End of the Hunt

Saturday we said goodbye to our dog, Artie. I want to tell you her story, which is all too short. 

Artie came to live with us some months after Leo died. We found her through a local rescue; she and several of her siblings were being fostered. All of them were sweet little puppies, but Artie was the one that really clicked with us. 

When we brought her home, she immediately made friends with Si and Sephi. Sephi was an old dog by this point, but she perked up a bit and licked the new puppy, and that was nice to see. Si chased and cuddled with her, and the two of them were packmates quickly. 

After Sephi passed, Artie became a good, if firm, big sister to Sandy...

And later, when Si passed, she became elder statesdog at the tender age of not-quite-two, and big sister to Terri. 

 Well, anyway, older sister to Terri. 

Artie showed us her personality right away. She was affectionate, but on her terms. She was playful, but not necessarily interested in fetching or playing tug-of-war. She loved being outside and hunting and smelling for various woodland creatures.

Toad hunt. Well, toad sniff, really

Chipmunk hunt

Sister hunt

Chipmunk hunt, redux

Sunbeam hunt

 

She was headstrong, stubborn, and independent. For all that, though, she knew when she needed help. Her coat wasn't really suited to Ohio winters, so we bought her a sweater:

And she would very patiently wait to have it put on before going out. She was pretty good about signaling what she wanted; she would ring the bell, and if she wanted out, she'd go stand near her crate. If she wanted a snack, she'd go into the kitchen and look at her food. And so on.

Successful sunbeam hunt!

In summer 2020, in addition to everything else that made that year awful, Artie started getting repeated bladder infections and then starting peeing blood. We took her to the doctor, they ran tests, and discovered that she had a mass in her abdomen. They said she might live weeks or maybe months. She lived almost a full year. 

Chipmunk hunt continues

Over the last few months, she started losing weight and getting weaker and slower. She'd have good days, but they got less frequent. She started growing dehydrated as the cancer ate everything she took in, and at the end of last week the vet told us that we had reached the point that further interventions were either going to have to get a lot more aggressive or be pointless. We made the decision to let her go.

We took her to the vet, we gathered around her and told her we loved her, and she refused to lie down. She stood there looking at us, very clearly wondering why we weren't going home and being done with this nonsense. 

I cried for Artie a lot more and a lot harder than I did for my other doggos, because Artie didn't get a fair shake. She was so sweet, she was so active and vivacious, and the cancer just stole her from us. Fuck cancer. 

 

I want to end this on a more positive note, though, so although it's a little macabre: Artie caught a squirrel last week. She was so inordinately proud of herself, and she made every effort to eat the thing whole before I got it away from her. She'd been trying her whole life to catch one, and with her pack's help, she finally managed. 

And then, a few days later, she was gone. Bucket list achieved, I suppose. The hunt was successful.

Artemis, Dog of the Hunt, "Artie," May 2018-June 2021