My brindle staffy that has been in so many of my blog photos passed away this week. She was 14 years old and never left my side other than for hospital stays for 12 years.
I hadn’t dealt well with the passing of my red staffy I was still on oxygen and had been told there was no hope of a second transplant and had given up for six months. The mental neighbor with his attack poodle was going around stirring up everyone’s dogs in the area. After numerous times of telling him to stop I called the local council. His junkie son in law then came around threatening to put a hit on me. It was a great area of stabbings and arson attacks.
I went around to his place on a mobility scooter and 4 liters of oxygen with a hammer and told him exactly what his mental his parents were like and ended up offering him a hundred dollars for then brindle. I had her two days later.
She couldn’t walk fifty feet she had been hit so much. I later found out her spine had fused and she had a rabbit trap through one paw. I couldn’t even open a plastic rubbish bag with her going and hiding and shaking for 15 minutes she had been abused that much. I had to climb under the kitchen table and hug her till she stopped shaking, then try and stand back up with 25 percent lung capacity. I did that for months.
After much rehab and having her ride on my mobility scooter down to the dog park where it was fenced off she could run without a lead and her back straightened up and through rubbing horse lineament into her paw it started to open back up from being crushed.
We had traveled half way around the country together. She could always make friends for me. Even when I went to the gym she would come with me. We’d go for a walk beforehand and then she would crash out in the back seat of the ute while I did a workout and then we would get scrambled eggs a ta cafe after-woods. If there was someplace that wouldn’t let me take her into the business then I wouldn’t deal with them. She would always keep me calm.
I couldn’t even do my current rehab without her following me back and forth up the corridor trying to walk.
I had a dog run built around the awning of my caravan. If I was gone too long at the shower block. She would push down the gate, the saw horses or anything else I had used blocking the way out and try and find me. Always having stopped at everyone she met to say hello and for pats mind you.
I only heard her growl a few times in her life and very rarely barked unless no one said hello to her. That staffy got me through two bought’s of cancer and waiting 6 years for a second set of lungs. She got me up and walking again and out my front gate after 3 months in ICU. Without her I would have been in wheelchair years ago.
Tash passed in my arms. She will be missed.