Sunday, April 10, 2016


 Our Misha dog passed yesterday morning, after having a very hard time these past months with stairs and other issues.  She had a seizure early in the morning.  Mark looked it up, and she was thirteen years old, and all of our other dogs except Nova are her grandchildren or great-grandchildren.

These were her favorite things, digging, swamp dog, and carrying things around in her mouth she found in the yard.  She was always watchful of Esme, or for that matter, anybody she thought needed close herding and watching.  The first memory I have of meeting Misha was when I visited Mark's farm for the first time, before we were married, and suddenly realized there was a dark dog sitting just inside the treeline following and watching me.  I was frightened at first, but then we were introduced, and she was a constant presence making sure I didn't get lost or into trouble - as if that was her job, which, to her, it was.

Mark said this is perfect dognity.. sometimes you just have to lay down and roll all over and scratch.

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