I vividly remember the day I met Quisha, almost 20 years ago. She was three years old and beautiful. She was full of energy, but had a slight little patch of gray hair right on the top of her head, perhaps a testimony to the struggles she had already been through.
It was barely a month since I lost the dearest and the closest companion of my life. Because her death was sudden it was all that much more difficult. It was the greatest wounding my heart had ever known. When I told my chiropractor I had lost my daughter, he was at first sympathetic. But when he learned she was a dog, he scoffed. I never went back to see him again. But that ‘s another story escort geneva.
Quisha was to be a new beginning for me. Some said I should wait awhile before getting another dog. I somehow knew that for me it was best to do it quickly.
Quisha had been a show dog and a champion in conformation, and she had all the papers to prove it. She was the most beautiful Sheltie I’d ever seen. But after having three C- sections, the breeder felt it wasn’t right to ask her to go through that again. It was time for her to be spayed, thus ending her career.
Quisha and I bonded instantly. When we left, she jumped right into the passenger seat of the car like she knew she was mine and have done it before. In fact, she was primarily a kennel dog and was only occasionally allowed in the house with her grandmother.
The trip home took an hour and I stopped at McDonald’s for a hamburger and fries. I was used to sharing a bite or two of what I ate with my dog (not that I feed them a lot of junk food), so I almost absently gave Quisha a french fry to eat. To my total surprise, she didn’t know what to do with it. She checked it out cautiously and then gingerly ate it. But that was the beginning of her love affair with French fries — and most all kinds of food. She was never timid with them again or with or any other food she could convince me to give her. she was definitely a food-motivated dog. About the only thing I ever found she wouldn’t eat was lemons, and she was and excited about eating bananas, although she would play around with a bite, usually spitting it out in the end.
Quisha was not only beautiful, but also smart. She already knew how to sit, that was about all. Conformation dogs don’t need to know a lot of commands. Even walking on a leash, so familiar to them, is not your normal “heel.” But Quisha learned quickly. She even qualify at the dog show in obedience. But I didn’t sense she particularly loved the dog-show world and it’s an expensive hobby, so we did not continue.
Quisha and I went everywhere together. To the store, to work, to church. Once she was even allowed to come in and have a seat at the new year service at church. Unless the weather was too hot or too cold and she’d have to wait in the car a long time, if I went she went. We were inseparable you can imagine the bond and companionship we built together! There were difficult times and good times, but we shared them altogether. She was my daughter number two.
She was nearly 16 years old and I knew we were living on bonus time. Anything over 14 years is a good life span for a Sheltie. She had had an incurable cough for awhile now and a couple of times had what seemed to be and mini stroke, but otherwise she was doing pretty well. She still climbed the stairs each evening to the bedroom, though sometimes I carried her. But one late afternoon she started getting wobbly on her feet and walked over to me and collapsed in my arms. I called a friend to take us to the all-night vet clinic. The veterinary told me what I somehow already knew nut certainly didn’t want to hear. There was nothing that could be done to save her. After all, she was pretty old. I held her close in my arms as the Dr. gave her the final injection. She went limp and she was without pain and at peace. Sadly I knew how it felt from past experience. What a lonely, dark cloud of emptiness enveloped me. She had been a wonderful, almost perfect, companion all those years. But now that chapter of my life was over.
It wasn’t quite as hard as when I lost my first girl. I carried Quisha home and buried her in the backyard. A few weeks later, as Spring emerged, I planted flowers on her grave.
For me, I knew I wanted a new dog sooner than later. The end of one of life’s chapters is also the beginning of a new one. It was Spring! I’ll never forget Quisha, and I’ll never quit morning her. I almost cried as I memorialize her here years later. But life goes on and I knew it would be better with a companion instead of alone. My new mate was my first puppy and my first boy. But that begins a whole new wonderful story.