Shasta

My good friend Shasta passed away last night. He was 8 years old and suffering from chronic kidney failure as the result of lymes disease. He contracted the disease from a tic, which he got in either Marin or Tahoe (the vet couldn't be sure), and was diagnosed about 6 months ago. The disease had damaged his kidneys beyond repair by the time we discovered it. We did everything we could to treat it, over the last 6 months we were giving him IVs nightly, various meds, everything we could try. In the end, it just was a disease that couldn't be cured. We did get an extra few months with him b/c of all the treatment, which was a blessing.

Shasta was truly a special dog. Everyone always thinks (and rightfully so) that their child or dog is the most special, smartest, cutest, etc. But I can honestly say - and anyone who spent time with him would agree - that Shasta was the greatest dog/pet/friend/companion one could ever hope to have. He was so full of energy and life and brought a smile to everyone he greeted.

Shasta was also obsessed with playing ball and swimming. God, that dog could swim and fetch! Balls, pine cones, sticks (hell, giant logs were even better) - you name it - and Shasta wanted you to throw it and bring it back to you, tail wagging, hitting it with his paws to push it to you, with that goofy look on his big grinning face that said "come on! One more time! Isn't this a blast?!" He always made everyone (no matter how tired they were of throwing that damn ball/stick/pine cone) chuckle, say "awe, alright Shasta, but this is the last time!", pick up that ball and give it another toss. Persistence is a lesson we all learned from Shasta.

He loved the outdoors. Loved swimming in the ocean, digging holes at the beach, tagging a long for a backcountry ski adventure, a hike, a mountain bike ride, a camping trip - hell, even a trip to the grocery store - he just wanted to join in!

Shasta loved the mountains, especially the snow. He was always the first to bound down the stairs in Tahoe when they were covered by feet of snow, to clear a path for us. He would disappear into the snow, and his head would pop up suddenly, with that grin, his muzzle and head covered in snow, laughing, thinking this was the best thing ever! That always made me smile.

But he was also a true friend and companion in quieter moments that a lot of people didn't get to see. He was a comfort during difficult times, always there to give me (and others) a boost. He greeted me every morning over the last 8 years by putting his muzzle on the bed next to my face while I slept, sometimes giving it a lick, his tail thumping against the night stand, making a racket, trying to get me out of bed. This is how he woke me up every morning. And the first thing I would see when I opened my eyes was his big goofy grin greeting me, saying "come on! Get up already! Its a new day! Let's play some ball or something before you go off and do whatever the hell you do when you leave me!" It was hard to get out of bed In a foul mood when greeted as such every morning. And because of that, he made me a better/happier person. I am going to miss that.

What more can I say? I lost my best friend last night. And my heart is broken. Making the decision I had to yesterday was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. Because his eyes - as sick as he was - still had that lust for life in them, that mischief. It was just his body that was failing him, he was so sick these last few days. I just couldn't bear to watch him suffer anymore.

Shasta, wherever you are, I hope that there is an endless supply of balls and someone to throw them for you (preferably with a "CHUCK-IT", so as to get that extra 100 yards of swimming/running), that you get bagels and bread (Shasta loved bread, crazy I know) and bacon whenever you want it, and lots of snow to play in and water to swim, and most importantly, someone to pet you and scratch your ears, and rub your belly when you stretch out on your back like you loved to do.

RIP good friend. I will miss you Little Man.