Find out more about my book, The Silver Swan: In Search of Doris Duke, now available in paperback.
There are almost more snapshots of dogs than of people in her at the Rubenstein Library at Duke University: dogs sitting, sleeping, rolling, lolling in the arms of her lover Joey Castro.
Acquaintances who visiting Duke Farms, riding in the front seat of the old black Buick Doris drove, had to deal with dogs in the back seat who sometimes spent the drive licking the passengers’ necks.
Outside her bedroom in that enormous house, a concrete porch enclosed with fencing was reserved for her dogs, with a special entrance into her bedroom. I feel quite certain that whoever came to see her in that bedroom would have had to deal with the attentions of all those dogs.
But today I find myself in complete sympathy with Doris’ passion, even with the uncomfortable assumption that dogs are sometimes better companions than complicated, changeable humans.
My dog Rose died today, eaten up with cancer. I told the vet not to wake her from the anesthesia of the exploratory operation.
By now, the overdose he administered has stopped her heart.
I didn’t go to sit in the waiting room at the veterinarian’s; she would not have known I was there. Next will be the little sack of ashes, and a hole in the sunny space where she loved to lie and sunbathe, especially these last days when she was full of pain.
We had twelve good years together. Years of daily hikes, which she adored, hurrying ahead of me up mountain paths here in the Southern Rockies; days of waiting patiently for the chew sticks she always expected as treats, morning and evening; moments of ear pulling and neck rubbing and belly patting, when she would roll over in ecstasy…
I can’t ask for anything more.
Now that she has gone, so efficiently and swiftly, all I can do is get rid of her worn old bed and her food bowl, and try to prepare for my first night alone without the snufflings and snorings that accompanied my bouts of insomnia, without the gradually dimming eyes that stared with such profound strangeness into my face, as though she was even beyond asking questions as I am beyond providing answers.
Jan Winter on Facebook says
Oh Sallie, I am so very sorry about your loss of sweet Rose. Somehow, a dog finds a place in our heart perfectly her-sized.
Carolyn Charlene Lewis on Facebook says
Beautiful tribute to Sallie’s dog, Rose. RIP
Debbie Jeffries Reece on Facebook says
For those of us who have also been blessed with furry friends unconditional love and have bid them farewell, so sorry for your loss. What a lovely tribute.
Donna Jo Thorndale on Facebook says
My heart is with you. Farewell, Rose.
Bonnie Lee Black on Facebook says
Oh, Sallie, I’m so sorry. I lost my sweet Blue last September after twelve precious years together. I still miss him — especially keenly when I wake in the night and reach to pat and pet him and listen for his purr. I so empathize with what you’re going through right now. — Love, Bonnie Lee Black
Nathaniel Hesse on Facebook says
So sorry for your loss,Rose was a Great dog and friend,
Teri Hackler on Facebook says
What happened to Rose, Sallie?
Charlie Bennett on Facebook says
So sorry about your loss. It’s always hard to loose the unconditional love of a dog. I suspect that if they were aware of their own finality they wouldn’t be so keen on putting up with us humans.