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A Little Bit About Clancy

Breed: Shepherd Mix

Gender: Female

Favorite Toy: Tennis balls

Favorite Treat: Ice cream

Best Trick: Escape artist

Favorite Game: Chasing tennis balls

Favorite Pastime: Hiking

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Every pet owner feels that their animal is unforgettable, and in Clancy’s case this is the literal truth. I rescued her from a pound in November of 1998- she had been abandoned there at the age of 5 by a family who was moving from the area. When first I met her she was scrawny, having lost a lot of weight during her confinement. She made quite an impression on me though. As I walked up and down the rows of pens, she kept her intelligent eyes honed in on me. Actually, they were burning through me. Not in a mean or aggressive sense; rather in an inquisitive way, like she was thinking "I wonder if he'll throw a tennis ball for me?" As I would approach her cage, her ears and tail would perk up, and she would twirl around madly. I asked if I could see her up close, and a worker took her from the cage. We went for a short walk, and then played with a tennis ball. I was struck by how absorbed she was with my every movement and sound- every time I spoke to her, she tilted her head to the side, as though she really understood what I was saying to her. The connection was so strong, that I adopted her on the spot. On the long ride home she sat primly in the front seat, having established herself there as soon as I opened the door, listening in her polite way as I told her about myself, and all the things we would do together. I told her we were going to go on a lot of hikes, and I swear she cocked her head to the right, and her ears pricked up like radar dishes. I decided to stop at a park so she could get a little exercise after having spent so much time in the pound. She jumped out of the car, gave a few happy twirls, and we set off on the first of the many miles we would travel together.

Much has been written about the nobility of dogs, their faithfulness and their dedication. After that first walk, I think Clancy vowed to herself that she would never let me out of her sight. I learned early on that whenever I left the house I would have to make sure that I closed all the windows, or else she would tear the screens and go looking for me. Once she realized she was locked in, she would raid the refrigerator. Ketchup was her favorite, although sometimes she would fix herself a breakfast of a couple raw eggs; once I found an empty container of butter hidden under an end table; unfortunately for her, she forgot to hide the lid, and her treachery was revealed. When I got home from wherever I was, I would soon hear the sound of her jumping off of my bed, and then her galloping feet as she ran towards me. I’d spend the next couple of minutes being slobbered to death, and then she would nudge her head towards the cabinets where I hid her treats.

She was a master of non-verbal communication in that way, because I think she really had a lot of things to say. She was that bright. She really did understand a lot of what I was saying. “Go get the tennis ball Clancy,” I’d call out. When she returned with it, I’d tell her “No, I want the baseball.” And she would rummage around the house until she found it. Her communication skills went far beyond knowing what I was saying to her. If I was feeling sad or lonely, she knew it, and would come over and put her head on my lap and sigh. She worried about me.

She lived a good life. We spent countless hours hiking, playing in the yard, or just sitting together quietly. Every so often i would take her out for some vanilla ice cream. She would lick furiously at the icy treat for a minute, and then stop, her eyes widening with alarm as the brain freeze set in. She also loved chasing after tennis balls. If I couldn't play with her, she would hold the ball in her mouth, and with a flip of her head send it hurtling across the room for her to chase. Alternatively, she would lay on her back with the ball in her mouth, then use her paws to lift it and then drop it back into her mouth. This would go on until I dropped whatever I was doing to go play with her.

Hiking was by far her favorite thing to do, probably because she knew how impressive she looked while doing it. It’s no exaggeration for me to say that people with “real purebred hunting dogs” would look at her enviously, and tell me “that’s one hell of a dog you got there” as she strode confidently down a trail, pausing to direct that piercing gaze at some distant quarry, muscles tensing, her front paw poised, ready to pounce. She would literally hop off of the trail, sailing over bushes and then take off like a missile; her agility and speed would leave those of us watching in stunned silence. Every few minutes her head would pop out of a bush with eyes twinkling to make sure I was keeping up, and then she would go bounding back into the brush.

Even when she grew old and was not able to go hiking as much as she would have liked, it was never very hard for me to remember her flying through the woods chasing squirrels or rabbits. As the years went by her snout turned gray and her hearing began to fail. She developed arthritis, and we began to spend more time sitting quietly together, and less time outside. She would intently track any tennis ball I threw, but did not give chase as often. By early 2009 she was only able to go outside for short periods of time to relieve herself. Despite her weakened state, she maintained both her dignity and her interest in what was going on around her. The light never left her eyes.

On August 21st, 2009, Clancy was unable to walk and was experiencing tremendous respiratory distress. A trip to the vet revealed that Clancy had congestive heart failure and a mass in her abdomen that was most likely cancer. Clancy had done so much during her life to alleviate my suffering; it was now my turn to return the favor. I took her home briefly, brushed and petted her for a few hours, and then took her to her favorite park, the same one we had walked through together on the day I adopted her. I fed her one last vanilla sundae from McDonalds, and scratched her head as we listened to a thunderstorm rage outside the car. With dread, I checked the clock every few minutes as her 5:15 appointment grew closer.

Once we arrived at the vet I insisted upon being placed in a room immediately. She lay on the floor wrapped in her favorite blanket, and I continued to pet her and told her what a good friend she had been to me all these years. I told her other things too, things that were and always will be only for her to hear. Then I put my head on her and sighed.

The vet entered the room, and as they repositioned her she lost sight of me. She abruptly sat up in a panic, struggling, seeking me out. "Daddy's right here" I whispered, as I moved back into her line of sight. She relaxed instantly, laying her frail head back down. I crouched by her head, so I could stare into her eyes and scratch behind her ears as the vet made the preparations. Clancy's now weary eyes focused on me, and I could see that all the fight was gone from her. I leaned in close to her nearly deaf ears and whispered "Well done, good girl; I never knew love like I knew it from you." The injections began, and within seconds her breathing slowed, and her mouth, previously clenched in pain, opened ever so slightly. Her tired tongue found my face, and her last gift to me was one of her patented Clancy kisses; the kind that sends the meek running for a wash basin with their dripping faces. "Start thinking of green meadows, Clancy," intoned the vet gently. "One with plenty of fat rabbits and slow squirrels" I added. I continued gently rubbing the bridge of her nose. Her eyes never left mine. The vet checked for heart sounds. "She's gone," I was told.

" I know."

After petting my best friend for a few more minutes, I knew it was time to go; eleven wonderful years had just ended with one awful day. Clutching her collar, I walked out into a driving rain, and a world that would hereafter be a little less fun, a little less joyful, and little less full of love for me.
 

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