Elegy for Trixie

9/11/2003


I just lost a dear friend, our family dog, Trixie.  We had to put her down today.  She was getting old and was losing control over various bodily functions.  It was time.  It was probably past time, but it was hard to make that ultimate decision.  I keep trying to tell myself that she was just a dog.  But she was a long-time member of my family.  My kids grew up with that dog.  I did some growing myself with that dog, as I slid out of my self-absorbed life and into the responsibilities and joys of raising a family.  I cannot separate thoughts about Trixie from associations with my family and thoughts of happy times back then.

I cannot think about Trixie without thinking about how she became a member of our family.  We got her from the pound, way back in 1988.  She was just out of puppy-hood.  She was a beautiful animal, a border collie mixed with conventional collie.  She had a sleek, black, white, and brown coat; with that long collie mane.  She was nervous and high-strung, qualities the breed is known for.  In addition, I always had the suspicion that she had been mistreated in her life before the pound; she had a life-long distrust of men which she managed to overcome with me.  She reminded me of a dog my sister and I shared when we were in high school, and also a friend's dog with whom I had developed a bond.  My wife and I had decided that a dog would be good for our two daughters, ages 5 and 3.

So we went to the pound, just to have a look.  We weren't really planning on getting a dog that day.  We looked at dog after dog.  I didn't really see any dogs that grabbed me, and I don't think the others did either.  But then, just as we were thinking about leaving, we came across Trixie.  There she was, in all her glory.  Something clicked in me.  This was the dog.  There's something about the sleek look of a collie, the mane, the pricked up ears, the long hair, the slim build underneath that heavy coat.  I couldn't understand why a dog this beautiful was in the pound, looking lost and lonely in her pen.  I fell in love with her immediately, as did the rest of the family.  So, we went home with our new dog that very day.

My youngest daughter, the 3 year old, was the one who actually named her.  We had been trying to think of a name.  The day we brought Trixie home, my daughter was playing and talking to her.  Her speech was about half sensical and half non-sensical, as 3 year old conversations usually go.  She was referring to the dog as Prixie; over and over.  At one point, it came out Trixie.  I liked the sound of that.  I proposed the name to the rest of the family and it was accepted unanimously.

Trixie was part Border Collie, and her genetic heritage showed clearly, as we soon discovered.  Trixie's herding instincts were highly developed.  The girls would tear around the house, and Trixie would follow close on their heels, nipping at the pants legs.  This was over and above the usual puppyish behavior.  We also had difficulty controlling her when walking her.  As the old joke goes, she would take us for a walk rather than the other way around.  After the kids suffered a few painful nips, my wife and I decided that we had to get control of this dog.  We called up a trainer, one who had an excellent reputation in our area.  She came to our house, talked to us for a while as she was observing the dog.  Then she went to work.  Within minutes, she had Trixie heeling alongside her, and sitting when ordered.  That woman knew how to show a dog who was boss.  The trainer then invited us to her obediance school, a new class was starting soon.  We were so impressed that we eagerly consented.

The thing about obediance school is that it's just as much about educating and training the owner as it is about training the dog.  You had to learn a little about dog psychology.  You had to learn how much one could expect of the dog.  You had to learn about Alphas in the pack, and how dogs are social animals and respond to the one asserting authority.  You had to learn how dogs submit to authority.  And, of course, the dog itself had a lot of learning to do, as well.  Pretty soon, we found that we could lead Trixie on a leash, without her pulling, and we could control where we wanted her to go.  She would sit and lay on command.  The thing is that it all just came about so naturally, as if dog and human were made for one another.  I highly recommend obediance training for any dog owner.

I taught Trixie how to play Frisbee.  I had seen a dog Frisbee competition one time.  I was so amazed at what I saw.  The owner would line up at the goal line of a football field, with his dog next to him.  The owner would heave that Frisbee as far as he could.  As soon as the Frisbee was released, the dog would charge out, catch up to the floating disk 50 or 70 yards down the length of the field, and with a huge leap pluck it right out of the air!  I wanted a dog that could do that!

I started working with Trixie.  We had worked on fetching in obediance school, so she wasn't entirely ignorant of what I wanted her to do.  Dogs have an instinct to chase after anything that flies, so that part was fairly easy.  The difficult part was getting her tocatch the Frisbee and fetch it back to me.  She would tear after the Frisbee the instant I released it, sometimes outrunning it no matter how hard I flung it.  That dog was fast, as all collies are.  When the Frisbee landed, she would struggle to pick it up, biting at it and trying to flip it up with her nose.  She would get frustrated, and would start biting at the grass around the Frisbee, tearing up big chunks of our lawn.  Then she started grabbing at it as it was in flight, trying to get it before it landed.  Finally, one day, she caught it in flight!  After much praise and work, she got to the point where she would snatch it out of the air and fetch it back.  But she was a stubborn girl, for she would fetch it back to within 10 feet of me and just drop it on the ground.  Or she would want to play keep away or tug of war.  That's a natural game for dogs to play.  It took a long time before she would fetch the Frisbee back to me, and actually release it when I ordered her to.  But she did, finally.  Trixie got to be a pretty good Frisbee player.  She was probably not good enough for competition, and neither was I.  But if you're going somewhere outdoors, and you've got a Frisbee and a dog, there's nothing better.  Nothing comes close.

We soon discovered an odd quirk of Trixie's.  She had this thing about lights.  Flashlights and sunlight reflections from watches would drive her crazy.  She would see that circle of light travelling along the ground, and she would chase it and pounce.  I guess she thought it was alive or something.  She would even chase sunlight reflecting off of her ID tag on her collar.  We would be talking on the back deck, with Trixie lazing in the sun.  Someone would start waving their arms as they were talking, and Trixie would be off, chasing the reflection from the talker's wristwatch.  The talker would give me an odd look, as if saying what's up with that dog, man?

We took that dog everywhere.  There was nothing I liked better than to take a long walk into the woods with the girls, with Trixie on leash.  We would get out into the woods, and then let Trixie off leash, and she would go bounding along, sniffing and digging at everything.  We would bring the Frisbee, and go out into a field and play three person keep-away from the dog.  We would walk along the stream, and she would inevitably find some mud somewhere.  The only downside to these trips was cleaning up the dog afterwards.

As Trixie got older, she got cranky.  Always flighty, she now started barking ferociously at other dogs.  Every day, a UPS truck would come down our street, and she would start barking as soon as she heard it.  One day, I was playing Frisbee with her.  A man came down a path beside our house, walking his own dog.  Trixie ran up, barking and snarling, and then she got into a fight with the other dog.  Trixie got the worst of it, and we had to take her to the vet for a couple of stitches.  My wife and I started discussing what we could do about this new phase of behavior.  We started talking about maybe getting a new dog, a companion to help Trixie socialize with other dogs.

My wife was always fond of Chihuahuas, having had one as a pet when she was growing up.  I was more inclined to big dogs.  I couldn't help thinking of Chihuahuas as noisy rats.  But one day, fate intervened.  We were travelling to see my folks in Virginia, driving along a lonely stretch of I-85 just over the state line.  There were cars pulled over, and people waving down cars.  I stopped, and discovered that a stray bitch and her pups were stuck in the median strip in the middle of the Interstate.  I got out and started helping in chasing down dogs.  Unfortunately, the bitch ran out into the highway and got killed.  She was a beautiful, big, Rotweiler.  I rescued one of the pups, a tiny little ball of fur.  My wife knew when I got out of the car that I was going to come back with a puppy in my arms, and she was correct.  So, my wife, who had been expecting to acquire a Chihuahua, ended up instead with a Rotweiler pup.  We named her Lucky, because it just seemed to fit.

So, we brought Lucky home to meet Trixie.  We were so nervous, wondering how Trixie was going to react.  Trixie was a little curious but stand-offish at first.  But Lucky was too irresistable, even for Trixie.  They started getting along fine.  I started trying to teach Lucky how to play Frisbee, with Trixie as fine a role model as one could ask for.  But Lucky just wasn't fast enough, and she didn't seem terribly interested.  Lucky also had hip problems which prohibited her from being as enthusistic about Frisbee as Trixie was.

Trixie established herself as the dominant one between herself and Lucky.  Trixie never went above 45 pounds, and as Lucky grew she reached 70, 80, and then 90 pounds.  But since Trixie had asserted her dominance ever since Lucky was a pup, Lucky was ever the submissive one.  As long as this situation continued, the two dogs got along just fine.  They seemed to be the best of friends.  We thought our problems with Trixie's crankiness were over with.

There was unfortunately one lesson from dog training that we hadn't learned.  Lucky started realizing that she outweighed Trixie 2 to 1.  Lucky started asserting herself more and more.  The dogs would fight, and Trixie's pride kept her trying to re-assert her dominance.  In such fights, Trixie would always lose out.  There were several emergency trips to the vet.  At the same time, our family was undergoing some strain.  My wife and I were not getting along, and had started talking about separating.  Let me tell you, when your family is breaking up around you, the last thing you need is tension between the dogs.  We finally separated, with my wife keeping Trixie.  I took Lucky with me.  The girls lived with my wife.

The separation helped Trixie somewhat, although she was getting old now and suffering through various aches and pains.  I like to think that Trixie finally knew some peace.  My wife and I keep in touch, and occasionally would get the dogs together, under strict supervision, of course.  They tolerated each other, although we would never let them get as close as we used to.  I started working more with Lucky on Frisbee, but her hip started bothering her enough that I had to stop.  Trixie rarely played Frisbee anymore, she just didn't have the strength and stamina.

So, Trixie got older, and tired, and out of control, and confused.  It happens.  My wife and I started talking about putting her down.  But then Trixie would have a good day, and we'd think maybe its not time yet.  It's a very difficult decision to make.  If she had just gotten sick and was visibly suffering, the decision would have been easier.  Instead, she would have a bad day, and then several good days.  But, the moment came.  Trixie started losing control of her bowels.  My wife was carrying her up and down the stairs everytime she took her out.  It was apparent to us both, as well as the kids.  It was time.

So, we all got together and said our farewell, each in our own way.  We went to the Vet.  We were all in tears.  We held her and told her we loved her as the Vet injected a high dose of tranquilizer.  It was over in minutes.  We left, each to deal with our grief in our own way, feeling as if with the loss of Trixie, we lost the last of what remained of once happy times together.  Grief is part of life.  It comes, it goes.  It will be back.  And it will pass.  I feel lucky that I got the chance to share my life with such an animal, a friend forever, never fickle.