On Wednesday night my family’s dog was killed by a deer. It’s hard to describe Lucky other than to say that she definitely wasn’t very lucky but she had spunk and personality.
Lucky was a runt Boston Terrier born in a litter of five puppies. Even though she was the smallest, she was always top dog, even bossing around Labs and Dobermans when she once stayed at a kennel. She loved to play hockey, chase basketballs, and attack inner tubes. As a puppy, she was so fast that it took me, both my siblings, my mum and a basketball to catch her in my parent’s backyard.
Unfortunately, Lucky developed cataracts at the age of four. Since Boston Terriers are supposed to life 12+ years, we had her cataracts removed. Ironically, in the next month Lucky was playing at the cottage on Vancouver Island and ran into a dead bush, wrecking both eyes and causing both retinas to detach. We rushed home and my parent’s drove to Saskatoon to get her to an animal eye specialist as the specialist is Calgary was away. They were unable to save her vision but saved her eyes.
Despite not having eyesight, Lucky still loved to play fetch, play basketball, sniff through the grass and run around. My brother used to have something called cheese races, where he would put Lucky in her kennel, spread chunks of cheese all around the house and then time how long it took for her to find all of the cheese.
Lucky only really started to slow down when she began to lose her hearing about two years ago. Being without sight or much hearing is difficult, but she still loved to play with the basketball (despite it being larger than her), mooch bananas and greet people when they got home.
As I mentioned previously, Lucky loved to sniff around in the grass at the cabin. She could do it for hours and be content. Unfortunately on Wednesday, as she was sniffing around, she startled a deer and the deer trampled her. When my mum and sister found her, she was barely alive. They tried cleaning her off but she died shortly thereafter while my mum was on the phone with me.
We’re all really sad and shocked by how quickly things happened. She was almost 13 years old, so we keep telling ourselves that “maybe it’s better this way as we didn’t have to watch her slowly descent into poor health or have to put her down” and that “she died doing what she loved and looked very peaceful with her ears up,” but that doesn’t make it any easier.
Even though it’s only been a couple of days, it still is really weird. My parent’s house seems so empty and I’m still in denial as she couldn’t possibly be gone and I expect her to come and nance for me next time I’m over there.
Have you ever lost a pet? How did you deal with it?