Angua, RIP

Today we laid our dog, Angua, to rest.  She has been with us for 14 years. We picked her up at the pound.  Angie, as we called her, was sitting patiently in a cage; the card in front said that she was impossible to restrain and was not housebroken. She was fully-grown, so she was at least 2 years old by then.    Perhaps because of her repose, my son Adam chose her.  She was named after Corporal Angua in the Discworld series,  a werewolf. 

We had an inauspicious beginning.  On the way home, she jumped out of an open window in the car.  We scrambled to catch her.  When we got her home, she immediately ran upstairs to hide.  However, once she became comfortable with us, we learned that she was in fact housebroken and really did like staying indoors.
We soon developed a routine, one that revolved around the afternoon walk in the park.  She was insistent that we take her there everyday, walking one to two miles each time.  We missed maybe a dozen days in those fourteen years, mostly because of my infirmities.  She would have been a good postman: she liked walking in all kinds of weather, although a heavy rain tended to cut the walk shorter.

She was a princess.  When we arrived at the lake in the park, she would gently enter the water and lay down.  I never did see her swim.  Perhaps she didn't know how, but I always imagined she felt the dog paddle was beneath her.

After Adam went to college, she became my constant companion and confidante.  She'd listen to my complaints and soothe my soul.  She never broke a confidence. She is my friend.  She has made me a better person.  I'm going to miss her.