We lost your pups' godmom Tess in May to renal failure at the age of sixteen and a half. {Tess named Apu Peas an Hominey aka Shakka, & Apu Noom Lennyum aka Zero}

As she did with everything, she handled the whole ordeal with dignity and grace.  It was a long, slow process and we sustained her for a few months on daily subcutaneous fluids and shots of pepcid but she withered to 14 pounds and began to have seizures.  She had bouts of total confusion and blindness and we finally made the decision to let her go.  I still cannot write about those last two days and letting her go.  We miss her terribly.  Reno does too, although you can imagine how we now dote on him!!  He is now almost sixteen and incredibly sweet in his old age, as Tess was. We are savoring each day.

Tess came to us in 1994 as a wee pup at 8 weeks old.  I can only describe my connection with her by saying that we “recognized” each other.  From the moment we first made eye contact her expression of impish playfulness captured my heart.  I have always felt that she was one of those things in my life that was just meant to be.  When we brought her home, we turned her loose in our large den and she ran with abandon, bouncing off the sides of the couch because she was too small to jump onto it.  She continued to run and bounce for some time and the look on her tiny face was sheer joy.  It was as if she knew that she was home and her jubilation bubbled over into us and filled our hearts.  It stayed for sixteen and a half years.

Tess was extremely smart and fastidious and she house-trained in a snap. Our house held ample proof of her basenji-ness with chewed pillows and cushions, plucked carpeting and gnawed furniture. We learned that clothing was left lying around at its peril and bitter apple became our friend. By the time she was nearing a year old her playfulness was becoming a bit much for our three cats.  We began to realize that she needed a playmate that could meet her on her own terms and of course it had to be another basenji.  When we brought Reno home as a pup we were naturally nervous that she would accept him and get along with him.  We needn’t have worried!  She treated him as if he were her very own pup, cleaning his ears, snuggling with him and teaching him the ropes.  She showed him the finer points of “hunting” prey through the front picture window and chasing squirrels in the backyard. 

Unfortunately, their dynamic changed as Reno matured and began to assert himself.  Tess handled it all with self assured grace and rarely quibbled over toys and such.  It was interesting that she simply chose not to challenge him on many things because it was clear that she could kick his butt if she wanted to. 

Indeed on a rare occasion Reno would choose the wrong moment to assert himself and Tess would turn on him and back him right out of the room!  He tried to mount her exactly once, she put the smackdown on him and that was the end of that.  As much as Tess didn’t bother contesting things in the house, outside she ruled.  She would body slam Reno and he never challenged her.  Not ever.  Maybe he was intimidated by her hunting prowess as she could and did dispatch two squirrels and a skunk (yep. sigh..that was a long night) in the blink of an eye.

Tess aged with such sweetness and dignity that it tore at our hearts. Her impish expression gave way to a look of soulful intelligence that sometimes made me catch my breath.  As sweet as she was, she was equally tough and smart.  She had two anal gland abcesses that had to be lanced and finally one had to be removed.  She took it all stoically, tending the wounds herself without disturbing the stitches. She seemed to understand what was required for her to heal and we never had to keep a dreadful e-collar on her even when she was spayed as a pup.

Her kidney values were not wonderful for some years and we tried to slow the advancing renal failure with diet and such, but ultimately there was no stopping it.   Food was always a high priority with Tess and when her appetite began to slip we knew it meant trouble.  We began to administer subcutaneous fluids and pepcid injections, first weekly, then daily at the end and she took it all with quiet matter-of-factness.  She melted to 14 pounds and began to have seizures but still she showed amazing trust in us and seemed to know when we were trying to help her.   Mark says what he will remember the most about her is how much she trusted us.  I will remember the joy that she brought to us. 

Someone once said that if you speak to them from the heart and truly mean it, they will understand you.  I like to believe that is true and that she knew how loved she was and how much she meant to us. ……......................................…….........……..Karen & Mark Stotka