My wife woke me up this morning to the sad news that Shuba, our beloved German shorthair pointer had died overnight. She was sick Friday, throwing up and shaking. Karen took Shuba to the vet and gave her some anti-vomiting pills. Karen said Shuba was up just before she went to bed after midnight. When I got home at 1:30, I didn’t see Shuba, looked for her in one of the crates, and in our room and our son’s room. She died in the other crate.
She was about 13.
Shuba came to live with us on Oct. 6, 2011. During the five years she lived with us, she and I ran countless miles and we walked many, many more. She loved chasing squirrels and other small mammals, but she was sweet and gentle around all people. She never barked or growled. Even when I’d kick her out of bed at night, she didn’t growl at me. She always let me play peek-a-boo with her ears. She was so sweet, and we’ll miss her.
2016 has been a rough year. In January, we thought Domino, our 16-year-old pointer-terrier mix, was going to die. He had stopped eating and barely moved. He was constantly falling down. Yet after a few months, Domino was back to his ornery self, growling, barking and being a wonderful dog. Early in my running career, it was Domino who was my partner. While Domino didn’t mind running. He’d rather sniff and pee and sniff and pee. Shuba would stop dead in her tracks to pee, but she’d rarely stopped running to sniff a pile of leaves or a stray tree. The two dogs were different in many ways.
Both love to explore. When Shuba got out of the yard, we never knew where she might end up. The longer she lived with us, though, the closer to home she stayed when she did get out. Domino was predictable. He’d run up and down the alley and never strayed far from home. My fear was that Shuba would be hit by a car when she got out. One time she jumped into a neighbor’s van.