TheBanyanTree: Shepherd

[Roger Pye]

In January 1995 my life as a woodworker was a shambles; a long term 
relationship had broken up and I was staying with friends near Braidwood 
in the southern tablelands of NSW whilst I put together a workshop and 
also searched for somewhere to live. The place I had chosen for a 
workshop was an old barn on an even older farm on the fringe of town and 
it was where I spent most of my time for the next two months laying a 
wooden floor and making the building reasonably secure. Opposite the 
barn across a narrow dusty track was a long leanto affair packed with 
the sorts of things which pile up over time - car parts, horseshoes, 
bags of feed or fertiliser, hay bales, bric-a-brac, junk. In one of the 
bays and directly opposite the door to my workshop space had been made 
by the farmer for a young German Shepherd bitch which lived next door 
and the puppies in her first litter.  Most of these were content to stay 
within the confines of the leanto but one seemed always to be outside 
it, sitting in the middle of the track, staring at my door. Every day 
soon after I arrived to begin work she would appear, sit down and stay 
there, watching, for most of the time until I left in the afternoon. It 
was inevitable, I suppose, that one day I would speak to her owner and 
she would become mine.

	I called her Lucy because the name seemed to fit and soon she became my 
constant companion, occupying the passenger seat in my utility when I 
was driving and sleeping in the trayback if I stopped anywhere for any 
length of time.Within a month or so I was caretaking a farm twenty 
kilometres from town and it was there in June that I had a nervous 
breakdown. Lucy watched over me with unvarying intensity as I stumbled 
through the after effects which included loss of memory.

	In November of that year I went to live on the south side of Jindabyne 
with the woman who, two years later, would become my wife. Robin had a 
five year old Australian Silky Terrier called Dylan Thomas and I 
remember thinking the first time I drove the 200 kms to her house 
whether Lucy and Dinny would get on with each other and what I could do 
if they did not hit it off. I need not have worried - when the ute 
stopped and I opened the door Lucy leaped out to greet Dinny and he 
spent the next hour chasing her round in circles!

	The years passed and so did situations. From Jindabyne we moved to a 
sheep farm near Berridale where Lucy spent her days on the front 
verandah of our rented cottage (if we weren't going anywhere) and her 
nights inside with us. She mothered  Dinny and our cats and us as well, 
obsessing whenever one or another of us was away. In 2001 we left the 
country, moving to Canberra so Robin could complete her PhD, and Lucy 
exchanged wide open acreage for a small back garden. She took it all in 
her stride.

	Two years ago after a series of strokes Dinny went to that big garden 
in the sky where he romps and plays and sleeps now. Lucy became very 
distraught at his passing and after a week or so we began looking for 
another companion for her - and our three cats. The companion came along 
in the form of a 6 month old Yorkshire Terrier who we called Miss Ruby. 
Smaller though she was than two of the cats she still bossed Lucy about 
and the two were almost always together.

	 Last Thursday at about 5.30 in the morning Lucy suffered a huge 
stroke, lost the use of her hips and back legs and became very confused. 
There was very little we could do but keep her quiet and comfortable 
until the vet hospital opened at 8am and it was apparent by then that 
her kidneys weren't functioning properly if at all. At 8.15 she went to 
sleep with my hands upon her and a light went out of my life.

	For 12 years she graced us with her presence, I would swear she 
understood every word we said whether to her or each other as she 
watched over us, guarded us and our possessions.  Everywhere I look in 
the garden and the house, I see her and I understand very well the 
discomfort of Miss Ruby when she races outside to be with her big furry 
friend only to find she isn't there.
	
God bless you, Lucy. thank you for everything,

roger