This morning we're saying goodbye to Leda the Fluffball.
The fluffiest of all, indeed.
She had been declining slowly for awhile now, not surprising considering she was coming up on her twelfth birthday in March. That's pretty old for a collie. Yesterday morning she wouldn't eat her breakfast, though she was happy to go on a walk in the woods with the family and the rest of the dogs. Last night she was noticeably worse, and when the MiL went out to check on her before bed, Leda was nowhere to be found.
This morning A. found her curled up in the flower bed by the door. She had died right where she wanted to be. She died quickly, and after a day in which she got to have a last adventure in the woods.
Not a bad way to go for a dog.
We're all sad, of course, though not surprised. When the weather warms up this weekend, we'll bury her in the pasture where so many of the family's pets have been buried over the years.
Goodbye, Leda, the fluffy but ferocious defender of Blackrock. Rest in peace.