Bambi died tonight, after living with us for 14 years.  I don't know exactly how old she was, because she was fully grown when I found her in 1987.  I was driving home from where I used to keep my horses, and noticed something dark following me.  I stopped, and there she was.  She jumped into the car, came home with me, and stayed.  Nobody claimed her, and she never, ever wandered.  I don't know where she came from, but I suspect she'd belonged to some young people who'd recently moved from the block where my horses lived.  There had been a shooting, and Bambi's exceptional fear of any shot-like noise seemed to confirm that theory.

Dogs ask for so little, and give so much devotion in return.  Bambi was one of those dogs who kept reminding me of that.  She was a true family dog, joining us before the advent of the many whippets and other assorted canines.  When she arrived we only had her and Samson, a German Shepherd.  Both were "outside" dogs, and both belonged to everybody in the family, rather than selecting one particular human owner.

Before she was spayed, Bambi had one litter of (unplanned) pups.  At least some of them were Samson's, but I'm not sure about them all.  She was an excellent mum, she didn't realise, or care about the fact that her pups were not "in demand" purebreds.

She was a great "horse dog" and often went on rides in her younger days.  She had plenty of stamina, and never got left behind, however long the ride or hot the day.  At home she was a bit naughty with the horses though:  she'd chase them if she got the chance, and I'd have to tell her off.

As time went by she got older, wider and less active.  She accepted the whippets, terrier and even Skud (the 'road rescue' pup) into her pack.  She enjoyed being in charge.

A couple of years ago we had a bitch (for a short while) who challenged Bambi's alpha position, attacked her and nearly killed her.  Bambi, being old and frail, was so badly injured I was sure she could not survive.  She bled for a number of days, but she was tough, and she wasn't ready to go.  Miraculously she pulled through.  Some months later she appeared to have a stroke, and once again I thought her time was up, but once again she made a miraculous recovery.  She refused to die, she wasn't ready.

Tonight I feel very strange:  I am very sad and depressed, I should be crying, but I'm not.  I feel numb, and dazed.  But I don't feel the same sort of helplessness and despair that I felt when Lulu died in May, and that makes me feel guilty.  Is it because Bambi was old, and it was no shock when she died:  I'd been expecting it?  Lulu was young and full of energy, and should have had so many more years.

Bambi was amazing the way she kept enjoying life despite being very feeble and weak.  She ate well, and continued to run after the whippets, exerting her authority, and enjoying keeping them in their place.  She was leader of the pack right until the end, and she amazed me with her strength and determination to hang on.  I am grateful for the extra time she had that I did not expect.

When I returned from my trip in July, she had deteriorated noticeably, and continued to do so.  Last week I wondered if I should have her put to sleep, tonight I wondered if I should have.  Such a hard decision.  She stopped eating over the weekend, but last night she still came in to lie beside the heater in my bedroom during the night.  Today she lost all her strength.  I think it is better that she died at home, rather than having to make the unpleasant trip to a frightening veterinary hospital.

I am taking comfort in the lives around me, especially the six dogs and two cats who came with me to bury Bambi in the moonlight.  They followed with a kind of reverence, they all looked into her grave, and they seemed to be saying good-bye.  They gave every impression of understanding death.  I am thankful to have them, and a death makes me appreciate their lives even more.  Life is so precious, death is so tragic.

Give your animals an extra hug today, and appreciate them fully while the opportunity is there.  We only have them for such a short while.