After three thousand, seven hundred and eighty six posts this concludes Miss Poppy’s blog.
For over ten years Poppy and I collaborated on documenting her and her family’s life.
She died this afternoon, in her home, in the arms of the family to which she devoted her entire life, with that compleat measure of devotion that dogs instinctively give.
She was the consistent linchpin of our family.
She always there to comfort us, especially when our ability to generate internal comfort was sometimes quite depleted.
And she was always there to celebrate our successes.
Whether it was Niamh’s dance scholarships.
Or Zita’s graduation,
Or Emmet’s several graduations.
Or my final final retirement.
(Now I always expected that Poppy too would receive her PhD, having listened to innumerable papers being edited and presented. )
Miss Poppy delighted in celebrations;
She loved singing Happy Birthday with us,
She loved being the designated hostess for all our dinner parties,
She loved her good morning to everybody walks,
And visiting her friends the ducks in our far pond.
She was the very best helper when it was time to open presents.
So naturally Christmas was her very favourite time of year.
She especially loved receiving the string wrapped parcels from Ireland.
And she survived cancer twice.
From the day Poppy was big enough to look out the front windows that was her place.
Nothing happened on our corner that was not witnessed and commented upon. Loudly.
This was her family home and woe betide anyone or anything who challenged that.
But Poppy hated suitcases.
She knew that their appearance foretold the disappearance of some part of her family.
When Zita would be off visiting family in Ireland Poppy would take over her spot on our bed.
When Emmet first went off to graduate school Poppy would go downstairs and lay on the bed, her head on his pillows.
But she could never quite understand FaceTime and on hearing Emmet’s voice she would run to her “watching window” to await his appearance.
When Niamh was travelling hither and yon Poppy would look down the stairs to check to see if she was back home yet.
Home was, in her opinion the only place her family should be. Not in various far away places.
In that I am afraid we were a continuing trial to her.
Her family was always, always her main and constant preoccupation.
Most every morning for twelve years Poppy and I shared our toast while we looked out her window at the passing world.
My mornings shall be quite boring for a while I am afraid.
She was in very conceivable way integral to our family life and her absence will create a void that will never be filled.
She was big, she was noisy, she was opinionated, she was happy and gregarious,
She was always funny and so very very smart.
She loved having friends over, she relished her role as Zita’s sous chef.
And of course she was stubborn, after all she was a Bouvier.
She was fiercely brave, never failing to put herself between her family and what she perceived as danger.
And she loved her family without constraint and we loved her back.
We are, as you might expect devastated. There is no other way to describe it.
She was the very best dog our family could have possibly imagined, and what we will do next is entirely opaque to all of us.
But I promised her that we would get another Bouvier, when we have had time to heal.
And who would break their promise to such a friend?
To all of you, from many unlikely places, who followed her adventures, thank you for your time and support, even that one follower in the Kremlin.
I always told her about all of your comments and I am absolutely convinced that Poppy in her own way knew appreciated it.
So we thank each of you so very very much.
All our love, Craig, Zita, Emmet, Niamh and of course Miss Poppy.
Ar dheis Dé go raibh a n-anamacha.
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