2018 May June

How Will I Know
When I’ve Owned My Last Aussie?
Teresa Pierce • Renton, Washington
As a young girl, a blue merle with marbled eyes and an undocked tail
followed me home from school (with a bit of coaxing).
Blue became part of me, left indelible paw prints in my
heart. Then, after college, jobs, a marriage and divorce,
again an Aussie rescued me, and me him. I think I shall
never love anyone or anything as much as I loved Roper.
Then, I adopted another rescue, a friend for Roper. Cricket was a
retired Grand Dame of the show world. Later, Roper, Cricket and
I added yet another female, Annie, to make Roper’s harem of girls
complete.
Those were the happiest days of my life. I lived and breathed
for my dogs. Eventually, Cricket passed. It was hard on all of us.
Three dogs had been the perfect number because no one’s ever
left alone.
Losing Roper was heart wrenching, truly the saddest days of
my life. He was the center of my soul. How can a dog mean so
much, the bond be so intense? I could barely breath for a month
afterward it hurt so badly. But, I needed to go on for his mate, my
beautiful sweet Annie. She and I grew quite close to each other.
I told her that she was the last piece of Roper I had. We mourned
Roper’s loss together and were never the same without him.
After Roper’s passing, I left everything as it had been: the
double doghouse, the two dog beds, even two food bowls, although
only Annie remained. I reminded myself of a parent who cannot
bear to dissemble their late child’s bedroom. Through the tears,
I saw Annie was so lonely. So, I brought home Taylor. Since our
Annie’s passing, Taylor and I are now alone. He and I mourned
Annie’s passing together, which felt like losing Roper all over
again. Before she died, Annie taught Taylor "the ways,” the same
ways that Roper and Cricket had taught Annie.
Now, 61-year-old me and 12-year-old Taylor remain. Where
does it stop? Or, should it? The little farm I bought for us all seems
empty, no more goats, Taylor is too old now to hike the trails we
all enjoyed so together. My life will be so very empty without my
Aussie family, so much of my identity. Will I travel? Will people
even recognize me without my pack of friends?
I used to unfold a picture of my dear Roper and set it by the
bed when I traveled for work. Now, their ashes all sit in boxes on
my bed stand. I no longer worry if they’re okay with the Petsitter.
There’ll soon be silence, no “flap-flap” of the dog door announcing
their arrival and departure, no shared shifts patrolling the property
all night, no announcing visitors at the gate. Their only fault is that
they don’t live long enough.
My dogs have each been rescued or re-homed. Some of the
nation’s best breeders have trusted me to love their dogs until
their last breaths and I have, gladly. What did I ever do so right in
my life to have been accepted and loved by these living miracles
called Aussies? Could I ever love a new puppy without it ripping
my heart out over the memories? Who would teach it the ways?
If I got a puppy in a couple of years, I’d be about 75 yrs old when
it passed. I won’t let myself die having left a dog behind. The real
question is, could I go on living without an Aussie?
94 AUSSIE TIMES May-June 2018