Remembering Lady

Today we walked the ski-hill trail at the state park. We’ve walked this trail dozens of times with Lady, and today was no exception. However, today she was with us in spirit only, and this was a memorial trek.

Lady died yesterday. Those are some of the hardest words to type, to say, to accept. I keep repeating them, and each time I feel the same lurch of my heart, the same gut-wrenching sense of loss. For six years she has been the third member of our family, the one who kept us faithful to daily walks, who accompanied us to concerts and on vacations, on picnics and photo treks, who shared snack time in the evening and our bed at night.

Six years doesn’t seem like a long time, but we got a late start.


Lady and I in Manistique, Mich., on vacation.

The humane society said Lady was 5-7 years old when we got her in May, 2010. We hoped she fell at the lowest end of that range. When we accidentally met her former owners, we discovered she exceeded it altogether. She was 9 when we got her, and 15-1/2 when she died.

The humane society described Lady as being true to her name, and as being confident. That’s pretty good for a beagle whose former owner said, “she isn’t good for anything because she won’t hunt.” We discovered Lady loved sniffing out rabbits, and even following them, but she was afraid of gunshots and thunder and other loud noises. The first part of her life was


Our sweet Lady, who loved her walks, and who believed only in continuing forward, never going back. This was at Potawatomi State Park fall 2015, when I suspected it would be her last fall.

spent on a chain near an outdoor doghouse in the company of other dogs, and her skittishness around hand movements suggests she may have been hit. When we got her, she wasn’t used to living in the house, and didn’t know how to ask to go outside.

We solved the resulting potty problem by taking her out on a rigid schedule–and almost came to regret it, because Lady loved that schedule. She had no problem with potty outside, as long as it was accompanied by a walk–and where SHE wanted to go. We’re still amazed at how a 30-pound dog could become a boat anchor, with one leg braced firmly against leash tugs, when she had her own destination in mind. As often as not, we capitulated, because after all, the walks were for her. If we had to say no, she graciously accepted the verdict and never held it against us. Mostly, she just wanted to walk and sniff things. With Lady, there was no such thing as a brisk walk. There were far too many sniff stops for that.

Lady had her own corner of the couch, and was


George, Lady and I at the old ski hill, scene of our yearly Christmas photo. This was last year’s–and the last one ever.

beside herself with frustration if company dared to sit in her spot. She’d pace the floor, and stare at me, and if the person dared to leave the room, they found a beagle in their place when they returned.

She had her own bed in the bedroom, too, but was more likely to sleep with us, sprawled sideways so that neither of us had much leg room. And we let her. “After all, she IS the dog,” George would say. It became our mantra any time we gave in to her. Giving in never seemed to spoil her, which is why another mantra developed: “She is the BEST dog.”

If she had her own ideas about things, she was also patient with ours. She’d lie curled up near the kitchen table no matter how long or how late our meal was–because she knew


Lady waiting for treats.

the walk came after the dishes were done. The other day, I saw her suddenly sit up expectantly when I took off my apron and hung it up, and realized she knew that’s when the work was done and the fun would begin.

Lady was a Mama’s dog–no need to apologize to George, because he told me that all the time. When I left the room, she’d wait a bit to see if I’d return. If I didn’t, I’d hear the jingle of her collar as she searched me out. The mornings were the most amusing.


Lady always loved running in the snow. Last winter she preferred to walk.

She’d lie by the table while we ate breakfast, then follow me from room to room as I put things away, checked email in the office, made the bed, maybe threw in a load of wash–and finally I’d go sit in my recliner for Morning Prayer. I’d look up, and there Lady stood, in the kitchen, waiting for the signal. As soon as the chair’s foot rest went up, over she’d come, then jump up onto her corner of the couch where she’d curl up with a sigh. She knew I’d be there for a while.

She also knew that around 7:30 or so every


Lady on her favorite corner of the couch.

evening, George and I had a little snack and got something for her, too. Occasionally we ran late, or maybe forgot altogether. Lady didn’t. If nothing good to eat was forthcoming by 8 p.m., she’d hoist herself up from her comfy couch spot, wander over to my chair, and stare. Do you have any idea how loud a dog stare is? If I arranged myself so I couldn’t see her, she’d move so I’d have to.  And she’d continue to stare until one of us got up and headed for the pantry.

Unlike a lot of beagles, Lady was quiet and laid back. She never barked when company arrived and she paid no attention to other dogs (she’d had enough of them as a pack member, I think). Only two things induced her to let loose with that typical bark-howl we loved: our arrival home when she’d been left behind (we’d hear her through the window), and mealtime. “Are you a hungry girl?” always brought the familiar yodel, while she pranced at our feet, toenails clicking on the floor in eager excitement. Like all beagles she was a chow hound, so her food had to be strictly regulated.

In order to prevent separation anxiety when we first got her,

My honey and my dog...

George and Lady in the state park last fall.

we gave her treats whenever we’d come home. It took her only once or twice to figure out that routine! She’d meet us at the door, prancing and dancing and finally howling if we didn’t produce a treat fast enough. We became experts at finding low-cal treats to keep her healthy.

In the last year or so, the howling had all but stopped. Now and then a renewed burst of energy would bring it on, to our delight. Lady took a blood pressure pill, eventually another to keep her continent, an eye drop twice a day for a chronic eye condition, and most recently, her heart rate had slowed from 120 to 60 beats per minute. Then she developed a chronic nose congestion that could be very messy and off-putting. Considering her age, her heart condition and the high cost, we opted not to take strenuous and invasive measures to discover the cause. She still loved her walks, but now we strolled, slowly.

Thus we came to yesterday morning, after a night full of sneezes, snotting, breathing struggles, no sleep–and not for the first time. We made the hard choice, despite her bright-eyed appearance of well-being in so many other ways.

Today the house seems unusually quiet, except for the


Sitting in the shade on a hot day during a walk.

phantom jingling of her collar. I washed her bedding and her dishes, but can’t bare to remove the couch cover just yet. Her absence doesn’t seem quite real, and George and I both tear up at unexpected moments. We took our walk on the ski hill trail, talking about Lady most of the time, remembering her love of forging ahead until the day we noticed she was lagging behind–the beginning of the end. We laughed, we cried, we took pictures as always–but it seemed strange not to hand off the leash back and forth to each other in order to get our shots.


Her passing was peaceful, as you can see. (Photo by George Sawyn)

Tomorrow, we may take the loop walk, or skirt the bay on the Ice Age Trail. We may wander through the Habitat Park and into the neighborhood beyond–and wonder if anyone will notice we walk alone.

But we WILL walk. Twice a day, we’ve decided, we’ll head for the routes Lady loved. And always, I firmly believe, though no one will see, a little spirit beagle will trot along beside us, keeping us company as she always did. Rest in peace, dear sweet Lady.


About Monica Sawyn

I'm a retired newspaper reporter/columnist, and although I still freelance, I miss the weekly column I used to write. I still "see columns" in everyday life and need a place to put them after they're written--thus, this blog. I'm Catholic, have been a Benedictine oblate since 1977, and live with my husband and our beagle in Sturgeon Bay, Wis. When I'm not writing, I'm probably reading, sewing, taking photos or walking the dog.
This entry was posted in Animal antics, beagles, Living with a dog, Memories and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

14 Responses to Remembering Lady

  1. moniKphoto says:

    I am so sorry for your loss. My sympathy to you and George.

    Regards Monica

    • Monica Sawyn says:

      Thanks, Monica. It’s going to be a while before we get over losing Lady. We’ll get another beagle eventually, and that will help. But Lady will also live in this house and in our hearts.

  2. blb1 says:

    Oh Monica I understand the sorrow you feel. We’ve walked that path with two dogs and today I can’t remember how many cats. Now I wait for the fateful day my 2 twenty year old birds leave.

    • Monica Sawyn says:

      Lady was my eighth dog. It never gets any easier, sending them on their way. I will always miss her just as I miss all the others. Maybe a little more so, because she has been with us since we moved here, and even went on our honeymoon wit us. That makes her special.

  3. Pete Markham says:


    My heart is so sad for you and George right now. I think I know exactly how you feel. I’ve lost seven dogs in my adulthood (Emmet, Gordon, Libby, Belle, Jordan, Daisy, and Joy) and every one was heart wrenching. I still think about all of them often and miss them all.

    I know Lady was a special girl to you. Without a doubt you made her last six years the best of her life. My thoughts and prayers are with you both right now.


    • Monica Sawyn says:

      Thank you so much, Pete. You’ve taken in so many animals, and thus have lost so many, and you have a big heart for them, so I know you understand exactly. We appreciate the thoughts and prayers! Please add one that another little beagle will be needing a home soon!

  4. Nell says:

    Oh Monica, so sorry to hear this sad news. How she was loved. We have had to say goodbye to a few dogs in our lifetime as well. No, it is never easy. May you and George be a comfort to each other in the coming days.

    • Monica Sawyn says:

      Thank you so much! It’s always nice when people understand. Yes, Lady was definitely loved, a lot! And she deserved it. There are so many empty corners of this house–and in our hearts. If you’ve gone through it, you know how it is.

  5. Eric Hollas says:

    What a beautifully-written piece, Monica. Lady brought out the best in you! Eric

  6. Arthur Henry says:

    WOW!!   I just got to this one.  Needless to say I am still catching up.  As usual this was a fantastic writing!!  VERY beautiful my friend.   I am not sure if the tears in my eyes are from sadness at the loss of Lady, or are they tears of joy for all the happiness you three enjoyed and shared.   Maybe both.   Love is such a wonderful thing.   I am so happy that you, and Lady, were all able to share and enjoy such a love together.  Fabulous!!   I really enjoyed this reading.  I will keep this one for sure.. Art

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s