate or in the weeds behind my husband’s shop. But no matter her aches, pains, and confusion, she was always joyful.

She’d get up in the morning (or sometimes night or late afternoon) ready to take on the day. She had a significant limp the vet told us was due to some sort of trauma. Honestly, though I couldn’t think of a particular incident, I wasn’t surprised. She kept all of us on our toes with her antics. When she was just a little ball of fluffy puppy, she leapt from our car upon arriving at Grandma’s house and launched herself over a 12 foot seawall. Fortunately, the tide was out and when we looked over the edge, she had literally hit the ground running.

She was also very concerned about her people. If we separated at the beach she’d race from one to the other of us making sure we were all still accounted for. She wriggled her way out of a doggy seatbelt in the RV, jumped out the cab window and found her way into the store we’d gone into. She jumped out a window when I got out of the car at a ferry dock to go to the bathroom. She raced up and down the lanes, dodging cars, and the police and their dogs who were trying to catch her, not stopping until she’d found me. She jumped out of the cab of the RV after my husband dropped my youngest and I off at the entrance of Costco and he went on to get gas. A friendly passerby caught her as she raced across the parking lot.

I know dogs don’t have nine lives, but she tested God on that. She attacked a pit bull on a leash in front of our house in an attempt to protect us from the thugs of the dog world. She went on her last adventure a couple weeks ago when she wandered out of the yard. I was trying so diligently to close one set of gates and forgot the other. She always seemed to be on the wrong side of the gate or door, never happy to be alone.

We were very blessed to have all been home when it happened. We took her to the Affordable Animal Emergency Clinic in Auburn, where they showed compassion and kindness as they walked us through the costs and options. As we gathered round her, she gently fell asleep, finally to rest. Our hearts are broken, as if joy has left the building.

Gretchen Leigh is a stay-at-home mom who lives in Covington. You can read more of her writing on her website livingwithgleigh.com, or follow her on Facebook at “Living with Gleigh by Gretchen Leigh. Her column is always available at maplevalleyreporter.com under the Life section.