[Northkeep] A Lament For A Little Dog

Anawyn at aol.com Anawyn at aol.com
Wed Jan 29 19:16:35 PST 2003

It is with a great deal of sorrow, that I must pass on the news, to those who
knew her, that our little dog, Winnie, the canine Duchess of Pembroke, has
departed the mortal coil as of this morning. We did not expect it, all
indications were for her full recovery, but her gall bladder apparently
burst, following surgery, and the vet was not able to resuscitate her.
All of us know in our hearts that, when we are given those little furry
bundles to love and have stewardship over, there will come a day when we will
have to face their departure, as well. But of course, nothing ever prepares
us for that event when it does happen.
Winnie just loved the SCA events at our house. As a herding breed, I guess it
gave her simple pleasure to have control of large "flocks" of people. She
loved kids, loved to chase squirrels, and loved to play ball. She liked for
life to have a definite routine. We did not realize how much of our day
revolved around "dog moments," until she was gone.
Mornings began the same way: sitting outside the tub while Steve took his
shower, insisting on a petting session when he got out, waiting while I fed
the parrots to get the little "biskets" in the parrot food mix that they
never eat, but she sure would! Evenings found her watching Jeopardy with Dad,
and moving to the kitchen for dinner as soon as the downbeat to the Jeopardy
closing melody started, all very regulated - very British. After dinner, she
would wait for me to come home, sitting on the patio, peering out of the
wrought iron with those bright brown eyes,waiting...and she would wait -
cold, hot, rain - did not matter. She would not come in until I was home.
I must confess I waited until it was dark tonight to come home at last. I
could not bear the thought of not seeing that furry, patient little face with
eyes trained upon the street, awaiting my return. And so, I ran errands,
until darkness covered what was not there.
It seemed an odd coincidence, today my "Forgotten English" desk calendar had
as its word today: "Fice" or "Phyce", which is an antiquated term for a small
pet dog. It is apparently a remnant of old English "foisting" or "foisty",
which was a spoiled lap dog. Well, I suppose she was nothing, if not
"foisty," and we are all broken hearted at not having her in our lives any

Oh, I hope there is an angel who waits
to gather little dogs at heaven's shore,
For our little fice, made of sugar and spice,
comes to our door no more.

The blinding tears are falling fast
as we think of our lost pearl,
our memories now will be the shrine
to a dear little bright eyed girl


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