THE BRIGHT BLUE SKY
Our brave and beautiful Bright Blue Sky fell asleep for ever on 14th January.
She would have continued to fight on with typical Glen stoicism, if we had let her. But we loved her too much for that. She told us when it was time.
Such precious time. Almost nine amazing years. Sky was so exceptional, we hoped she would buck the trend and live to an exceptionally grand old age. I imagined her making old bones back home in Ireland a decade from now, sleeping her last sleep beside the fire after a leisurely amble among the bluebells. Sky was a spring baby.
One of Sky's relatives (same parents, different litter) died a few days before she did, at 12 years of age. Many Glens live longer. There is no rhyme nor reason to it.
Sky gave us so many magical moments. Our first walk together in Ireland, as the horses raced on the beach at Laytown in the late summer sun. We were delirious with joy and overwhelmed with love. She healed our childlessness in a heartbeat.
Glens - or specifically Glendas - make wonderful parents. Sky was a doting mother and grandma. We fondly remember the day she waddled purposefully into the kitchen to thoughtfully select a toy from the puppy pen, before taking it outside to entertain Clodagh's rambunctious puppies. Gentle yet firm, she spent hours with them.
And we are eternally grateful for Sky's extraordinary litter, born on 19th January 2018. We treasure the film of her leading the puppies around the garden, like Night With Her Train of Stars.
Sky died on my mum's birthday, which is bittersweet. We heard the news that Mum's close maternal aunt had also died on her birthday, just as Sky delivered her first puppy under the kitchen table.
Sky truly was perfection on four paws. We were flattered when people encouraged us to show her. But we didn't need prizes to know how special she was. Magnificently large for her gender, Sky had real physical presence. She could hold a pose and was at her most beautiful when simply standing still. Yet she moved with a spring in her step. Some dogs walk tall, but Sky always walked happy.
Intelligent and intuitive, Sky was easy from the get-go. Borderline telepathic, she just knew stuff without being told. Like most Glen of Imaal terriers, she was a dog with an old soul. And an extensive vocabulary. I'll miss conversing with her.
Sky's best friend in the whole world was Twiggy, a smaller-than-average Border terrier. That diminutive dog could start a donnybrook in church. Twiggy would often open her own garden gate and take a wander up the road to our place. They played happily together with obvious affection, despite the discrepancy in size.
Sky's one true love was Mutley, a larger-than-life wheaten Glen and the only male to surpass her in stature. Whenever they met, Sky would be unseasonably flirtatious, with an extra bounce to her waddle. Imagine Je t’aime as the soundtrack. We like to think they are together again.
Sky's coat was an exquisite moody blue, like a storm rolling in across Lugnaquilla. I was slightly in awe of her, partly because she was a rare breed. But mostly because she was so eye-catching.
However mundane the walk, I felt obliged to dress apt and up. A sky-blue frock in summer. Jumpers in fifty shades of grey. And a pale blue cashmere scarf, once worn to totter aimlessly in heels around Mayfair, now consigned to trudge with purpose through Norfolk mud, along with an old Jigsaw tweed suit and navy Hunters. All to compliment my beautiful dog.
Oh yes, I walked a little taller with Sky by my side.
Now I feel like Jack Nicholson's emotionally-repressed character in As Good As It Gets. The scene where he sits at the piano and sobs his heart out, before declaring incredulously: 'Over a dog...'
Sky was as good as it gets. She was the sun, the moon and the stars. How lucky we were to have her. Sleep tight, darling girl.
Nevis St Kitts | Nevision | Manolo
January 2023 - Norfolk, UK
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