And With Just A Whisper She Was Gone
Grace, Amazing Grace, her name certainly suited her. She and her sister, Angel, came to our farm when they were just 10-weeks-old. That was 12 years ago.
And now Grace is gone. She left today. The last of the “old guard” of Great Pyrenees still watching, loving, guarding her beloved sheep. Unable to stand for long on her own 4 paws she still, still had to be with her charges. They were her family. Her friends. Her world.
Unlike some other breeds of Livestock Guard Dogs, Great Pyrenees want — need — a close bond with their flock or herd or whatever they are given to guard. Gracie had that.
She was the kindest, gentle soul I had ever seen in a Pyrenees. She was like a whisper — a mere ghost of a dog. A shy, gentle spirit whose gentleness balanced out perfectly her sister, Angel’s, more boisterous attitude.
Though Pyrenees are naturally gentle until there is a perceived threat to their charges, Gracie was extra gentle hiding in the shadow of her sister. Wherever you saw one you saw the other and Gracie always stood just behind her sister.
Until Angel died 2 years ago after a bout with cancer. I knew it would be such an adjustment for Grace to be without Angel. I wondered how Grace would cope. Would she grieve herself to death? Would this whisper of a girl be silenced?
She was not. Instead, she stepped into line next to our lead dog, Molly (who had trained her as a pup). Until Molly left at the very old age of 14. Certainly Grace would not be able to stay long. Alone. I assumed. I did not want her to have to do so.
Thankfully I was able to find a 5-year-old female rescue working Pyrenees, Duchess, as a companion for Gracie and that helped bolster her confidence. They became fast friends but Grace did not step into Duchess’ shadow as I’d assumed she would. Instead, they were co-workers in the field.
And so they have lived and worked together, Grace and Duchess until today. Until today.
I knew Grace had been failing, slowly, ever so slowly. Until I’d almost gotten used to her failing and still being here. A long, slow goodbye with no sad ending.
But that can never be. Everyone must leave. So I told Gracie last night she could leave us. I could feel it was almost time. I scratched both ears deep down like she loved and lifted her head up to look into her eyes. As always, she dropped her full gaze and looked downward. But she wagged her tail and leaned into me telling me she loved me and I hugged her and told her what a good girl she was.
She would not eat. Even her favorite food. I coaxed her. Put it to her mouth. She closed her eyes and went to sleep. But not a forever sleep. Not yet.
This morning she refused to eat again and I scratched both ears deep down like she loved and lifted her head up to look into her eyes. This time she did not drop her gaze and look downward. As our eyes met she asked me to let her go.
My eyes pleaded back, “I can’t let you go, please don’t ask this of me”. Her eyes said, “Please don’t ask me to stay any longer. I’ve stayed this long for you already”.
When the vet came I whispered, “I love you Gracie, you’re a good girl”. And with just a whisper she was gone. Twelve years of love wrapped up into 1 tiny whisper.
Never to be forgotten. Never to be forgotten.
Jackie Deems copyright 2019
My rescue book is now available on Amazon. All royalties support the precious rescues on our no-kill farm.