The resilience of animals never ceases to amaze me.  Our beloved, neurotic, devoted, almost 10 year old German Shepherd, had her tail amputated yesterday.  It was a glorious tail, long and supple, and tipped with bristly black hairs that brushed your legs with love when she walked by.  I think that what a good head of hair is to a human, a gorgeous tail is to a dog.   I know she loved that tail.  So did we.  When faced with the decision to manage an infected, inoperable cyst at its base,  or remove the issue in full, the choice was obvious.   Pricey, as all veterinary surgery is, but worth it for her health.  I found out that tail amputation  is more common that I thought.  The day of her surgery, a cat was also having her tail liberated, and several more were booked for the day after.

If all goes as I plan, we will have at least three to four more senior years with our furry best friend.  Canines enter our lives for such a short time, its truly unfair for them to exit on average 10-13 years down the line, but that is the usual for large breeds.  And we know it, and we raise them, rescue and adopt them anyway.  Love, unconditional love, gets you every time.

We loved Goose from the get go.  Her name was Lucy Lou when we recued her and we changed it immediately to Lucy Goose.  She fit in to our household right away, antagonizing our current Shepherd, Vera, and sticking to us like glue.  She went on an 11 mile cross-country ski with Keith, just a few days after we acquired her, with no worries.  When Vera passed away, Goose took over as the Shepherd of the house.  She was always there, always alert.   When my daughter was born, she immediately knew she was on duty.  She maintains that job exceptionally well to this day but in the early years, it was overbearing, and Birdie would get knocked over quite frequently.  (Yes, Birdie is my daughter’s nickname and our dog is Goose.  Serendipity!)

As the years passed, our canine companion adjusted well to our rescued cat, Cleo, and our baby bunny Half-Pint.  The bunny eventually grew up to be a fully integrated potty trained, house-rabbit, hopping around the house with bouncy bunny joy.   Goose and Half-Pint lounge on the dog bed together and sometimes I catch the bunny scratching and gnawing on her tail playfully.  Goose was a good sport with the tail antics and took it all in stride.  Now, I wonder if the rabbit will search for her tail in vain or will she just move on to attack another appendage?

So, back to the tail itself.  When I accepted the fact that the dog was loosing her tail, the most natural and instant thought I had was that I wanted it.   Yes, I wanted that tail!   How often do you have a piece of your dog long after she is gone.   She isn’t going anywhere anytime soon, the amputation is hopefully securing that notion, and I really have no plans to acquire a piece of her after she passes away.   Here I was faced with my golden opportunity.  A surgically amputated piece of my dog, her waging glory, available for me to have as a memento of our life together.  The vet had to say yes.

When I brought her in and relinquished Goose to the vet tech, I asked a ton of questions but I left the oddest one till last.  “Can I have the tail,” was met with a stink eye and a short silence.   “Uh, well, I think I heard someone did this once, let me ask the doctor.  We will call you and let you know.”  The whole ride home I delved into the recesses of my brain to retrieve the basic tanning knowledge I had hopefully stored from survival classes taken years ago.  Keith and I do own a leather business, but we purchase the hides from retail, and although I had witnessed tanning done before, never had I attempted it myself.  Realizing I had no idea how to specifically tan a tail, I hit the internet.  By the time the call came in with the happy news that the amputation was successful and they had saved me the tail, I had a really good idea of how I was going to preserve it.

Within 24 hours, we had driven into Anchorage three times, (a total of about 300 miles.)  We were travel weary with a drugged dog and a severed tail wrapped in a towel.  Upon arriving home,  I got the dog settled, kid in her pajamas, then we immediately lined the kitchen table with plastic bags, donned blue surgical gloves and set to work.   Birdie was getting a hands on, crash course in canine anatomy and tanning and preserving hides.  Drying the tail was the first step.  I removed and examined the bone and tendons, scraped as much fat off as I could from the skin, tacked it open on a small board and covered it in non-iodized salt.  There are several methods to do this initial step but I chose the one that was most convenient and on hand, such as the salt.   The observation, dissection, and initial step of preserving our pets tail out of the way,  I placed it up on the driest, warmest place in the house, on top of the cabinetry above the refrigerator, where it will stay for a few weeks.

Perhaps I was predisposed in gravitating towards tanning my dogs tail from the get go.   I remember going up into the giant old attic in my childhood home in New Jersey and rummaging about.  It was a wonderland of vintage oddities,  giant old dolls my Mom had collected, drying peppermint hanging from the rafters and one tan and black preserved dog pelt.  The breed of canine has escaped me over the years, but being that my father had a love of the German Shepherd it was not far to assume the fur was Shepherd or at least a Shepherd mix.  All that I remember about the story is that when he worked on farms in New York State in his early years, he had a favorite dog.  He loved it so much that when it died, he skinned and tanned the hide.  It was the ultimate homage to a beloved pet.  In HIS eyes!  He had been reprimanded by his boss for the incident because “we don’t do things like that in America.”  Dad came over to the United States on a work visa from Switzerland, and if skinning and preserving your pet is common there, its news to me.  It was, however, natural to him and as it turns out, pretty easy for me to accept, albeit on the slightly smaller scale of a tail.

This morning, after eating, drinking, and tracking muddy paw prints all over the floor, Goose is currently resting comfortably with the aid of some good narcotics.  As are we after a long three days, minus the narcotics, of course.  There is a big pot of stew bones boiling on the stove to make a good broth and speed up her recovery.  In a few weeks there should be an update on our beloved furry friend along with news of progress on the tail.  Its all new to me, and this scenario may never happen again, so I am going with it and we shall see what happens.  Stay tuned!

The End