Okay, so she wasn’t just any pet, but more like a symbol for our little family, so I guess you could say that this was a special case.
When my wife Nerissa and I bought our first house – a modest three bedroom home in Umbilo with loads of Oregon pine and old Durban character – Nikita, a 6-year-old German Shepherd cross, came as part of the deal.
The folks we bought the house from asked us to look after her for a few months while they got themselves sorted out . . . a few months turned into 6 months, and by then there was no way they were going to get her back.
Kita was a little below par when we got her. While her owners loved her to bits, they fed her dodgy no –name-brand food and her coat was a bit scruffy. After a few months of good eating, deworming and tick and flea muti, she filled out significantly, and loved her food with a passion from then on. Her coat quickly assumed a glossy, thick character that was her trademark.
Anyways, Nikita “came with the house”, and this was our first house together, so she was a special good luck charm for us. She lapped up the attention, couldn’t wait to go for her daily walk and generally was a much loved part of the household.
Spoilt
Just before we moved house a few years later, along came Shadow, a rather spoilt thoroughbred German Shepherd pup. While her nose was put out of joint for a few days by the new arrival, and she chased the little furball around the house (we were terrified she would crush him with her bulk), Nikita was incredibly gentle and, rather graciously, gradually made way so he could take over more and more of our lives.
By the time she’d reached 10, the regular walks to the park had slowed down to once in a while, as she had some pretty serious arthritis issues with her back legs. But that didn’t mean a quiet life for our beloved enforcer. She regularly took on her “brother” and showed him who was boss, hurtling around the garden at a frightening speed (we were sure she would break a leg one day). Things would get really crazy when we were in the garden and the Germans would belt around the place, dashing between bushes and in and out of flower beds in an endless game of tag.
Slowly, slowly our dear old friend got a little more shaky, and started struggling to get up, despite the anti-inflammatories she was taking. While she still played in the garden with Shadow and our recent arrival Roxy, and enjoyed lying in the sun, more and more time was spent lying inside, resting and breathing ever more deeply. At times, she had to drag herself for a few steps before she could comfortably get up.
Cherished
When you’ve had a pet that you’ve loved and cherished for a long time, and they get old and a bit feeble, eventually there comes a time when you have to acknowledge (and discuss, as we did as a family) what to do when the suffering becomes too much.
Typically for us, this great dog (13 years old, not bad going for a big hound) offered an easy way out and, instead of lingering in pain as I feared would happen, she quickly grew sick one evening and we realised she was going to pass away.
As we sat there and listened to her laboured breathing, we recognised that in our little world, an era was coming to an end. This legend of a pet was moving on, but Shadow was finally an adult and now had a little friend he could look after.
We will never forget Nikita’s spirit . . . and the memories will endure through the adventures to come. – By Garth Johnstone