Our Silah

Silah doesn’t bother much with the rabbits anymore. She sees them in the yard and bounds slowly after them, until they disappear under a fence or into a hedge. She used to race after them but those days are gone. Now the two animals that are the target of her rage are squirrels and cats. But she’s never been in the yard with one or the other, only seen them from the back deck. That’s enough, though, for her to yell at them to tell them who’s boss.

Exactly one year ago I wrote about Silah aging. And she is now officially our oldest dog ever at almost eleven years. Of the five dogs we’ve had, none have lived past ten years old.

Our first dog, Tsuga (German shepherd/Australian shepherd cross), died of lymphoma at age seven, and our second dog, Jasper (flat-coated retriever), died eight months earlier from hemangiosarcoma (a type of cancer), at the age of four. It was hard to lose them so close together, and to not get to share their lives into old age.

Not long after Tsuga died, we got Cedar (flat-coated retriever). She was a character. She was always on, always ready to go, throwing herself with abandon into everything. She would fetch, swim, run, and play with toys like a maniac. We thought she’d burn bright and short. When we babysat a family of three flatcoats while their owners were in the UK, the owners wondered what we’d done to their dogs because they were so tired for a week after we’d been there. It was all because of Cedar. She had to go for many walks a day to burn off excess energy, so the other dogs came with us even though they were only used to two walks a day. Cedar also didn’t turn off in the house, pestering the other dogs to play with her.

When we got our third flat-coated retriever, Cosmo, Cedar was one and a half. We went to pick him up on Vancouver Island, and she tired out every single one of the breeder’s dogs and was still racing around the yard while we did the paperwork. We took Cosmo to a retriever hunt test so he could wander around in a new environment, and Cedar got so excited that she started hyperventilating and had to be doused with water to calm her down (it was a hot day).

She and Cosmo shared many adventures. They lived in four different places: Lethbridge, my mother-in-law’s house in Victoria, Black Creek, and then here in Cobble Hill. In fact, we ended up buying this house for the two of them, because it had such a big yard for them to play in. And did they ever play—chasing toys, chasing each other, chasing rabbits. Cosmo was a loving ball of fur, who liked to put your forearm in his mouth to say hello. He was the worst for chasing rabbits, and he almost caught one once—I had to call him off it.

Cedar and Cosmo were Silah’s family; she arrived last and has been here her whole life. Cedar was so patient with pesty puppy Silah, while Cosmo was less forgiving, always having to remind her who was the boss.

Cosmo died at eight years old, due to a ruptured tumour. Cedar lasted until she was ten, felled by multiple tumours.

Now we just have Silah, who will be eleven in a few weeks. Despite being down to one dog, we still have a lot of dog hair around the house. She’s definitely a shedding shepherd! In my post a year ago I mentioned that she needed company to go up the stairs from the basement. Now she’s progressed to not going up at all. We have to take her around the outside of the house to get her upstairs. The vet says her joints are fantastic, especially for a shepherd of her age, so it must be a mental thing. She doesn’t have a lot of ailments, except for being prone to UTIs, which could also be an age thing.

She’s easing into old age, slowly getting whiter and slower. She doesn’t run around like she used to, doing laps around the large bedrock lump we have in our outer yard. She’s not a demonstrative dog like the flatcoats were—she has more of a quiet dignity about her. She’s a bit aloof, but likes to snuggle in bed. Only on her own terms, of course.

We wonder sometimes if she remembers her flatcoated retriever buddies. If she misses them. She struggled after Cedar died; she grieved for months afterwards. Now that it’s just her, though, she’s glommed onto her humans quite heavily and doesn’t like to be away from us.

We plan to have a real celebration for her eleventh birthday this month, complete with pupcakes and steak. She’ll only get a bit, of course, but she deserves it. She’s our only dog who’s lived in one place her whole, long life. It will sure be quiet when she goes. As long as she goes on her own terms. Is that too much to ask?