Although she wasn't very active in her last few years, she did love to go out for her daily walks in the park, come home and have a cookie.
Every day for 14 years, she's been there, a part of our lives. When she was young, we used to mountain bike or hike for hours, just to wear her out. As she got older, a sniff around the park seemed to satisfy her. Then she would sleep the day away, often snoring or running in her dreams.
She had her quirks for sure. Like she couldn't be in the car without a window open, or she would howl and whine. That trip to the Southwest in December a few years ago was quite frigid.
Juneau was a serious dog. An old soul, she often had a concerned look on her face. She was known as the sheriff of the park, because she would break up dog fights. Not that she didn't start a few of her own, back in her youth. She would always come and nuzzle you if you were crying and was very protective of her cats.
She loved the snow. And digging in my garden. And babies and children. And could that girl sing!
She was terrified of fireworks, so every Fourth of July, we would pack up and go camping, just to get her away from them. She loved to run and play in the water, but didn't like to swim. When I would dive in and swim away from her, she would pace on the shoreline and howl and bark the most pathetic, concerned bark, until I came back. Every once in a while, she'd swim out after me, trying to round me up and coax me back to shore.
There was the time we took her on a whale watch and both she and Tiger got sea sick. And as she got older, she started to lose her hair, a condition the vets didn't know how to treat. It made her look ragged, but she didn't seem to notice, her once beautiful, full tail looked like a muskrat's.
She never liked to snuggle, but as she got older, she let us lavish her with love. The first thing I would do when I woke up in the morning was to give her a kiss on her muzzle and tell her how much I loved her. The house feels so empty without her here.