Annie, AKA The Huntress, AKA The Duchess left us this last Sunday night after a sudden, but as is the way with our beloved aged dogs, not unexpected decline in health.
Too dignified for games of fetch, too precious to chew sticks and as one not to suffer fools The Duchess lived her life among her people - and by her people we mean anyone with food and/or willing to adore her. Funny about her feet and never sure whether she liked her ears scratched or not (some days yes, some days no) Annie delighted us with her peculiar ways. Only in later life did she accept that opening doors herself was acceptable to someone of her standing. Prior to that, Annie would stand at a half open door waiting for someone to open it fully for her entrance. Her title of Duchess earned, not merely bestowed.The shuffling of back paws that had become a familiar sound across our floors and that we had likened to a small Japanese lady wearing fine silk slippers became more of a sway as she became less steady on her feet. Overnight she lost her voracious appetite and aptitude for speed eating (if ever a member of the nobility was to enter a village pie eating contest, she would have been a clear winner), and it became clear to us that whatever mystery was happening inside was ready to take her from us. Our only remaining wish for her was that she left peacefully, with dignity and with us by her side.
So, in gracious style, befitting a creature of such nobility Annie chose her day carefully. Our remarkable girl, the colour of fallen pine needles and with eyes that melted hearts, chose a warm day under blue skies and blazing with the colours of autumn to match her own colour palette on which to say her goodbyes to her adoring public.She selected a Sunday, her favourite day of the week due to its high likelihood of a roast dinner being served, with extra vegetables and gravy in the pan for her (and much to her chagrin in later life, to be shared with M'Lord Reacher).
The Duchess finally left us with her own spectacular light display on Sunday evening 23 April during a rare show of the Southern Lights over our home in Wanaka, New Zealand. We like to think that was the universe calling her magnificence home.
The Huntress who became The Duchess lies now alongside her beloved Jack, under the cherry tree at The Huts. We placed her with the wool from her bed and her coat so the Duchess need never feel under-dressed in public or uncomfortable in her quarters, and with a piece of smoked chicken should her appetite return. The two of them, our very own Royal Couple, overlook the lake we all love in a place full of fond memories together.
If she could have talked, we hope she would have whispered 'thank you' in our ear. Well Our Duchess, let's just say the pleasure was all ours.
