A Beagle Named Soda

"How old is she?"
That is what I almost always heard when people learned that Soda was 18.  Life expectancy of a beagle is on the order of 12 to 15 years.  To say Soda had a good dog's life at almost 19 would be an understatement.

I got Soda in April of 1999.  Mandy had recently died and that caused a hole that just needed to be filled.  I knew it was irrational, but I was hoping for the pyrite to be gold and the dog I got after Mandy would be just like her.
I was at one of the local Pet's Plus (or some other similar store) and a nearby county was holding a dog adoption event.  In the mix of dogs was a lanky female beagle.  She had a somewhat diminutive personality and was almost shy.  She went home along with a free bag of dog food.
I think she came with the name of Sprocket, but it was changed on the way home to Soda.  The origins of this name are from Seinfeld, where George Costanza suggested the name of Soda to another character on the show for her child.  It seemed to fit well for a dog (plus I really liked the show Seinfeld).
Soda was clearly in a state of stress.  She had very little fur, with a few nearly bald patches on her side and belly.  The fur she did have was very short and bristly.  It was obvious that things were not exactly sweetness for her.  She also had a funny pink spot on her nose.  Over her life her hair became soft and normal, but the pink nose remained as a testament to her early years.

Once at home, the shy diminutive dog evaporated and Soda became a bundle of unlimited energy.  This energy was not channeled in a good direction.  She was absolutely ballistic!
She would race around the back yard barking at nothing and everything.  While the yard was very large and fenced in, almost no fence could hold her.  She found every nook and and tiny break in the fence, managing to squeeze out of holes a fraction of her size.
When all the small holes were finally sealed, Soda learned that if she pushed hard enough, she was able to get under the fence.
When she did get out, she was impossible to catch.  She would run through icy creeks, bawling her fool head off.  She was completely oblivious to anything, sometimes running right past me at top speed, only caring about the mythical thing she was chasing, probably the long-gone scent of some small animal.

After the bottom of the fence was secured at significant expense with landscaping timbers, Soda learned to be able to jump over the fence.  She figured out that with just the right jump, she could get her "armpits" on the top of the fence, and then use her back legs to flop over.  I'm convinced that this had to hurt, but the pain was worth it to her to get to the "greener grass" on the other side.
Sometimes the other dogs would follow along on her criminal advetures.  Often, Sammy, Dixie and Lucky would just stand at the fence and watch her leave.  This was often a good signal to look for where Soda got out and the direction she had gone in.

Soda spent a lot of time inside the fenced in yard and tied up to a chain.  This was often the only way to keep her from running to some distant goal that was incredibly important to her.  She really did not like this though.

With Soda's maniacal focus on anything real or imagined, she was the only dog I had where I understood how somewhat got rid of her.  She shredded the bark on threes trying to climb them if she thought there were squirrels in them.  She dug countless holes trying to catch moles.  She tore down baby paw paw trees; I'm not sure why?
But, I'm not exactly sure why she did many of the things she did.  At times, I know I lost my temper with her.  This never seemed to phase her much though - perhaps that is a lesson for me.

Still, Soda did have her moments.  She was a beagle who absolutely loved being outdoors.  Rain, snow, sleet, heat - it didn't matter.  Soda liked being out in her back yard.  I guess in that way, we were a lot alike.
She was actually able to catch and kill a huge rabbit in the back yard once; the only one of my dogs where I've seen this.
Like all of my beagles, Soda was good at power-napping and could go from light-speed to sleep quickly.

As Soda got older, she did begin to mellow.  Sitting inside would become more than tolerable.  The back yard was interesting enough that only rarely did she feel the need to escape the fence or destroy a tree.

For the last few years at the old house and the first few in the current house, she really was a pretty good dog.

As an old, aloof beagle, Soda did have friends who adored her.  The vet loved her and the last time she was kenneled during a vacation, she was given free run of the place anytime the person cleaning the kennels was back there.

Like all of us, she did start to age.  She began to have small accidents in the house.  These would mostly happen while she was sleeping so we had to put a dog towel underneath her for a while, wherever she sat.  A prescription of Proin did wonders and stopped this for a while.  However, she was also diagnosed at the same time with the beginnings of kidney failure.

Soda was put on special food for her kidneys, since minimizing phosphorus and some proteins can help.  This made a difference for a while and I'm sure it prolonged her life, but she hated it.  Just about every renal dog food available was tried.  Soda would tolerate some longer than others.  Iams Renal Plus was the one that she hated the least.  Often, gravy, or canned renal dog food was needed to coax her to eat.

I'm not in favor of crating dogs, but eventually soda needed to be locked up when left alone in the house during work, etc.  The daily moppings and/or washing of the small boot rug by the door was too much.  A wire crate with a puppy pee pad became her daily resting spot.
What is amazing about most dogs and Soda in particular is how plastic they are.  I'm sure the crate was a big change for her and I know she didn't like it, but she very quickly accepted it as the new normal.  A few times she would even voluntarily walk into the cage.

At 17, I figured her days were numbered, but she soldiered on for another year.  At 18, I wondered if I should renew her dog tags, but I owed her at least that much.

A few weeks ago, it became obvious that the end was probably near.  Eating was becoming more intermittent and she was already very skinny.  She still loved being outside though.  I was really hoping she would go quietly and naturally, but that wasn't the case.  Coming home from work, she really couldn't even walk and it appeared she might be having small seizures.
I called the vet to make her last appointment, and had an incredibly hard time maintaining my composure on the phone.

The vet had a nice room set up to be able to say goodbye in a non-hospital like manner.  Soda's heart was so weak that an IV wasn't possible, but our vet helped her let go peacefully.  It was the second time I had to put one of my dogs down, and it was just as hard as the first time; it was also the right thing to do.

No, Soda wasn't my favorite dog, but that long, gangly, independent dog had been running around the house for nearly 17 years.  Even though there are still two beagles, the house didn't feel the same without her.
In a last act of Soda-ism, she died during a winter cold snap.  The vet offered to keep her until spring, but after buying a pick-ax and a stronger shovel I was able to chisel through half a foot of frozen ground and reach thawed earth to dig a spot for her burial.  This was not fun, but I was incredibly grateful that I could do this as I didn't want to open that raw wound and bury her in the spring.  Sometime around the anniversary of when I originally got Soda, a tree will be planted over her.
And I'm sure, given most of her life spent running after anything and everything, that tree will attract more squirrels than any other in the yard.