The last days of little Squirt

At 18 years old, the fact that this little American Eskimo dog is alive is pretty remarkable.

But she's always been full of moxie, this little dog, barking and running and brawling with bigger beings since she came into our lives 16 years ago.

When we first saw her, she was shivering in the back of a humane society cage, and we thought she would be this meek little lapdog. She immediately put that to rest, running and playing with Maverick, our Vizsla as if she knew him forever.

Squirt moved in quick little bursts of energy. She would nip at the heels of Mav, then squirt away from him. She always was a Squirt.

She would run with me and Mav, too. pulling on the leash like a sled dog. It was nothing for her to go five, six miles. But a few years ago, her physicality slowly started to erode. I would take her for half mile jogs, then walks, then around the block, then just up the street.

Finally she was reduced to staggering around the back yard like a drunk. Then she lost the use of her back legs.

We carry her where she wants to go. We know that she won't last long, and we agonize over the decision to put her down. Are we keeping her with us because of us, or because of her? Here's the thing: Old dogs usually tell you when they are ready to go. Something dims in their eyes, and they look at you as if asking for your help to make it all go away. So far, Squirt hasn't had that look.

She looks at you with bright little eyes, pointy ears perking around at attention.

Squirt is tough, and there's something innate in her that values life.