Brisby, our senior dog, passed away last week. Readers of my Sleeping between Giants book and followers of the SbG blog know Brisby as Nature’s Perfect Schnoodle—lovely with people, and the self-appointed Mafia don of neighborhood dogs. Brisby was 14 years old.
Sweet, affable, and gentle, he was master of all he surveyed from the red wingback chair by the front window. No dog passed without a stern warning that this was Schnoodle turf.
Brisby’s rise to power came swift and unexpected. As a young apprentice dog under Oxford, a cunning and self-assured Terrier thing, Brisby’s job was to follow orders and not ask questions. When Oxford passed suddenly and Budleigh was brought into the family, Brisby was thrust into leadership, ascending to Oxford’s red chair and instructing the new terrier which neighborhood dogs were to be trusted. None.
Brisby was our tough, loveable little Eddie G. He filled his days barking, sleeping, and making rounds of our home to check that everyone was where they should be. And barking. I like to think he found this a satisfying work/life balance.
Here’s a past column about Brisby titled “Bully for Budleigh” that I wanted to share. He was, as they say, a Good Dog.
Oh, did I mentioned that I’m devastated?
Be well, Giants and Canines all!