I count only the sunny hours."
Queenie lived by what you might call the Sundial Philosophy. She was the Queen of positive thinking! She was a stray picked up by Williamson County Animal Control in November of 2008. At at least 10 or 11 years old (if not older), she was really one of those classic old Golden train wrecks who, incredibly, stay perky, upbeat and optimistic. She had one huge tumor and a bunch of smaller ones on her tummy, an olive-size growth at the corner of one eye, too many other lumps and bumps and skin tags to count, and a hairless rat tail. Her fur was so thin that you could see bare skin-all covered with dark spots like a cheetah-everywhere. She was loaded with ticks and fleas. Her top and bottom teeth were worn down to nubs. She had the worst ear infections Dr Stried had ever seen, and her earflaps were so thickened they always stuck out, giving her an adorable "Flying Nun" appearance that totally matched her jaunty nature. Her elbows were big and knobby from arthritis. And she was about 25 pounds overweight on top of everything else. Dr Stried took off as many lumps as he could and sent Queenie home with Margo; but very shortly after that she came to our house for respite care over Thanksgiving. This promptly turned into a permanent arrangement. Usually it's me who wants to keep everyone who walks through the door, but this time Eric fell in love within about 24 hours. Who could resist? Queenie had a killer smile and Personality Plus. She was exuberant, outgoing, sometimes bratty, ever cheerful, and always looking for her next adventure or newest friend. Soon she had a royal purple collar, a royal purple lead, and a royal purple heart-shaped tag with our name and address on it.

I still remember just laughing at the sight of her on the day she arrived. Her big old blocky head looked small, because her back was as broad as a coffee table. She was SO fat! Eric nicknamed her "Bronko Negurski" and "Bruiser Kowalski" and she really could mow down anything in her path, just like a powerhouse football player. Even after she trimmed down to a svelte 84 pounds, I used to have to flatten myself against the kitchen cabinets to keep from being trampled when she was heading for her food bowl! I have larkspur growing in my backyard every spring in a big patch; the other dogs circled around it, but Queenie would march straight through, like James Bond driving his tank down the street in "Goldeneye," and also made herself a large wallowing area of smashed plants right in the middle of it. "Invincible" was her middle name. Well, that and "demanding." If she wanted something, by golly she was going to get it.

Over time Queenie's ears cleared up and she lost weight and became totally beautiful. She grew in a thick soft coat of the most gorgeous, shiny, dark red fur and got curly pantaloons and a plumy tail. She was always a little bit rickety but she started moving a lot better and going for longer walks, which was wonderful for her, because she LOVED meeting people of all sizes. She would smile and wag her tail and soak up all the attention she could get.

Last year she tore her knee. Since this happened during a vigorous game of bitey-leg with Mulder, during which she triumphed by knocking his hind feet out from under him and tipping him flat on his hiney, she might have said it was worth it. We did not do surgery and the knee slowly got better on its own. "Don't let her pivot around," said our vet Leanne. Some hope! When her meals were prepared there was no way to keep Queenie from twirling around faster than a life preserver speeding downriver toward Niagara Falls.

Queenie had an incredible sense of smell. Eric always gives the dogs a little handful of kibbles as a bedtime snack and scatters them around on the floor. Queenie tracked them down like a high-speed vac cleaner and would effortlessly lift the orthopedic foam bed with her snout to find any lone kibble that had slid beneath. She looked just like the Incredible Hulk flipping a car over as if it were a shoebox! Then one day Eric had her out walking and she spotted a young lady getting out of her car & pulled like a steam train to get there. "How sad," thought Eric. "She sees someone who reminds her of her former owner." However, the REAL reason for Queenie's interest soon became clear, as the lady leaned back into her car and extracted a large pizza in its box. Q had scented a "prey item" from across the street and was intent on getting a slice. Eric just about fell over laughing.

It took Queenie a while to decide she could venture out of the family room, and we always wondered if maybe wherever she lived before she was only allowed in one room in the house? First, she worked up the nerve to come into my office. I'd see her little face looking around the doorway & she'd be stamping her feet nervously. Then she'd gather up her courage and burst through the door like she was leaping the Grand Canyon! But at first, even when we put the lead on her and encouraged her to walk down the hall, she balked and parked herself like the Rock of Gibraltar. Then, one day, she suddenly decided it was "safe." After that, her favorite thing to do was look out the window in Eric's office while resting her head on the sill and giving herself a good chin scratch, somehow chipping off paint in the process, apparently with her fangs. From her vantage point, she could sound the alarm if any squirrel, cat, dog, or pedestrian came into view. She could even spot cats hiding under cars across the street. One time we went to investigate. Queenie crept up as stealthily as it's possible for a very large dog to do, but of course blew any marginal element of surprise by barking as she approached. That high-pitched "Oink! Oink! Oink!" sent Kitty speeding off and disappearing over the closest fence. Queenie was quite vexed.
Only two things scared Queenie: car rides and thunderstorms. If she got an inkling that a car ride was coming, she would lie down and molecularly fuse with the pavement. To get her in, we used to have to sneak up on her, each grab one end, and bundle her in as if we were kidnapping her. Poor Queenie! As for storms, nothing really helped. Perelandra ETS drops had a big effect for a short while, but then stopped working. Xanax made her ten times MORE stressed. Then we tried a Thundershirt. Wrapped snugly in her shirt, she looked chic and adorable, but it made absolutely no difference to her anxiety level. As is always the case with our dogs, her phobia was worse when storms hit in the middle of the night. I used to just get up, turn on lights, and act like it was daytime; and of course, lay down trails of throw rugs everywhere, so she wouldn't trap herself at the end of the bathroom or kitchen. I'd be making cookies and mopping floors at 3 AM. If I tried to turn out the lights and get some sleep Queenie would get wound up all over again.

We used to pick up a lot of her prescriptions from the CVS and one time they spelled her name "Quenne," which cracked us up. We began calling her "Kweh-neh" as a pet name. Also "Quennetron," as in the powerful "Megatron" of those "Transformers" movies, because there was no doubting her destructive force when she was hot on the trail of a snack!

In May, Queenie developed a melanoma far back in her mouth. Dr Bouloy got out what he could, and she bounced right back. Over the last couple weeks, however, she began having a harder time getting up, breathing harder, and walking so much more slowly. She began to feel very bony in her back and hips. Her heart rate was a little too rapid. Lab tests showed that her kidneys and liver were no longer working quite right. On Saturday, we noticed that her abdomen was swelling; our vet came out and sent us right to the ER. X-rays and an ultrasound confirmed that the fluid was likely from a large liver tumor. The clinic drained off nearly two liters and we took Queenie home, just so we could have a little longer to say goodbye. She felt so much better for a little while! She walked briskly into the house, she slept comfortably stretched out on her side, and on Sunday she even asked for a little walk & spent the day looking out her windows and enjoying the view. But by afternoon her breathing was becoming labored again and her belly was once again filling up. We knew it was time for her to go. Our wonderful vet drove out again and gave the injection as Queenie enjoyed one last handful of liver treats. She just closed her eyes, put her head down as the cool breeze ruffled her fur, and, as the poet says, the life passed into the moving air.

Lately I have been hearing a C & W song on the radio, "Smile." Some of the words sound just like Queenie, because she really did:

Dance like a fool, forget how to breathe,
Shine like gold, buzz like a bee
Spin like a record, crazy on a Sunday night-

And of course, she made us smile all the time. Oh, how I wish we had known her all her life. What a treat it would have been to watch her run full tilt and see her puppy antics. I just know she was a real firecracker! But all I can do is know that it was a joy and a privilege to have her even for the short time we did, and try to count only the sunny hours.