Yesterday,
we had to euthanize our Shetland Sheepdog, Duncan. He was two months away from his 15th
birthday. We had known for about the
past year that he was nearing the end.
He was no longer able to walk with the stride that Banu early on thought
of as “royal.” When we wanted to talk
about him without getting his attention, we would use the third person, as in “the
dog,” “the Sheltie,” or, going back to the way he would walk, “the prince.” Finally, on Sunday night, he lost the ability
to walk at all.
The top
photo is one I have called “Handsome Man Duncan.” This is from our time in Jamestown.
The next
three are from his time as a puppy, when we lived in Nebraska. The top one shows him gazing into space.
Here he is, abandoning his leash
and playing some nighttime basketball on the half-court behind our house.
Finally, a sleepy puppy is yawning at Banu,
telling her it is bedtime!
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