Letting my dog Digger go

A dog is so much more than a pet to me. They are a companion, comforter, foot-warmer, they amuse, they keep you fit. Digger was with me through some major events in my life, and I was very sad to see him go last month. At the age of 12 years, he had an average innings for a spaniel, but longer than any of us expected considering his health issues.

Digger was a Welsh Springer Spaniel. He started out life a rich red colour, full of beans and with his nose permanently attached to the ground (it was rather a big nose). As a puppy he was forever trying to keep up with working dogs, but was most remembered for walking straight into tanks and walls when he was on a scent. 

From the age of six months he saw me through a pretty hard year, which would have been a lot harder without him. We had some good moments though. He got lots of runs on the beach chasing seagulls, and had regular walks in the hills. He would sit on my balcony, watching people play AFL in the park below, and watch his ball bounce down the stairs before fetching it again. My favourite memory is our road trip around Queensland and New South Wales, camping in state forests, reserves or campgrounds. He learnt to 'look', which led to much excitement when he jumped up to look out the front windscreen at emus and kangaroos.

After that year I went overseas, and stayed over there on and off for a long time. Digger went to live with my mum on the farm, which was the end of his being well-groomed and trained. After he buried a few of the neighbour's chooks in shallow graves (he didn't eat them), mum had to put chicken wire around her entire 10 acre block. He then happily resigned himself to chasing the wild ducks on the dams, which he never caught.

Digger was a quiet dog. He never really barked until he went to live with my mum and her dog Sasha. Sasha is a Border Collie who thinks that any form of machinery won't start unless she barks. Once it has started she trots off satisfied. Digger just barked at Sasha. While they were still both young, they rumbled all the time. He checked under Sasha's tail every day, always in hope, even though they were both desexed.

At about six years old, Digger started losing the hair on his stomach, his red hair started going white, and he lost all his energy. He had an underactive thyroid and spent the rest of his life on medication. From the age of nine he had to take steroids to take away the pain of pinched nerves due to lost cartilage between the vertebrae in his neck and arthritis in his knees.

My new pup Bailey adored Digger, much to Digger's annoyance, who didn't hesitate to put him in his place. Digger went out with a bang, spending the day running around the farm following the tractor. He passed away during the night, we suspect due to a heart attack. Even though he lived with mum for longer than he lived with me, he holds a special place in my memories, and I hope he's much more comfortable now.