This weekend just gone, my darling dog made the journey to Rainbow Bridge. She was very old (she would've been 16 in December) and she had finally exhausted the puppy spirit that she had always possessed. Every visit, except for the last one, I could encourage her to bark and jump around and wag her tail. Unfortunately on the last one, she just didn't have it left in her.
She lived a lovely life on the farm with my parents and various cats and dogs, and even though she never lived with me in the city (I could never have done that to her - she loved the farm life too much), she never, ever, forgot that I belonged to her.
I remember my Mum commenting on her weird behaviour on the days I was due to come home from Perth when she was only a few years old. She would run around barking and being a total peanut. Until I got home. Even when she was older and would happily obey my Dad, when I was there, his word meant very little :)
I can still remember the day that I brought her home. Dad had taken me to look at a litter of puppies, of which there were two left. His words were along the lines of "now don't go falling for the first one you see". Needless to say he went all gooey the minute she climbed on him. She climbed all over him in the car on the way home too. And I have never known a puppy since, to be able to escape from a tall washing machine box without tipping it over. That was her bed for the first few nights and we never did work out how she escaped.
So goodbye my beautiful Darcy. I will never, ever forget you and all the memories you helped to create.