It seems appropriate that today, the eve of the day set aside to remember fallen soldiers, we should be saying goodbye to Otty.
Otty was, of course, a dog, but a fierce soldier nonetheless in defense of Blackrock. Possibly the fiercest of them all, as a matter of fact. She barked at ospreys and other large birds that she considered a threat, as well as those suspicious bicycles on the road and anyone who had the temerity to run or walk past the house. She attacked raccoons, woodchucks, and possums without fear. She was the one who dragged back so much delicious carrion in the fall left behind by hunters.
She was a good dog to have around.
Unfortunately, she got sick on Thursday. The MiL thought she had a fever and decided to call the vet in the morning if she wasn't better on Friday morning. She wasn't, so the MiL made an appointment to take her to the vet at 11 a.m. Friday, but at 10 a.m., Otty was nowhere to be found. We looked everywhere on the property, and the MiL even searched the gully, but we couldn't find her.
A. found her this morning. She was under the forsythia hedge in the back. The MiL had looked there, but I guess Otty had crawled in there after that. She was dead, and had been for some time.
A. buried her on the edge of the garden by the blackberry bushes, the only spot where the ground wasn't too hard to dig. We'll put up a marker for her tomorrow and decorate her grave with flowers. A fitting Memorial Day tribute to a brave dog.
Good bye, Ottoline. Happy hunting in the sweet by and by.