My husband and I adopted Knowie in August 2016 when her elderly owners were in failing and health and had to move to a nursing home. Knowie looked like she was probably a standard dachshund and border collie mix. She was mostly black with bright white on her throat, chest, face, and feet. Her hair was an inch to two inches long. She had the pointed dachshund nose, and her legs were shorter and her body longer. By the end of her life, she could only see things that were very close to her eyes and was almost deaf. Her sense of smell was still good, though. She was arthritic. She suffered from a heart murmur and congestive heart failure, which we couldn't treat because medications for each would worsen the other condition.
Even after Knowie lost most of her vision and hearing, her sense of smell was still pretty darn good. She loved to eat raw tomatoes, and she could still smell them when I cut them up in the kitchen. She would stand next to me, wagging her tail, waiting for me to hand her some of the tomato.
Knowie was one of those dogs who lived for food, and goodness help anyone who got in her way at mealtime. She was most excited at mealtime and when we returned home, maybe because she knew she would get a dog biscuit then. She would bark while I got all the dogfood bowls ready and would only stop when I used the word "enough"; maybe that was the word her previous owners used. Once she had lost most of her sight, she got crabby toward our other dogs and snapped when they crowded her; the others learned quickly to not get too close, especially to her face.
Knowie followed me everywhere in the house and would get upset if she couldn't find me. She was okay if she saw me go outside or leave the house. When she was happy, she wagged her tail like no other dog I have seen. She held her tail low and wagged it in very short, fast arcs. She didn't use her tail to express any other emotions.
The veterinarian who looked after her health for the last 11 years said Knowie had some type of sudden cerebral accident or possibly a tumor. I was with her when it started, and it was awful for her and for me. Whatever went wrong, it affected her quickly and drastically. There was likely no recovery from it, so we made the decision to let her go. I will miss that goofy little girl Knowie.
Even after Knowie lost most of her vision and hearing, her sense of smell was still pretty darn good. She loved to eat raw tomatoes, and she could still smell them when I cut them up in the kitchen. She would stand next to me, wagging her tail, waiting for me to hand her some of the tomato.
Knowie was one of those dogs who lived for food, and goodness help anyone who got in her way at mealtime. She was most excited at mealtime and when we returned home, maybe because she knew she would get a dog biscuit then. She would bark while I got all the dogfood bowls ready and would only stop when I used the word "enough"; maybe that was the word her previous owners used. Once she had lost most of her sight, she got crabby toward our other dogs and snapped when they crowded her; the others learned quickly to not get too close, especially to her face.
Knowie followed me everywhere in the house and would get upset if she couldn't find me. She was okay if she saw me go outside or leave the house. When she was happy, she wagged her tail like no other dog I have seen. She held her tail low and wagged it in very short, fast arcs. She didn't use her tail to express any other emotions.
The veterinarian who looked after her health for the last 11 years said Knowie had some type of sudden cerebral accident or possibly a tumor. I was with her when it started, and it was awful for her and for me. Whatever went wrong, it affected her quickly and drastically. There was likely no recovery from it, so we made the decision to let her go. I will miss that goofy little girl Knowie.
My husband and I adopted Knowie in August 2016 when her elderly owners were in failing and health and had to move to a nursing home. Knowie looked like she was probably a standard dachshund and border collie mix. She was mostly black with bright white on her throat, chest, face, and feet. Her hair was an inch to two inches long. She had the pointed dachshund nose, and her legs were shorter and her body longer. By the end of her life, she could only see things that were very close to her eyes and was almost deaf. Her sense of smell was still good, though. She was arthritic. She suffered from a heart murmur and congestive heart failure, which we couldn't treat because medications for each would worsen the other condition.
Even after Knowie lost most of her vision and hearing, her sense of smell was still pretty darn good. She loved to eat raw tomatoes, and she could still smell them when I cut them up in the kitchen. She would stand next to me, wagging her tail, waiting for me to hand her some of the tomato.
Knowie was one of those dogs who lived for food, and goodness help anyone who got in her way at mealtime. She was most excited at mealtime and when we returned home, maybe because she knew she would get a dog biscuit then. She would bark while I got all the dogfood bowls ready and would only stop when I used the word "enough"; maybe that was the word her previous owners used. Once she had lost most of her sight, she got crabby toward our other dogs and snapped when they crowded her; the others learned quickly to not get too close, especially to her face.
Knowie followed me everywhere in the house and would get upset if she couldn't find me. She was okay if she saw me go outside or leave the house. When she was happy, she wagged her tail like no other dog I have seen. She held her tail low and wagged it in very short, fast arcs. She didn't use her tail to express any other emotions.
The veterinarian who looked after her health for the last 11 years said Knowie had some type of sudden cerebral accident or possibly a tumor. I was with her when it started, and it was awful for her and for me. Whatever went wrong, it affected her quickly and drastically. There was likely no recovery from it, so we made the decision to let her go. I will miss that goofy little girl Knowie.
Even after Knowie lost most of her vision and hearing, her sense of smell was still pretty darn good. She loved to eat raw tomatoes, and she could still smell them when I cut them up in the kitchen. She would stand next to me, wagging her tail, waiting for me to hand her some of the tomato.
Knowie was one of those dogs who lived for food, and goodness help anyone who got in her way at mealtime. She was most excited at mealtime and when we returned home, maybe because she knew she would get a dog biscuit then. She would bark while I got all the dogfood bowls ready and would only stop when I used the word "enough"; maybe that was the word her previous owners used. Once she had lost most of her sight, she got crabby toward our other dogs and snapped when they crowded her; the others learned quickly to not get too close, especially to her face.
Knowie followed me everywhere in the house and would get upset if she couldn't find me. She was okay if she saw me go outside or leave the house. When she was happy, she wagged her tail like no other dog I have seen. She held her tail low and wagged it in very short, fast arcs. She didn't use her tail to express any other emotions.
The veterinarian who looked after her health for the last 11 years said Knowie had some type of sudden cerebral accident or possibly a tumor. I was with her when it started, and it was awful for her and for me. Whatever went wrong, it affected her quickly and drastically. There was likely no recovery from it, so we made the decision to let her go. I will miss that goofy little girl Knowie.
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