Dora, Cali’s sister and playmate, passed away on March 23, likely of same hemangiosarcoma that claimed so many of their siblings and other relatives.
Dora had the even, sociable, sweet, and loving temperament so many of their family shared. She was more analytical than Cali, often more serious, and an excellent dog’s dog. By which I mean that she could connect with and understand any dog, whether excitable or calm, young or old, anxious or confident.
Dora spent many years helping her mom walk a pack of dogs each day and made many dog and human friends through that dog pack and in her neighborhood. As her health declined, she more often chose to stay home, often hanging out with her adored dad (Cali adored him too … ).
From their first night away from their mom, which they spent snuggled together in a tiny crate, Cali and Dora shared a special sister bond. Until Cali and I moved to Montana, Cali and Dora had frequent play dates. Though both had many other friends and playmates, there was an intensity and intimacy about their play together that Cali never experienced with any other dog.
Looking through old photos of the girls, I found that many are just a blur of fur and motion; when they were together, Dora and Cali played and played (stopping for occasional snack breaks of course).
It’s the end of a wonderful era, and it came way too soon. I know it’s a silly, but I like to imagine them running together on an endless eternal dog beach.