Aurora: In Memoriam

After her eye operation we called her our little 'Mo (short for "emoji")
One-eyed but undaunted.

Aurora was born on October 30, 2006.

We got her from Jackie Ragland on April 25, 2014.

We had her put to sleep on January 2, 2019. Cancer.

When we were trying to decide when to let her go, I read that one could make up a list of ten things your dog liked to do and, if they could no longer do half of them, it was time.

Here's my list, by way of remembering her at her best:

She craved attention and would always meet us at the door when we came home.
She loved to eat and was usually the first one in the kitchen when we prepared the dogs' food.
She also loved dog toothpaste, fish oil, watermellon, and most dog treats.
She loved to ride in the stroller and would dash into the garage and dance on her hind legs at any suggestion we were going for a walk.
She liked to walk along the line of trees down the street and sniff each one.
She loved to go for a ride in the car. Open the front door and say "let's go" and she would be at the car before we were.
When we got home, took her out of the car and put her on the ground, she would run to the front door with the same enthusiasm as she showed when leaving.
She loved to be brushed and, if she saw me approach the grooming table in the evening, our usual time, she would be right there behind me.
She loved a bowl of cold water right after being brushed.
If you sat with her on your lap, she would climb up your chest and then roll sideways onto her back, secure in the knowledge that you would catch her.
She would fall asleep on your chest if you lay down on the sofa.
She liked to play with Oni but never quite got the idea that Oni's idea of play was to get her playmates to chew on Oni's ears.
She loved to join Belli in barking at the door if someone knocked or left a package on the porch.
She didn't like unknown intruders or even known intruders (particularly our housekeeper or Lisa's brother Mark) and would bark at them relentlessly.

Aurora was a strong, well coordinated dog. If Annabelle picked a fight with her, not an unusual occurrance, Aurora would be on top in a flash, growling at Belli, while the latter would be flat on her back, snarling up at Aurora. Rora had no teeth and Belli is so completely uncordinated that no one ever got hurt.

It was tremendously sad to see such a lively and energetic dog have to leave us.

    To have reverence for life
    you must have reference for death.
    The dogs we love are not taken from us
    but leave when summoned by the gods.
      — Jim Harrison

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