The Goodwill Ambassador of Dogs

Quissu, which is Catalonian for "puppy," wasn't the first pet that I've had die during my lifetime, but she was my first dog. Being part of a "cat family" I grew up quite afraid of dogs. I'd been knocked over by an overzealous dog when I was much younger and it scared me quite a bit. Dogs were not a part of my growing up experience - and I was happy to keep it that way.

In 1999, I met Quissu. While she was a very energetic dog, an 8-year-old black Siberian Husky with beautiful blue eyes, she was also the "goodwill ambassador of dogs"--a rarity for huskies, I now know. She charmed me with the way she'd kiss you or the way she behaved with the cat. She made me laugh with her quizzical expressions and her boundless energy to chase squirrels--that she could never catch. She could shift her eyebrows and work her "puppy dog eyes" like none other.

And she didn't just have that effect on me. My entire "cat family" soon came to know and love Quissu as well. Although she was mischievous (she once got "arrested" by the city police for being in the park a half-mile from my house exploring all by herself and meeting new people after jumping over the fence), she won all of our hearts.

Unfortunately, as she grew older, the genetics of being a pure-bred dog caught up with her. She developed a localized cancer on her front left paw that kept returning. After having the tumor removed four times, at the suggestion of the vet I finally had her leg amputated. At 13, she had to learn how to walk all over again, with only three legs. She did quite well, although I had to buy a number of throw rugs for the house as she now slid around on my hardwood floors.

As she aged, her health began to deteriorate even faster. Late last year, she developed idiopathic old dog vestibular disease: basically, she was dizzy and the vets didn't know why. She couldn't stand because she couldn't figure out which way was up. Luckily, it turned out to be short-term as it lasted only a week.

Quissu just died about a month ago. While it was definitely expected, I hadn't realized how much she meant to me.

Quissu's ashes are now buried under a St. Francis of Assisi statue in my backyard. It carries on my family's tradition: we've always asked St. Francis to look over our animals, even after their death.

My friends, family and especially my vet - Abri Veterinary Hospital - were all very helpful to me. My mother left work to come be with me for a while and cried with me. My father helped me take Quissu's body to the vet for cremation. My vet encouraged me to cry when I called; I hadn't known what to do with her body. "We've got all the time in the world, honey. Take your time," they said.

I received cards from my family and my sister came into town to stay with me. She helped me decide what to do with Quissu's stuff and how to share the news with someone who loved her deeply. I also received a very special card from the vet: because of Quissu's illness over the years, their staff had all come to know her quite well. The entire staff had signed the card, complete with kind memories of Quissu in it.

Dear Quissu, rest in peace. Yours was a long, wonderful life filled with love and joy. I know you're now being the Goodwill Ambassador of Dogs to all the angels now. And chasing squirrels that you just can't catch.
Love always, me & Gypsy