The photo below is Fannie with our oldest grandson Wesley, now 11. He's known her since infancy. The two of them had a thing for hanging out under trees watching squirrels.
She was the Alpha dog here in our pack of two. Ashland, our 1/4 German Shepard, 3/4 Husky was always more timid than she and he didn't eat, lie down, or venture forth unless Fannie gave permission. Five years younger than her, he was the annoying puppy she had to train. He, however, never minded his role as number two dog. In fact, I could lay an entire raw roast beef at his feet and he would not even sniff it until Fannie had her fill and gave him permission to imbibe.
They were good buddies but there was a pecking order to be followed. Now that she is gone, when I feed Ashland he still looks up and about waiting for her to come around the corner and give him directions. The first few days after she died he didn't eat at all. He just laid in front of his bowl, looking side to side for his buddy. "She's gone" I'd tell him. "She's not coming back." Still though he waited. Eventually he felt better, as we all will.
This is the last picture I took of my girl, the one who would meet me at the car and allow to me to grab the scruff of her neck to steady myself while walking through snow and ice on the way up to the house. It was a hot day when I took this and she was resting in the shade by the swing all the gk's love to use. I knew then her time left on this farm was limited; I think she knew it too.
