shepherds among other breeds. Not believing the sheer magnitude of the mix, I tested her DNA again with a different company, and the results were nearly identical.
Emmie had been dumped at the local animal control in Branson, Missouri, with a broken leg, giardia, and hookworm infestation. By the time I’ d met her, she’ d undergone surgery and had pins in her leg. She was only 10 weeks old. Emmie’ s operation and / or her mandatory post-op crate rest were unsuccessful. When I took her to the vet post-adoption, I found out her leg had not been healing properly, the pins had migrated, and she would likely always have a“ bum leg,” which included a luxating patella on top of the large chunk of femur she’ d been missing due to the unknown injury. She wasn’ t a good candidate for additional procedures, but in hindsight, I wondered if I should’ ve gotten third and fourth opinions. Despite having to overcompensate most of her life by extending her hock to stand balanced, Emmie thrived. She loved running the fence when deer came too close, long walks and hikes, swimming wherever and whenever, and digging in spots specially chosen; you just never knew where those would be or when her mood would hit.
Agility and swimming were her beloved activities. We took numerous agility classes over many years, and despite her special needs, she loved it. The A-Frame was her favorite. I always ran her Preferred, which allowed her to participate at 4 inches below the standard for jumps for her height and tacked on 5 seconds of additional time to complete any course. We attended a couple of competitions, just to see, and Emmie would get the zoomies, and that was that. We stuck to our classes, and we loved our date nights, complete with a stop for a Pup Cup or French fries.
She told me she loved swimming while on a leash walk as an adolescent. I’ d absentmindedly tossed a stick into a stream, and she went in after it, dragging me with her. We had our usual swimming holes, and I’ d gather just the right sticks, the bigger the better. From shore, I’ d throw them out as far as I could into the water, and she’ d swim for them and bring them back until she was tired, which she let me know by promptly lying down and gnawing on the stick. She also loved to dry herself off whenever wet: I’ d lay down a towel and she’ d flop onto it and writhe around until she’ d scooted herself several feet off the towel
Em didn’ t really have any behaviors I found inappropriate; she was just a really cool dog, and her quirks were endearing. Although I could’ ve done without the random snout crotch-punching of passersby on our walks when in more crowded situations, but that would be nitpicking.
Considering whatever physical traumas she had as a very young puppy, she was very receptive to subsequent socialization and life skills training. She was very independent and never really exhibited any apparent signs of fear. In fact, she was a confident dog, modeled confidence for my other two rescue dogs, and served as a beacon of safety for them. As strong as she was, she was also sensitive to her body, which I assumed was the manifestation of her early trauma. If a fly landed on her, she instantly focused on its removal. I would know immediately if she had a minor scrape or lesion because she would tend to it obviously and often. She alerted me to the few hot spots she’ d had before I could even see or feel them present on her skin.
We tried several harnesses, but she was never comfortable with any of them, and even her collar had to be worn loosely. In general, she preferred not to be petted or touched, but on those rare occasions she wanted to cuddle or be petted, I was thrilled and eager to oblige. She did especially love darting under people’ s knees when they were seated( any person would do), and she would position herself so her lower back and bum would rub in said person’ s knee pit, and she would shimmy and dance“ petting herself” as it were. I loved it.
We always kept her strong, especially her bum leg, with exercise and at-home physical therapy and monitored for any changes with X-rays. She always took supplements and periodic pain meds. But as she aged, she would let me know when her leg was bothering her. For example, she started to slow down and look sheepishly at me toward the end of our walks. So, we shortened our walks and modified her meds. One afternoon, she had the zoomies after her bath as usual, and her leg gave out. We were fortunate to find an excellent vet, not only a Certified Veterinary Pain Practitioner( CVPP) and Certified Canine Rehabilitation Therapist( CCRT) but also a 5-year residency at the American College of Veterinary Sports Medicine. Emmie underwent an extensive rehab program for 10 weeks after it was determined she had tears in her CCL, or cranial cruciate ligament( the human equivalent of an ACL). Due to the composition and nature of her leg, she was not a good candidate for surgery.
I sought a specialist for her leg; should I have sought a specialist for her ears, too? Would having done so have yielded a different outcome? Considering her propensity towards sensitivity and acute body awareness, it didn’ t surprise me when she began scratching her one ear during what had become allergy season with a move to a new climate. But also, because of her acute body awareness, I should’ ve been more perceptive. Maybe I’ m just mad and sad and guilt-ridden and all the things we feel when our dogs die.
The APDT Chronicle of the Dog | Summer 2025 29