Moonshine’s Obituary

b. 12 Sep 1997 - d. 17 Jun 2010

We said goodbye to Moonshine this past Thursday. She came for Christmas nearly thirteen years ago and stayed to become a beloved family member. Moonshine was one of the most joyous beings we ever meet - she was full of herself. “Its all about me!” best represents her philosophy of life, and she possessed such strong feelings of entitlement that she would have been a great politician.
Moonshine was an athlete in her prime, a "weight puller"who hauled nearly 700 pounds. She gave up the chance for fame early, but was a disinterested contender. She traveled and camped with us all over Alaska, and loved visiting our cabin on the ocean in Seldovia. She rode the Alaskan Highway three times - six if you count both ways, swam in nearly every river west of the Mississippi, and spent winters snow-birding in California and Arizona. She wanted to play with every dog she met, and never met a human she didn’t like.
Moonshine developed a slight limp when we left Tucson near the first of March; a lump appeared on her front right shoulder by the time we returned to Anchorage a month later. Lab tests proved it to be cancerous and the vet recommended against surgery because of her advanced age, size and general condition.
She also had an open sore near her rectum, and wore a diaper to prevent her from pestering it. The vet described it as cancerous, another burden for her and us to bear, but said it was not the one that would kill her. He gave her a month to live.

We wanted time to say goodbye. It was a bit selfish on our part, but we also did not want her to suffer unduly. The vet said that we would know when the time came. She lived a month longer than she was given. At first she hurled herself downstairs, excited, as usual, about the prospect of a ride; later she had trouble getting up or down without assistance. The lump continued to grow, she needed an increasing number of pain pills, and slept more with each passing day.
But there were two things she enjoyed to the very last. She never lost her appetite, and never passed a chance to go riding. She shared hamburgers and fries at The Spenard McDonald’s. Then on the way to the vet we drove Moon by Lake Hood, one of her favorate swimming holes, and a couple of her favorite hangouts, including Turnagain Elementary and Lyn Ary Park overlooking Cook Inlet.

She walked into the vets under her own power (with a little help), but was diverted momentarily while passing through their food storage area. She was exhausted by the short walk to the treatment room, and immediately laid down on the elevator table that raised her to waist high. She lay quietly, her head down on the table, eyes open, and with a paw next to her face. She died peacefully in that position.