In Memoriam: Aunt Sissy

She was tiny. Runt of the litter. Her tail was crooked; she had bugged-out eyes and an underbite that gave us a good view of her crooked teeth. She hardly ever barked -- it was more likely you would hear her sputter and hiss when intimidated. She slept, on average, 20 hours per day. If the bed was unmade, she was too small to spot amid the thrown-back covers.

Ren, the Lead Dog, Pop's Pardner, didn't take too kindly to her arrival back in '94 (or was it '93?). Not sure how kindly he will take to her departure, either. It only happened this morning.

She would wake up Mom in the middle of the night, asking to go out. But when Mom got up to open the door, she'd double back and take the freshly-vacant warm spot in the master bed. Clever little dog, that Sissy.

She was one of Gavin's first words: "Iddy!" (Other dogs, including his own, are merely "dog" to him.)

She had a stroke last year, but managed to get around with just two and one-half of her legs functioning. At Christmas she had a seizure and we had to clean up her pee. But with a little help, she would still take her place on the couch and make a little nest in the top cushion.

Enjoy your nap, Sissy. Rest well.