Guinevere, queen of her yard, her house, her peeps passed away on Sunday. Know as Gwen, Gwenner, Gwen Gwen, Gwenner Butt, Puppy Girl and Nana’s baby, she was anxious and afraid of almost everything: the robot vacuum, pillows, falling leaves, other dogs, cats, men, women, smoke alarms, the bathroom — yet not thunder or fireworks. A fussy eater, she would often decline a morsel of something every other dog on the planet would gobble up and she liked to have her kibble enhanced – cat food, Greek yogurt, maple syrup were just a few (but no wet dog food). She preferred her blankets smoothed out and she always curled up facing the closest door.
A fierce and feared defender of the yard, she would hunt squirrels, rabbits and mice with abandon. Even a possum once. Guinevere never ate a sock, never counter-surfed, never pushed open a partly shut door. She was quite smart, although sometimes she hid that light under a barrel – never did master the concept of bringing the ball back to you. She knew a good number of tricks; treats were appreciated and always taken politely and so so gently – an inborn trait – nothing we ever taught her. The aroma of cheese could attract her to the kitchen from any room in the house. She wasn’t crazy about dressing up, but would do so patiently, usually holding stock still while the obligatory photos were taken.
She passed calmly and quietly in YA’s arms. She was loved and will be missed.
Ever had a dog that demanded a cheese tax?
