My Dearest Poshie


Poshie died last November.  Today is the first time that I wrote down the date of her death, and it surprised me to see 11/11/11.  I suppose some people would consider that a very memorable date - perhaps a lucky day.   I only know that it is the day that my doggie died.

  It’s March 9, 2012.  This is the first time I can write about Posh.  It has taken that long for me to be able to think about it without completely falling apart.  I was dreading the day someone would ask about her.  Someone who came to see a recent litter of puppies said, "I think your Poshie dog is the most beautiful one".  I just nodded.  I couldn't tell them them she was no longer here with us.  But, I knew, one day, I would have to accept her passing.

I have laid to rest fourteen dogs in my life.  I had only owned Basil for a few months when, at 14 months old, he presented with a myriad of symptoms and passed away after a week-long stay in isolation at the vet’s office while they tried to figure out why he was so sick.  An autopsy confirmed he had meningitis.   Danny contracted a fungal infection (blastomycosis) at the very young age of 5 years old.   When Jaye died at eight, I felt like he was in his prime and it took a good long while before I could say his name without getting choked up.  But, Jaye’s cancer and Basil’s and Danny’s infections gave me time to consider their mortality, if even for a week or so before we lost them.  And, while it still hurt so badly to say good-bye, it was nothing like dealing with Poshie’s passing.

In all the years that I have shared with dogs, I have never had one die from a traumatic event, an accident, a possibly preventable act.  Young or old, my dogs all had left me via “natural causes” until November 11, 2011 when a perfect little angel was stolen from me and I couldn’t do anything to get her back.  She was only three years old.  She was a jewel among dogs.  She was precious and sweet and kind and loving.  She was beautiful, precocious, tender and light hearted.  Poshie was all that.  She was a treasure.  She was mine.  I was hers.  I was broken for a few months while I tried to reconcile the situation, the reality that she was gone forever. 


 I love you, my Posh-a-lina girl. 

5/18/08 – 11/11/11







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