Tally Irish crossed the Rainbow Bridge last week and my life will never be the same. She was the little dog of my heart in a way no other dog has been. She needed me and loved me the most–and it was mutual.
Diagnosed with Demodex at 11 months, she rarely had a healthy day afterwards but managed to live LARGE for 11.5 years. Her skin was always problematic, she had Cushing’s disease, a huge heart murmur, and, ultimately, congestive heart failure took her life. Through her many health crises, she never gave up, never stopped playing, never stopped being interested in her sisters Ruby and Taffy, never stopped wanting to be with us–until the last days when the look in her eyes clearly said “Mom, help me breathe, help me.” So I did.
She was lovely and clingy and yappy at times and oh-so-smart. As far as I know, she was the world’s first and only herding Scotty. When her older sister Taffy lost her hearing, Tally taught herself (in a matter of days) to go out to the far corner of the yard and get Taffy’s attention, then nip at her heels to get her into the house. Soon, a command of “Tally, go get your sissy” would send her flying to do her job.
She also was the woobie monster of our household. ALL woobies which entered (a) belonged to her, and (b) were de-squeaked and gutted within minutes. She slept on piles of silent, flat woobies as if to say “I conquered you and now you exist solely for my comfort.”
Her littermate Ruby is as lost as we are. I’m not sure they ever spent a night apart until July 18. At 11.5 years of age, we must watch her carefully so that she does not slip away from a broken heart. Our almost-15-year-old Taffy seems less shaken, probably because she sleeps most of the time now.
RIP Tallulah. I know you’re perfect now and I can’t wait to see your beautiful wheaten coat shining in the sun someday.