RIP: Trinket - the Demon Corgi
Many of you who have been friends of mine on LJ for the past 3 years know I have rescue dogs - four and a squatter.
Thursday, at about 1:30 in the afternoon, our second oldest girl, Trinket the Demon Corgi, passed away suddenly in my mother’s arms.
I wanted to share Trinket’s story since many of you have come to know her as the inspiration for Janet the Corgi in Tales of the Tardishire, the reason I often use a Corgi as an analogy for Gwen, and my mini-defender who would bite AISDW on the ankles. I also wanted to share her story because she would not have lived - would not have gifted us with 12 wonderful years - if not for a dog rescue. Her story - while sad for the moment - actually had a happy ending.
In 1999, Trinket was found cut up in a large trash bin in the mountains of NC. She was likely five or six weeks old. One of the reasons we called her the Demon Corgi is that her eyes would flash green. It’s possible that she was born into a superstitious home and she scared the people. I prefer to think that than to believe that people really can just be that evil.
Whatever Trinket went through as a puppy scarred her. We have pictured from the rescue agency of her - barely the size of Ty but with eyes glowing and teeth barred having run a large boxer off his pillow.
My sister was looking to rescue a dog at the time and had gone to the agency to see another pup, but she met Trinket and fell in love.
The rescue agency was actually planning to put her down because she was too aggressive to adopt. My sister had to sign a waiver to take her.
For months, using food and gentle coaxing, she won Trinket’s trust. I visited once when Trinket was about a year old but never saw her. She spent my whole visit hiding under the sofa growling.
In the fall of 2001, shortly after 9/11, my parents had to put down their two dogs - 14 and 13 - within weeks of each other. They were empty nesters in the truest sense of the word. That Christmas, when my sister came home, she brought Trinket. The little dog that didn’t trust anyone took one look at my mother, jumped on her lap, and never left. My sister swore Mom had put bacon behind her ears.
Due to an issue with her landlord and a heavy travel schedule, my sister left Trinket with my parents after that visit. She was supposed to stay a couple of months, but when my sister came to get her she would not leave my mom or my dad. Dad used to carry her everywhere they went to keep her warm inside his jacket if it was cold, to keep her off the hot pavement if it was overly warm, or just to keep her safe if she was scared.
She still hated me - bit me every time I would visit so I wasn’t too fond of her either.
In March of 2003, my father had a massive stroke. He spent six months in the hospital and rehab as infections and other issues attacked his weakened body. At night, my mother could only be coaxed home by knowing that Trinket needed her.
Dad came home briefly in August 2003 before suffering a second stroke and passing away a week later, on August 29.
With so many people coming and going in the house, Mom was worried about Trinket, but rather than nip at ankles she just curled up on the sofa behind mom’s head and stayed.
It was April of 2004 before I could sort my own affairs - I’d purchased a condo in the Spring of 2002 and needed to find a renter - and move home permanently to take care of Mom. During that time, the nights I wasn’t there, I knew mom would eat because Trinket would make her. At 7:00, she'd bark and pull at mom’s clothes until she made dinner. At 10, it was time for a snack, and at 11, she was ready for bed.
When I finally did return home, I spent the better part of six months sure I would find the dog at my throat. Apparently, the only thing I did right in that time was bring her Ares - a black lab puppy she immediately adopted despite the fact that he would eventually grow to five times her size.
Over time, Trinket warmed to me and allowed me to pet her then eventually hold her. She loved to walk on the beach with me after we relocated in 2005. She forgave me for the two other interlopers into her domain - Sophie and Cocoa - and came to love them, too. She herded the group of them even though collectively they made up 10 of her.
When the squatters moved in, we worried about how Trinket would react to squatter baby later squatter toddler. We need not have. She let that child do just about anything to her but dress her up in clothes - and I’m sure if they’d had more time that was inevitable.
She guarded that baby fiercely and would run off both squatters if they were being careless - she trusted Mom and me with the baby, not them. She would sink her teeth into AISDW’s ankles whenever he acted like a bully.
About four years ago, our vet found that Trinket had a heart murmur. We were never sure if it was actually that or a growth in her chest. She had to be sedated for routine exams. Xrays and other procedures would have been torture for her. The vet had her on medication that gradually increased over the years, but she was comfortable, as active and sassy as ever, and ate like a horse as late as Wednesday night.
Mom and I always said that when Trinket stopped eating, we would know there was a problem. She’d not shown any increasing severity in her symptoms but Thursday morning she would not take her medication - which Mom wrapped in deli turkey- or eat anything else. She also didn’t follow the big dogs out into the yard, instead staying close to Mom all day.
Mom was sitting in her rocking chair when Trinket nudge her to be petted. She then curled up under the table next to Mom’s chair and within a few minutes her breathing started to slow. Mom heard it, picked her up, and yelled for me. By the time I got to them, Trinket wasn’t breathing at all. She’d just stopped. Her death though was very much like her life - she did it on her terms and spared us a decision we knew was coming just not this soon. Of all the dogs we’ve had in my life - and I never remember having fewer than two - she was the only one we did not have to make a choice for. She spared us that.
Mom and I are still both quite stunned. The house is too quiet - Trinket was a barker and instigator. The other dogs keep looking for her. We miss the little monster nipping at us to feed her or glaring if we did something she did not like.
I want to thank
cazmalfoy,
bookwrm89, and
cjharknessgirl for their support and kindness.
My last thought is that animal rescue agencies around the world need more help now than ever before. Because of such an agency, we had Trinket in our lives for 12 wonderful years and we still have Chewie (the squatter dog), Ares, Sophie, and Cocoa. If you can give to a rescue agency - money, time, supplies, fostering, or adopting - consider it.
I spent a lot of time not really liking Demon Corgi, but then I fell in love with her and she with me I think. Now she’s gone, and there’s a Corgi-size whole in my heart.
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