On the Loss of a Friend and Relentless Optimist

A great sadness has fallen on our farm. Our beloved border collie, Lily, passed away Monday, with little warning, at the age of 12 years.

She was diagnosed just a week prior with canine malignant lymphoma, a disease whose proper name we cannot dignify with capitalization. It moved with breath-taking speed. Saturday afternoon she was still trotting and playing ball. By Sunday she was down, and by late Monday, she was gone. The rain stopped, and the clouds cleared as she passed, but she is gone nonetheless. 

The sadness comes not only from watching a trusted friend suffer, but in the loss of a buoyant spirit from the world. Many dogs are wonderful companions, as was Lily, and Rocket and CJ before her, but not many have her pure athleticism and intellect. What made her so special was her burning desire to share her abilities with anyone she met, and her irrepressible optimism that everyone, and I mean everyone, was a potential playmate.

She was a master of the tennis ball, doing backflips, reading tricky bounces and making flying catches that would make a major leaguer proud. As good as she was with a tennis ball, she was a virtuoso with a soccer ball. At a flat out run, she would scoop it from the ground with her nose, toss it in the air as many as three times, and joyfully return it to her playmate. She played catch, tipping the ball back and forth with a snap of her teeth each time, never wanting to stop. Kick a soccer ball in the air, and she would wait under it, taking a moment to do a quick spin as it fell towards her, simply because there were a few seconds to fill, and they deserved a little joyful flourish. When we participated in the Loudoun County Farm Tour, she was the star, doing four shows daily and inspiring repeat visitors who came back to “see Lily play”. A Mom with three young sons came back a year after meeting Lily, with plush border collie toys, all named after her. Early on, we took her to an amateur dog competition that starred a local Frisbee dog. Lily swept the field and won the hearts of the crowd with her mastery of the soccer ball. She was a jock and the popular kid, all rolled into one. 

We knew that Lily was up to her tricks when a guest on our farm would walk up and say “I taught your dog a game! When I make a shadow, she chases it!” Upon questioning, we always found out what had really happened…Lily had played her game, and taught the visitor how to join in. It always started the same way. Lily would stand near our guest, make eye contact and then look down at the shadow of the person’s hand. When the person moved their hand, the shadow would move, and Lily would pounce on it, like a fox on a mouse. Appropriately trained, the person would now begin to move their arm and hand, and Lily would gleefully pounce on the shadow, again and again. It happened time after time after time, with guests at our B&B or workmen visiting the farm. One tech with the local utility even told Rebecca, “I watch for repair tickets on your farm so I can come out and play with your dog.” That is remarkable, but it’s the impact she had.

So, to say we miss Lily is both true and insufficient. We certainly feel a hole in our hearts where a trusted and loyal companion once was. But we also mourn the passing of a buoyant, joyful spirit, and her relentless optimism. We cannot count the number of times that we were engaged in something that required our full attention (like moving a piano or handling a kettle of boiling water) when a tennis ball would come rolling into the center of our work…or the times that we would be relaxing on the porch, only to realize that we were being stared at by Lily, who was seated next to a tennis ball and chuck-it, positively affirming her belief that we would rise to the challenge and do the right thing and throw the ball for her yet again. It was heartening, and at times maddening, but more than anything, it was just so completely irrepressible. It was a great privilege to be viewed in that way.

We could all do with more of that, I think. Knowing that there is a bit less relentless joy in the world today, is a reason to be sad, for a little while, anyway. I know it’s trite, but maybe the game that we should play now is “What would Lily do?’ I think she would find a ball and press on, with a spring in her step, and clear purpose in her eye. 

Maybe tomorrow.

Dennis and Rebecca Brouwer are dog-lovers who live on Shepherds Corner Farm near Purcellville, VA, with their two dogs, Walter and Molly.