In Loving Memory

Tasha Leonard

November 1994 - September 7, 2007

Tasha was a wonderful dog. We will miss her very much. In her memory, I'm going to write Tasha's story.

Eric and I married very young. I was 19 and he was 21. We knew that we didn't want to have children for a long time. Both of us grew up having pets. I can't remember a time when I didn't have a dog, nor could he. As we approached our first anniversary and our first Christmas so far away from home, separated from our immediate family by more than 2000 miles, I started looking through the newspaper at all of those 'free puppy to good home' ads. I pestered Eric and pestered Eric. Give me a puppy, I can take out any mommy instinct out on a dog. Please, see they are free, they need good homes. Please please please. I wore him down. I don't know how much nudging or begging I actually needed to do. One evening, a couple of days before Christmas, I talked him into driving out to a farm outside of Victoria, Kansas.

There were five or seven puppies, only two of them were girls. The boys were all black with cute white tips on their tails, paws, and noses, and the girls were both white with tan splotches all over them. They ran for the tractor, and the girls hid very well. One of the farmer's sons went under the tractor and got one of the females and handed her to me. I wanted a girl, even though I sort of liked the black and white dogs looks. The puppy licked at me, wiggled a bunch, and then burrowed into my hair on my shoulder. I was in love. We had to bring her home with us. It was Christmas Eve Eve, so she was our present we got to unwrap early. We named her Natasha, with the idea of eventually getting a cat and naming him Boris. We called her Tasha for short, bringing in a bit of Star Trek.

Raising a puppy brought on a whole new dimension to our marriage. We fought over how to train a puppy, punishment vs. rewards, and we learned about more than puppies. Tasha started out as an indoor dog, though she was kicked out of the house for a few months after she chewed a hole in our rental house carpet. A friend came over and helped Eric build a fence in the yard for Tasha, and we bought her a dog house.

Moving to Arkansas was hard for her, losing a yard to play in, having to become an apartment dog, but she made the adjustment fairly well, climbing the stairs several times a day despite her fear of heights, grates, open spaces on the road, and yes, stairs. We taught Tasha the best trick a dog could know, to kill Barney. Tasha could pick Barney out of a line-up of stuffed animals. She never harmed any toy we didn't give her, and even unwrapped a Barney we'd set under the Christmas tree. I guess she knew that box was hers.

Tasha was a very quiet dog who seldom barked. She never snarled or snapped at people, and was gentle with kids. Well, a little too enthusiastic during her puppy hood, but she calmed down after a few years. She never did learn to walk properly on a leash, doing much better with a harness and not pulling quite so hard. Tasha befriended all of our friends, never knowing a stranger. She loved men in uniform, especially a Park Ranger uniform. Simply wearing that uniform gained you admission to the house, family, and lots of white fur deposited on your green pants.

While we lived in Arkansas, I brought home a Pomeranian puppy, Pandora. Tasha did not take to this little furball and did try to eat her a couple of times. Eventually they became friends, and were inseparable. Both wanted to be alpha dogs, which caused some problems, but nothing Tasha couldn't handle. She out massed Pandora by 45 lbs, and just took it when Pandora would chew on her legs, ears, mouth, tail, etc. Then they'd play tag around the couch, and eventually go take naps together. After Pandora died, Tasha was less playful, and more inclined to nap most of her day away. Perhaps this was her missing Pandora, or maybe Pandora simply kept Tasha more active than she otherwise might have been. I will say this, Tasha was a great puppy trainer. She helped housebreak Pandora, and she's definitely responsible for teaching a Pomeranian not to bark. I've never met a non-yappy Pom before, and I give full credit to Tasha for that one.

Sam was born a few months after we lost Pandora. Tasha wasn't too sure about this addition to the family. I followed some advice on how to adjust a dog's routine to having a baby, and we started mostly ignoring Tasha unless it was positive interaction with the baby. Oh, she still went for walks, and was well loved, but we had to pay a little less attention to the dog and far more attention to the baby.

Sam's first words, interchangeably, were Daddy and Doggy. Then he learned to say Tasha. He learned to pull himself up using the dog. Tasha developed a knack for knocking him over, by simply shifting her weight sideways. Sam learned to compensate for this, and learned to stand and walk holding onto Tasha. His first steps were not to Mama or Daddy, but to Tasha.

Having another baby put Tasha even further to the background as a well-loved dog who needed naps. We were careful to give her a spot she could call her own, where the kids needed to leave her alone. As she got older, it did hurt when the kids were too rough. Still, she never growled, snapped, or used any aggressive behavior with Sam and Awyn, even when I couldn't save her in time from being hurt. Like Sam, Awyn also learned to walk with Tasha's unwilling help. Tasha almost seemed more patient, but more likely she was just that much slower and had a harder time avoiding Awyn.

In the last year Tasha's arthritis got worse. She started showing much stiffness and was occasionally limp with one leg or another. Our vet was fantastic about helping us keep Tasha from being in too much pain. Tasha slept more and more. Thursday morning Tasha couldn't stand up without help. By lunch time I had to carry her down the steps. By evening she could no longer walk, even with assistance. She stopped eating and drinking. Eric and I had a very long talk that evening, and we decided I would take her to the vet up in Alpine. We both knew it was probably 'The Long Drive'. I left Sam and Awyn at Lily's house Friday morning. I lifted Tasha out of the van and carried her to the door of the Vet Clinic. She stood there while I opened the door, and walked in. She walked through the door, and when the lady at the desk asked if I needed a leash, I shook my head. Tasha wasn't about to run a race. She was also determined that I wouldn't carry her any farther. Our vet examined Tasha, and gave me several options, but said that all of them had low probabilities of helping her at all. She said she couldn't fix Tasha. Tasha layed down on the floor, and the vet went and got a soft blanket, and lifted her onto it so she wouldn't have to lay on the hard linoleum. I held her and stroked her as she slowly went to sleep, and stopped breathing.

Sam and Awyn have asked where Tasha is. We are telling them that she's gone. I suppose we will have to talk to Sam about death, and this is a good way to teach him. It is hard, though, to turn this into a teachable moment. We all miss her. It is very hard to say goodbye to a dog like Tasha. She is unforgettable.