09/04/2026
🐾🪽
Annie joined our home in March of 2025 and acted, from day one, like she had always been here. She navigated the ramp to our bed, slept with us, learned where we sat to eat, and was a quick master of the "snack staredown" when she wanted a bite. The staredown was often accompanied by a demanding bark, just to be extra sure you didn't miss her.
Annie was a big personality in a little, dark-haired, fuzzy body. She was a "soot sprite" in every way. Annie was SO black, we sometimes lost her. She was always in a shadowed or shaded area, blending in with the void. We, affectionately, started calling her "black Annie" around the house. Saying things like, "Check behind the chair for black Annie," knowing she was impossible to see in dim lighting. One time Aunt Kelsey went to pick her up at the vet and had to tell herself the whole way there not to go in and say she was there to pick up "black Annie." Kelsey kept repeating in her mind, "Just say, Annie, just say Annie" knowing it just wouldn't sound right to anyone who didn't know the back story. That will always make me laugh.
At 16 years old, the white, hazy clouds in Annie's eyes turned to dark little storm fronts and she lost her vision. We tried to help alleviate the discomfort, and she had an enucleation of her left eye a few months back. We have patiently guided Annie through the loss of this precious sense, but as her world grew dark, so did her spirit. Where she had found joy in life, she now found confusion and fear. Annie's remaining eye started to deteriorate and we were faced with the need to put her through another enucleation, to remove her right eye. This morning we had a hard conversation about putting her through another surgery, knowing the outcome wouldn't be a solution to the problem. We have had a lot of dogs thrive without their vision, Annie simply wasn't one of them. Without the ability to see the sun shine, it wasn't enough for her to simply feel the warmth on her face and we decided the kindest thing would be to give the gift of freedom.
"Quality of life" looks so different for each dog and a diminished level of joy has to be evaluated for each of them individually. It has never been, and never will be, my goal to simply keep a dog alive as long as I can. I will always strive to facilitate joy and comfort in any animal's life and, when I can no longer do that, I will be by their side as I give them the final gift of love.
One of the hardest things about watching Annie slip away from us was the amount of time we spent missing her while she was still here. She just wasn't herself anymore.
The only peace I have in losing such a special girl is the confidence I have in believing she is whole again. With her vision restored, she is full of life and on to her next chapter, full of joy and amusement as she pranks the heavens by hiding in the shadows like she inadvertently did to us so many times.
We loved you Annie, and our lives were better because we knew you.
