Jedda, my 9 year old Australian Terrier, today lost her "Golden Glow". That was her kennel name when we got her. Born on ANZAC day, she was as tough as they come, but it appears that liver cancer is tougher.
Jedda was vivacious, anarchic, over-the-top with a lust for life that sometimes left you speechless - or at least hoarse from yelling at her. She loved nothing more than a long walk, however there was never a walk long enough or with enough new friends, both human and canine, to meet, nor was the car ride short enough to get there. Until proven otherwise, Jedda approached every new person or dog as a potential friend, with her tail wagging and her eyes bright. If proven otherwise, she was a terrier through and through and would take on any dog, no matter how big.
She was a challenge at times, headstrong and feisty. We all have bites from trying to do something to her that she didn't like, such as cutting her nails. When meal times came around, or the lead was produced for a walk, she would bounce up and down until the plate was in front of her or the lead on her collar. You always knew she was around at dinner time. At least until last week.
The only saving grace was that the progression was quick, and we got a few hours to spend with her at the vet's before she was taken from us, both literally and metaphorically.