We never were intending to get a dog while in France, but when friends of ours could no longer care for their Bearded Collie, we became the proud owners of Chanel. She was a french dog, after all, and needed a good french name. She came with instructions on what to feed her. Fresh vegetables and fruits and certain kinds of meat. I thought this was really amusing, and bought her dog food. When dinner time came she met it with total lack of enthusiasm and a look of “Is THIS what you’re giving me for dinner?” Eventually we fed her table scraps in with the dog food and that was much better.
She was a quiet, devoted pet and everyone loved her. While we were living in France, she always looked groomed with her long shiny coat brushed and tidy. But she did not look like this when we moved back to the farm. The dirt was attracted to her and wouldn’t come off easily. Brandon brushed her for a while, but then gave up. It was so much work and it never lasted long. She was never meant to be a farm dog. She turned from a coquettish little beauty into a ‘swamp thang’.
Chanel lived for twelve years. At the end, back at farm and years later, I noticed Boy wouldn’t leave her side. By the time I got her to the vet, the blood infection had progressed and there wasn’t much the vet could do, so we had to put her down. It happened while I was busy packing up to move from the farm in 2002, and I felt guilty that I hadn’t noticed it earlier. It was a very sad time.
No comments:
Post a Comment