The first time I saw Sandy (Sandy Sue as we would come to call her) it was looking between the slats of the privacy fence that separated my aunt Barbara's home in Sheridan, Indiana and her next door neighbor's property. My aunt asked if the dog next door was a golden retriever. Though my view was partially restricted, I surmised she probably had some golden genes but she certainly wasn't full blooded. Her profile gave her the appearance of a golden retriever but head on she looked like she was probably mixed with a collie.
Sandy had gotten my aunt's attention by her constant barking and whining. She was not a happy dog. Her owners apparently didn't care for her as they kept her on a short chain connected to an igloo shaped dog house. They threw food and water out for her but never showed her affection or gave her freedom to exercise her legs. Barbara was saddened by Sandy's plight.
Sandy was aware of my aunt's 2 dogs and the good life they enjoyed on the opposite side of the fence and time and again she would break free of her chain and journey over to my aunt's house where she could enjoy some companionship. Reluctantly, Barbara would have to return her to her owners.
Barbara asked me on a couple of occasions if Sandy broke free and visited her if I would be willing to smuggle her away to live with me. My heart went out to Sandy but at the time, we couldn't possibly bring her to our home to live. Our beloved, golden retriever, Tristan had been recently diagnosed with cancer and we were working hard helping him through the final months of his life. We had just brought Noah, a puppy golden retriever who had been rescued from an interstate highway, into our home, and we still had our aging Lhasa Apso, Jasmine living with us. It just wasn't conceivable.
The following spring, my aunt called me enquiring if I might be interested in taking Sandy in. Her neighbors were preparing to move away and she was seriously concerned they were going to "shoot Sandy in the head" before they left. Barbara asked if she released Sandy and stole her away would I be willing to take her. Tristan had passed away during the winter and we were in a better position to welcome another dog into the family. I told Barbara not to steal Sandy, but to go to her neighbors and ask them for the dog. I figured if they were planning to do away with her anyway they should be willing to give her to their neighbor. If nothing else they might figure they wouldn't have to waste the ammunition.
Barbara promptly requested Sandy of her neighbors. Barbara insisted she have Sandy checked out by her veterinarian before turning her over to me. It cost her a bundle. Sandy had heart worm. I offered to pay the expense for her cure but Barbara wouldn't hear of it and she kept Sandy isolated at her house while she was treated. When Sandy was cleared by the vet, Barbara told me to come and pick her up.
Sandy recovering at my Aunt Barbara's home
Sandy was approximately 2 years old when she came to live with us. Our biggest concern was how Noah would respond. He was now the alpha dog after he had been brought along by Tristan. We were unable to take him to meet her on neutral ground so Sandy was going to be introduced on his turf. We were pleasantly surprised to find he got along well with her. I'm sure much of this was due to Sandy's sweet non threatening disposition.
Sandy quickly integrated into our family. From day one, Sandy was always sweet and gentle. She never demanded anything from us, and appeared to genuinely appreciate affection, safety and stability. She rarely barked as she had at her former home and only raised a fuss when it was meant as a warning or declaration. Sandy quickly adapted to the comforts of indoor life and it was evident she enjoyed her creature comforts.
One habit Sandy brought with her was wanderlust. She no longer wandered off for escape but for adventure. On more than one occasion we found Sandy missing from the back yard. We couldn't figure out how she was getting out. Later we would discover her climbing over (not leaping) the 3 foot fence bordering our back yard. Most of the time, she was found nearby and she happily returned when called. It didn't take long before Noah learned from Sandy's wanderings and began leaping the fence and following her lead outside our property.
Panic was the emotion our family felt one day the following winter when both dogs went missing. We spent much of the day searching for Noah and Sandy. We looked everywhere we had previously found them on their jaunts with no luck. Noah finally showed up at the house but Sandy was still missing. A phone call later that day revealed her whereabouts. A Good Samaritan in the neighborhood adjacent to ours had taken Sandy into his garage as he was concerned about her in the wintery elements. He had eventually found her name and our phone number on her caller. That spring, (particularly after Noah began jumping the fence to chase passerbies) we put up a new 6 foot fence.
The word I would associate most with Sandy is Contentment. Nothing seemed to upset her. She was pretty independent. Noah acts as if he never gets attention. He insists people see what he's up to and has to be cautioned not to overwhelm and pester people. If Sandy got attention, she accepted it but if she didn't get the attention Noah got, that was OK with her too. She had her moments of playfulness but for the most part she was content with just observing Noah chase a tennis ball or wrestle with a tug toy. In a sense, she became kind of sedentary. Where Noah doesn't like other dogs, Sandy typically enjoyed meeting and interacting with other dogs. Noah has always been and insists on being the alpha dog since Tristan died. Sandy was perfectly content with Noah being "Top Dog". Sandy was the perfect counterbalance to Noah's rambunctiousness.
Sandy in one of her more playful moments
Over the last few years, It appeared Sandy's hips were beginning to bother her. We probably spent a fortune on glucosamine and later Rymadol to keep her from becoming uncomfortable. A little over a year ago it was becoming apparent Sandy's spine was degenerating. She was having some difficulty with walking distance and then her gait began to become awkward. This past winter we had to support her hind quarters when she walked to keep her upright. By spring we had to lift her back end up off the ground and set her on all fours for her to move a short distance, and finally this summer she could no longer stand unaided nevertheless walk. Of late, we began carrying her outside and supporting her while she did her business. She sometimes even needed help with repositioning when she became uncomfortable. Eventually she became unable to control her bowels and we had to massage her bladder to stimulate her urination. Throughout it all she appeared to be content with her life. She still enjoyed a few simple pleasures. She enjoyed eating, and sitting outside and watching the goings on of the neighborhood. She liked being talked to and petted but I imagine being dependent for most of her basic functions was becoming a burden.
A typical Sandy pose from a year ago
Last Friday, Sandy had a bout with diarrhea which lasted most of the weekend, necessitating her spending the majority of the time outdoors. I thank the Lord for providing nice weather. After multiple cleanups and a diet adjustment, by Sunday, her diarrhea had cleared but we noticed she had developed an open sore on her right flank. Because of the time she spent outside she had been exposed to flies and maggots had infested the sore. Though maggots in wounds is actually a good debriding method, we couldn't stand maggots in the house, so I spent much of Sunday evening picking maggots from the wound and combing them from her fur.
Judy called Dr. Keifer, our vet, Monday morning to help us determine what we should do. (We had Dr. Keifer see her a few weeks ago and he told us then she was getting near the point we should consider putting her down.) He suggested if Sandy was becoming debilitated to the point where she was developing sores; the time to let her go had come. I left work early yesterday, and Judy and I took her in and sat by her side comforting her as Sandy's spirit left her worn out body. I must have cried a thousand tears and as I write this, my throat cramps as I choke back more tears. When her ashes are returned to us, we will place them in an appropriate spot in our back yard and have a family service for her and we will all cry again.
Sandy lived just a few months shy of 12 years. Her first 1.5 to 2 years were under difficult circumstances as she was mistreated and she barely survived. It would have been understandable if she would have been a difficult dog the rest of her life but instead she took everything in stride and found life enjoyable. She wasn't skittish and never showed an iota of meanness. She was always sweet and gentle.
Goodbye, I'll never forget you, my old girl, Sandy Sue.
