Our Beloved Yulara has passed away of heart failure. She is now bounding around the green at Rainbow Bridge with her buddies: Ringo, Henry and Snickers. She is missed more than words can express.
Have a good time little girl. We'll see you when we get there.
A TRIBUTE TO YULARA
2 November 1988 - 1 May 1998
Today, we mourn the passing of a true friend and dearly loved member of our family. A severely enlarged heart took her off to Rainbow Bridge. As large as her physical heart was, it couldn't even compare to the size of her spiritual heart. She will be very much missed.
Born sometime around the 2nd of November in 1988, she came to us at nine weeks of age. I first saw her following on the heels of a boy of about 10 years, as he was walking down our street. It was New Years Day, and, I was training one of our dogs in the driveway. Although I oppose the giving of pets as Christmas gifts, I couldn't help but think that he must have gotten her for Christmas and how cute they were together. Then he stopped when he reached me, and my heart sank when he asked if I knew who she belonged to. I gathered myself and went down the list of "Did you's" that go with locating a stray pet's home. He had done all of the ones that a ten year old boy can do on a national holiday.
My heart sank even further when he explained that he was going to keep her at his grandmother's house. He and his mother lived in an apartment that didn't allow pets, and they were not going to take the puppy to the pound. He called her "Lady." Once again, I collected myself and said the fateful words that ultimately brought the puppy into our home. ~~ If you can't keep her, for any reason at all, bring her back here and we'll find her a good home. ~~ Almost a week went by, without a word from him. In the mean time, I checked the local newspaper's "lost pets" column every day. Not a single ad was posted by the puppy's owners. I figured that, by the end of the week, the owners would have placed an ad, and that things were going good with the boy and "Lady."
My husband and I worked overlapping shifts - I worked days and he worked nights. Friday afternoon of the week following New Years Day, I drove into our driveway, after work, to find the boy sitting on our front steps. He'd been crying, and, curled up in his arms was the puppy. As I got out of the car, he came to me, pushed "Lady" into my arms and chokingly said, through his tears, "You said you'd take her and find a good home for her if I couldn't keep her. My grandma doesn't want her anymore." Having "rescued" a number of strays as a child, much to my parents' annoyance, I knew exactly how his little ten year old heart felt. It was breaking, and mine was in pain for him because of it. He tried very hard to be brave, stroking the pup's head and telling her to be a good girl, tears running down his little face. Then he turned and walked away. I never knew the boy's name. I never saw him again. But, if I could tell him anything right now, it'd be how happy we are that he came along and gave us the privilege of sharing the next 9- plus years with "Lady."
The first thing I did, once I got the puppy in the house, was panic. It'd been years since I'd had to deal with a puppy. But, I gave her a potty break and housed her in a dog crate while I went to pick up some puppy food. The two older dogs wondered who this was who was in their house, but, accepted her with wagging tails. The oldest, Ringo, taught her her place in the family in his own gentle way. And the cat, Snickers, became an endless source of fascination and play for the puppy. When bed time came, she went back into the dog crate in the living room. I slept in our bed upstairs. And, sometime around 1 A.M., I awoke to my husband crouching down next to my side of the bed, and his voice saying, "There's a funny noise coming from Henry's crate in the living room." I was wide awake after he said that. Then, "At least she's pretty."
Thus began Yulara's time with us. She'd been accepted. A trip to the vet that morning for shots and a checkup were in order. The vet looked at her feet and said that he couldn't tell what breeds were in this little black and white pup's background, but, that she'd be big. Our "big" dog topped out at 13 inches in height, and 22 pounds, with a long low back. To this very day, her genetic heritage remains a puzzle. We figure that somewhere in there she has corgi. Corgis are herding dogs. I don't think I ever saw her herd anything. But, she did point birds like a pointer and go to ground after varmints like a terrier. Her bark was deep, often bringing smiles to the faces of those who knocked on the door and heard the "big dog" bark, only to see a "little dog" when the door was opened.
Next came a name. Neither of us wanted "Lady." We racked our brains and nothing fit. Then, Bryan suddenly said, "Yulara." That was it. It was perfect. Well, almost perfect. "Yulara" is an Australian Aboriginal word meaning "howling dingo." Yulara looked absolutely nothing like a dingo, and to my knowledge she never howled. But, we'd traveled in Australia in 1987. One of the trips we made was to Ayers Rock in the Red Center. Not far from that second largest monolith on earth, was a small "town" called Yulara. It was really a lodging settlement, having 3 or 4 motels in varying price brackets, a campground, several small restaurants and a general store. We pitched our tent in the campground and had the honor of being serenaded by howling dingoes that night. Obviously, it made an impression on us, and since we couldn't be in Australia, we brought a little of it home in the form of the name bestowed on our new puppy.
Two weeks later, our happy family was challenged. Our yard was not fenced and our lot was a corner lot. We were outside in the backyard, tossing a Frisbee for the two shelties and Yulara, when a young girl rode past on her bicycle. She stopped and asked if we'd found "that dog", pointing to Yulara. I stretched the truth a bit, saying, "no," that a boy had found her and given her to us. By this time, Yulara had been away from her original owners for three of her 11 short weeks of life. Bryan took over, at that point, because I was shaking too much to be rational. I didn't want to give Yulara back. Through a conversation with the girl's mother, we learned that Yulara had, indeed, been a Christmas gift of sorts. The girl's father had gotten the pup from a friend, taking her as a favor. She spent most of her time outside and twice in the week that she'd been there, the gate had been left open and she'd gone for a walk on her own. The first time, she obviously made it back home, one way or another. The second, she didn't. The only person home in the day time was an elderly grandmother who didn't really like the dog. The girl's parents owned a Chinese Restaurant and hadn't had time to put an ad in the paper because they were too busy with the restaurant. Bryan told the mother that, if they really wanted the puppy, we'd give her back, but that we'd really like to keep her. The mother told the girl to let us have the puppy. When Yulara was six months old, she was spayed. When the stitches came out, I tattooed her. Until then, I'd lived with a fear that she'd be taken away from us. The one thing that might have kept that from happening until she was tattooed, was our moving clear across town, into our own home.
Ringo, the oldest of the shelties and head of canine household, taught Yulara with a patience and fairness. He was much like a father to her. But, much of what she learned came from Snickers, the cat. At that time, Snickers had her front claws. They were removed about a year later. Snickers taught Yulara how to play like a cat, stalk like a cat and clean like a cat. There were many times when Yulara would pounce at Snickers in invitation to play. Snickers usually obliged. It was not uncommon to look over at them playing on the floor and find that Snickers had Yulara by the flues. She'd be laying on the floor, usually on her back, and holding onto Yulara's flues with her claws. Anywhere that the claws snagged, the hair grew back white. By the time she was two, Yulara was already starting to grey.
As the years went by, Yulara was there when each of our two boys were brought home from the hospital after they were born. She was there to welcome a new kitten to the household. She was there when I ran a daycare business in our home, always gentle with the children. She was obedience trained and had fairly good manners. For most of her life, she became ill when riding in the car. Once Abri came along, and we'd take her when we went for drives, Yulara sat on Bryan's lap in the passenger seat. She never got sick when she was there. She went camping with us, hiking, picnicking and just about everywhere in the last year or so of her life. Only a few months before her death, we all walked around a sort of lava bed. It was a place with "natural bridges" in the Indian Heaven Wilderness area. There were actual natural bridges, made of lava, extending over a small gorge of lava and brush. We crossed one and turned right onto the path, walking to the next bridge and crossed it. This second one was a bit harder to cross, as we had to go around a tree growing through the lava and standing right in the middle of the beginning side that we were on. When we'd finally reached the other side, we turned left back onto the original path. After we'd walked the rest of the way around the lava bed, we headed back. When we came to that second bridge again, Yulara, who'd been venturing to the end of her leash once we'd started back along the same route we'd come on, automatically turned to cross that bridge. But, we kept going along the path, not wanting to dodge that tree again. As soon as that happened, she fell right into heel position. It was a fun thing to watch. It seemed that, as long as she could smell where we'd been, she would venture. But, when we hadn't tread there yet, she would take heel position. I suppose she realized that, in heel position, she was safe.
Yulara saw her three buddies all die within 18 months of each other. First was Ringo, and although she missed him and looked for him for a while, she was pretty much okay with it. Then, Henry passed away only five short months later. She didn't take this one so well. Now there were no other dogs to play with. She still had Snickers, but Snickers wasn't as active as she had been in earlier years. When she died slightly over a year after Henry did, Yulara was totally lost. All she had left was an antisocial cat and us humans. She moped a bit, but, for the most part took it well. Then I noticed that she didn't jump on people in greeting any more. She became a lazy couch dog. For nearly two and a half years, I tried to tell Bryan that she needed another dog. He didn't buy it. But, finally, he allowed it, and Abri came into our lives.
Yulara was fine with the new pup for a day or so. Then she realized that this Vizsla puppy wasn't going to be leaving. That's when it got interesting. This little 13 inch something-or-other was the boss lady and she let the pup know in no uncertain terms that she was. But, there are some things that happen on the road to that understanding. Along that road, Yulara wrenched her back somehow. She hung her head funny and wouldn't jump up on the couch anymore. What a time. Finally, with the help of muscle relaxants, she got better. That was when things changed a bit, and Abri figured out her place in the canine hierarchy.
There were some memorable moments with Yulara. She liked to play with Bryan's feet or hands under the covers. In doing so, she made a weird little chortle sound. Rarely did she ever connect with her teeth, even though the "target" was padded. This was a game that Yulara never tired of, and even attempted just a few days before her death.
One other she did was to remind us of Ringo and how well, he'd taught her. During the years when the three dogs graced our home, Ringo was the top of the ladder. We had an edict which was followed faithfully. During our meals in the kitchen, the dogs were told "out!" That meant they had to go out of the kitchen. Inevitably, they all sat just on the other side of the threshold, in the living room, and watched us eat from there. They could really pile on the "poor, pathetic puppy" looks, but they didn't get into the kitchen. Ringo, always the one to do things his way, would lay down on the living room side, but he'd always put one paw in the kitchen. He did it without fail, and we let him. When Philip was a couple of years old, we started eating on the floor in the living room, using the coffee table for our table. Star Trek: The Next Generation was our entertainment as we ate, and the dogs were made to keep their distance, but, not made to go out of the room. 6 months after Henry died, we bought a new dining room table set, and, in the absence of a dining room, promptly put it in the kitchen. The first night that we ate in the kitchen, Yulara was right there at out feet, waiting for something yummy to fall from the table. But, instead, she heard that dreaded "out!" that she hadn't heard for a few years, and reluctantly and dejectedly walked out of the kitchen. But, when she turned around and layed down, she put one paw in the kitchen. Both Bryan and I saw it and remembered Ringo by it. She's earned that privilege and was still doing it a few days before she passed on.
Yulara was truly a member of the family. During her nine-plus years with us, she gave us a great deal of joy. There are no words to describe what she was to us. And she is missed.
