We got her on Christmas day, and took her with us to my folks' house for dinner. My Mom laughed at her hugely muscled hindquarters, as she worked hard at climbing up our legs while we sat on the sofa. She jumped and ran madly around the whole afternoon, until finally wearing herself and everyone else out. Somewhere there is a post-dinner photo of my Dad napping with her asleep on his chest.
Baby Girl was definitely a dominant, type-A personality. She would leap from the ground up into my arms and climb up onto my shoulders like they were Mount Everest, but only in the presence of company. She had to show newcomers that she was on top....literally. In hindsight, it probably wasn't a good thing to let her have her way (I am just not the pack-leader type), but I thought it was too cute.
She never was a ratter though, as terriers are bred to be. We have enough lizards and mice in our backyard which she could have chased, but the only things she was interested in catching were the broom and the vacuum cleaner. She would follow our big dogs into the dens which they had dug, but never bothered to do any digging herself.
As with most small breeds of dog, she was pretty fearless in the face of any other dog in the neighborhood, regardless of size. The only time we ever witnessed her back away from something was the night a Great Horned Owl made an appearance on our porch roof. Smart cookie.
We have learned that howling is something that is reserved for grown-up dogs. She and one of our other dogs had seemed frightened of howling sounds as pups, and so the day she learned to howl on her own was quite fun. She was sitting in my lap one evening while watching "Cops" on t.v. A siren began to wail, and kept going for a time. She slowly sat up with a scared look on her face, while a growly whine began in her belly and gradually escaped her lips. She looked at us as if to say, "What is that sound coming from me???" We howled back, and she decided to wholeheartedly join in, realizing that the experience was as natural as sniffing someone's butt.
Baby Girl went through her share of difficulties. A number of surgeries to remove tumors, bouts of seizures in her younger years and a lick sore on her paw that she just wouldn't leave alone. It stayed with her for probably four or five years, despite bitter apple sprays, ointments and a battery powered anti-licking bandage (we couldn't put an Elizabethan collar on her, because the Big Dog thinks it is quite fun to play "Yank-The-Lampshade-Off-The-Little-Dog"). Probably my fault for not clearly establishing pack order, she was very OCD. I won't go into the rest of her habits.....
A couple of years ago, she eventually fell victim to lens luxation, a condition (apparently to which Jack Russells are prone) in which the lens of the eye detaches from the fibers that hold it in its' place and it floats around freely inside the eyeball. Losing her vision so suddenly was a shock, but she actually seemed to handle it better than we did early on. She was insecure at first, about moving around much at all. But we worked to teach her new voice commands which helped her negotiate around the house and on our daily walks. She could easily manage a step up or down fairly quickly, and mapped out our kitchen and living room by walking in concentric circles. She continued to bump into things, but learned to move forward a bit more cautiously. All things considered, she did quite well for herself.
Baby Girl took a bad turn two days ago, and I knew that she was dying. Our resilient, tough-as-nails little cutie pie finally decided it was time to stop. She was almost 16 years old when, with our vet's kind help we had to let her go. Saying goodbye, especially after so many years is difficult. She made the most of her life though, and I know she is somewhere out there running happily with her pack. We will miss her.
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