Casey McNab died yesterday. She was 12 years old.
Born in Fox, Oregon, she came to the Middle Fork at only a few weeks old. Even that young and small, folks would comment on the way she always kept busy, always looking for something to do, to investigate, to explore. Such was her nature.
Bred to work cows; she excelled at this for the first seven years of her life. Often covering 30-40 miles a day in extremely rugged country, she moved cattle regardless of weather or danger, from before sunrise to long after sunset. After training her replacement for over a year, she decided to take early retirement, so she could focus on her hobbies at home.
And being obsessive compulsive meant that any visitor to the ranch was asked (quite strongly and in no uncertain terms) to engage in throwing a stick or kicking pinecones for her. Even better was chasing a Frisbee. She would play until she collapsed happy and exhausted in the yard. Trail rides alongside the horses, and the killing of rats/mice, also took up lots of her well-deserved free time too.
Even after going blind a couple years ago (an untreatable genetic problem), she continued on as always. She never felt sorry for herself and didn't stop doing the things she had always done. She even learned to catch a Frisbee in flight by listening to the sound of it as it passed over her head. It was a thing of beauty to see. She was a poster child for perseverance and determination, all the while doing it with humor and grace.
Casey was one of the most intelligent creatures I've ever met, and she worked at improving her knowledge and abilities daily. For example, her grasp of human language was amazing. She'd listen carefully to the spoken word, figuring out meanings so she could be part of anything going on. At times she'd try to converse, but unfortunately her species doesn't have the ability to form the same sort of sounds that humans can. There were times after listening to me speak for a bit that she would respond with an unusual bark or soft growl, then wait for a reply. If I mimicked her, she'd then make another completely new type of sound and wait again for a copied reply. This would often go one for long periods and make her very happy; as if she were having the sort of conversation she so wished she could have in English. I have tried to count of the number of words she understood, but the list continues to grow as I remember more and more of them.
But mostly Casey was the nicest individual I've ever known. She never complained, never cheated, never got in trouble. Always willing to help, she would be supportive in every way she could. Not once in all her years can I think of a single time that she was a "bad dog". She was honest, aware, thoughtful, considerate, mindful, funny, passionate, happy, apologetic, forthright, loyal, and simply the finest friend anyone could have. She will always be the example of the type of person I wish I could be.
She spent the last month battling liver failure, yet stayed with me everywhere I went, wanting to be involved in whatever was happening, fully alert and pleasant right up to the last moment. Losing her is one of the hardest things I've had to deal with. She was truly a special and unique being. I am proud and lucky to have called her my friend.
I now have a very large empty place in my heart and soul that can never be filled again. She will be missed.
I hope you also have the opportunity to know someone like her in your life. Folks like Casey teach us to be better than we are.
- Eric Sines, March 21, 2013
Born in Fox, Oregon, she came to the Middle Fork at only a few weeks old. Even that young and small, folks would comment on the way she always kept busy, always looking for something to do, to investigate, to explore. Such was her nature.
Bred to work cows; she excelled at this for the first seven years of her life. Often covering 30-40 miles a day in extremely rugged country, she moved cattle regardless of weather or danger, from before sunrise to long after sunset. After training her replacement for over a year, she decided to take early retirement, so she could focus on her hobbies at home.
And being obsessive compulsive meant that any visitor to the ranch was asked (quite strongly and in no uncertain terms) to engage in throwing a stick or kicking pinecones for her. Even better was chasing a Frisbee. She would play until she collapsed happy and exhausted in the yard. Trail rides alongside the horses, and the killing of rats/mice, also took up lots of her well-deserved free time too.
Even after going blind a couple years ago (an untreatable genetic problem), she continued on as always. She never felt sorry for herself and didn't stop doing the things she had always done. She even learned to catch a Frisbee in flight by listening to the sound of it as it passed over her head. It was a thing of beauty to see. She was a poster child for perseverance and determination, all the while doing it with humor and grace.
Casey was one of the most intelligent creatures I've ever met, and she worked at improving her knowledge and abilities daily. For example, her grasp of human language was amazing. She'd listen carefully to the spoken word, figuring out meanings so she could be part of anything going on. At times she'd try to converse, but unfortunately her species doesn't have the ability to form the same sort of sounds that humans can. There were times after listening to me speak for a bit that she would respond with an unusual bark or soft growl, then wait for a reply. If I mimicked her, she'd then make another completely new type of sound and wait again for a copied reply. This would often go one for long periods and make her very happy; as if she were having the sort of conversation she so wished she could have in English. I have tried to count of the number of words she understood, but the list continues to grow as I remember more and more of them.
But mostly Casey was the nicest individual I've ever known. She never complained, never cheated, never got in trouble. Always willing to help, she would be supportive in every way she could. Not once in all her years can I think of a single time that she was a "bad dog". She was honest, aware, thoughtful, considerate, mindful, funny, passionate, happy, apologetic, forthright, loyal, and simply the finest friend anyone could have. She will always be the example of the type of person I wish I could be.
She spent the last month battling liver failure, yet stayed with me everywhere I went, wanting to be involved in whatever was happening, fully alert and pleasant right up to the last moment. Losing her is one of the hardest things I've had to deal with. She was truly a special and unique being. I am proud and lucky to have called her my friend.
I now have a very large empty place in my heart and soul that can never be filled again. She will be missed.
I hope you also have the opportunity to know someone like her in your life. Folks like Casey teach us to be better than we are.
- Eric Sines, March 21, 2013
