Pokie wasn't really our dog. Actually Pokie wasn't her real name. Her name was Persillia and she belonged to my nephew Haven, but she took up residence at our house a few years ago and she found her way into our hearts.
She was a kind dog that never got in a hurry. When ever we walked, the two labs, Black and Astro would tear out ahead of us at warp speed with Ol' Buddy. Persillia ambled along like a senior citizen on downers so that's why I called her Pokie.
She was not a big dog, but she was fearless. We have a part bulldog whose name is Taylor who is almost three times the size of Pokie. Taylor intimidates all the other dogs because of her size (105 pounds) but if push came to shove, Pokie would not back down. I think that always confused the big dog because they never actually fought.
In winter, Pokie lived for the fireplace. She loved those cold morning when we cranked up the old fireplace. I think if we had built her a ramp, she would have found her a spot somewhere between the logs and embers and went off to sleep.
Early this spring she started scratching uncontrollably. We took her to the vet and there were places on her ears that she had scratched raw. The vet gave us medicine which we gave Pokie religiously, but the condition worsened.
We bathed, dipped, soaked and treated her with several different medicines and ointments, but none of it worked. A few weeks ago she began to lose weight and she became listless.
We made the decision to have her put down. I hurts to lose a pet. And even though technically, Pokie didn't belong to us, we hated to let her go.
We brought her body back home to the farm and buried her out back in a place of honor next to Duke and Gibson - two of our beloved pets that passed on years ago. Jilda picked some fresh gardinias and laid them on her grave. This evening we have laughed and cried as we told Pokie stories. We are going to miss her.