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Celebrating our Berner Veterans
In Loving Memory of Hudson Good Harth Fichter Brigi April 23rd 2002 to February 1st 2014 Owned, so much loved and now so sadly missed by Danielle Gershberg and family 
My Little Angel Hudson 4/23/02 - 2/1/14 As I sit here writing this, I can't believe yet that she is gone. No longer will I look over and see her lying by the front door, or go into the bathroom and see her laying against the wall keeping me company as I take my bath (then leaving suddenly as if I was suddenly going to also make her take a bath). No longer is she on her bed in the living room watching me with those pretty eyes and sneezing before I even asked, knowing I couldn't resist that and would give her a treat. No longer will I wake up, call out "good morning everyone!" and hear her heave herself up from wherever she was, happily panting, as she shuffles and wags and pushes her way in front of the others to smile and say hello first. No longer will I come home to get her for the afternoon walk, watch her head perk up when I open the door, heave herself up again as fast as she could and come at me, tail wagging and smiling, always smiling, ready for our daily journey. She greeted me that way to this very last day. When I was a teenager, I lived next door to a big goofy Berner boy named Woo-Woo that I fell in love with. He loved me so much back he used to brave his electric fence to get to me. Bernese became my dream dog and I couldn't wait for the day until I could get one of my very own. But first came my angelic yet neurotic German Shepherd rescue Callisto and soon after my border collie/shepherd/retriever-Heinz 57 troublemaker Oliver. I adored them dearly and they were both perfect. Still I wanted my Bernese Mountain Dog. I thought that no breeder would sell a dogwalker living in a one bedroom rented apartment such a sought-after purebred and so I went to the internet to search before I knew any better. I saw a few pictures and as I am very picky markings-wise, nothing struck me until I was sent a photo of a tiny little girl (in Hungary, no less!) with sparkling light brown eyes and a perfect cross on her chest. She was a discounted price because her amber eyes were a flaw for the show ring. But all I saw was perfection and soon 9 1/2 week old baby Hudson was on her way from Budapest to Los Angeles. And our adventure began. They forgot to put her back on the plane after the layover in the pet hotel in Amsterdam. When little Hudson arrived a day late, perfect and small, she was feisty for a few days. Most likely from the extra stopover being around a bunch of other dogs, she came down with parvo. It was 50-50 if she would make it and I remember thinking the $1500 hospital bill was enormous. If only I knew then what would await us in her lifetime, that would seem like spare change. The first day in the hospital she wouldn't eat for them but when Auntie Dawn, Auntie Liv and I walked into the room in hospital slippers and covered in plastic so we wouldn't infect the sick animals, she ate some tuna out of a can for her Mommy. And I knew she would be fine. Hudson was far from fine. She didn't grow for that entire week and I believe her full-size was ultimately stunted from that and I'm sure it affected her entire immune system forever. But after that initial scare, she was a playful and happy puppy until she hit about 9 months old and from then on her life became one fight after another. I am always miss doom and gloom anyway, but I was predicting my dog's death from the age of 4 on. First came the intestinal issues which took weeks and a special, extremely expensive vet food she had to be on for the rest of her life to recover from. I thought she would never be able to have regular treats again, but she did and thank goodness because food, and lots of it, was one of her true joys. Then came the elbow dysplasia and the two surgeries to remove bone chips at about 1 1/2 years of age. That was where we bonded even more learning tricks and reading each other's minds during her recovery time when she couldn't be out walking around for weeks. I thought she would never again be able to hike with all the dogs. Again, not true--she hiked almost every day for over 10 years. Illnesses and accidents kept happening, too many to recount or even to remember them all: bee stings that caused facial swelling; three cracked teeth that needed to be removed at different times; lost almost all the fur on her butt and tail--hello thyroid problems--but that was an easy fix. Her hips were discovered to be 1/3rd in the socket. She never acted like they were a problem, she just had a signature swish. Then came the swaying and tripping and sliding around age 4. The MRI showed 3 separate discs in her back and neck that were protruding. As the drs said, she was an orthopedic nightmare. And that she needed back surgery to walk properly again, and for sure she'd never be able to go to the beach or do long hikes. Well, I chose an alternative route. I took her to swimming rehab, to an acupuncture dr, to a human chiropractor, we did stretching exercises and massages and I would walk her at a park near my house an hour 3-4 times a week, going up and down hills, over small ju mps, under obstacles, in the volleyball sandbox, to strengthen her muscles--and it worked. Her heart was good and her knees were good, two huge blessings that kept her able and willing. One more fight won as she not only went back to hiking but she would go to the beach all the time and swim in the ocean and lay in tidepools for many more years. With all the pain and discomfort she must have had from her awful joints, she never complained and truly enjoyed her life without restraint. Still the fights kept coming at her: constant vaginal infections with e-coli, foxtails, eye infections, she was covered in fatty tumors. While I still kept predicting her death by age 7, I was kinda getting the gist of how tough this midget 71 lbs Berner really was. She just kept going and going regardless of what was thrown at her. True, she only had one speed that I like to call her movie serial-killer speed that would maybe break into a slow trot, but it worked for her and she didn't seem to mind not running and jumping. And as long as she was happy, so was I. It was my mission to keep that dog happy and alive. She was always smiling, and even when I was not smiling after paying the bills, I would look at that perfect face and have to smile again. She was my front seat driving buddy, my constant companion, a bratty little sister and a great big sister, adored by all who met her. She was the queen and she took it in stride. She was something special and she deserved the title. Age 9: hemangiosarcoma on her tongue. Everyone thought that was it for her. It got worse after we did chemo and I chose not to surgically remove part of her tongue. I thought 9 was a fantastic age for any Berner. I had always thought, oh Hudson if you can make it to 10, I truly cannot ask for any more than that, I really can't. Well, my little warrior beat the hemangio, she made it to 10, and then--lo and behold--she made it to 11! More fights ensued in between--more intestinal issues, another foxtail that made it almost all the way up to her cervix, her arthritis and joints were coming back to haunt her as she got older. She had to stop hiking the big hikes but not until after her first and only trip to Tahoe at age 10 thanks to her beloved Auntie Dawn where she got to swim in lakes and climb up mountains. And then last August, on her routine ultrasounds, a lesion was discovered on her lung, after years of nothing being there. I decided to leave her alone as she was already almost 11 1/2 and a lung surgery wasn't going to be good for her, or make her walk better or be less achy. Her joys in life were still eating, demanding attention from her many fans and adoration from her younger siblings (of which she got all of those). We continued doing afternoon walks where I catered to Hudson. She got to be the boss and decide where we went and how long she would roll in the grass or dig in the sand for. She repaid me over and over in so many ways and with so much loyalty, devotion and love. I couldn't be selfish, I had said every day after 10 was a blessing and so we made her every day count. But suddenly it wasn't enough. Funny how that works when you're faced with an ending. Although as much as I ignored the lesion for another 5 months, this time, it didn't go away or get better. But it took awhile and she and I continued our routine as usual. And then, she started to stop eating. We were hoping it was pneumonia which we could take antibiotics to get rid of but it turned out to be the tumor. Hudson was in for another rough fight, but after a lifetime of prevailing, this last battle was different. Her eyes were still bright and her smile and her tail wags were still there but her appetite never returned. Still, through it all she smiled and wagged her tail, even as her breathing got rougher and her energy waned and grasping for straws I thought, she can still make it to 12, can't she? I mean, she'd always defeated her opponents before when the odds were stacked against her. She could win again, right? Hudson was a one-of-a-kind curly coated wonder, with strength and bravery unparalleled. That sounds silly to say about a dog but for anyone who truly knew her, it was fact. She taught me so many things in and about life. It was never about numbers and how many birthdays she had that counted. Sometimes winning isn't about who lives the longest. Sometimes winning is about what you do with the life and the hand you've been dealt, as short or as long as it is. She got dealt a rough hand and it may have stalled her once or twice but it never stopped her. Hudson made it to just past 11 years and 9 months because she had a lot of things to fit into her life and that was as long as it took for her to do it. That dog did everything she wanted, got every treat, rode every ride, danced every dance, as they say and she lived and loved every second of it. And we got to share it together. Hudson never counted. There was no way to count every time she laid in a tidepool, or sneezed or was shy or bowed, or every time she dug in the dirt, or ignored me calling her to tell her we had to leave so she could quickly get in one more roll in the grass. There is no way to count how many people she made smile, or made ME smile. And there was no way to even begin to count how many times I told her I loved her in her lifetime or how many times she told me. Those were infinite and if I was to add up all those, Hudson would live for eternity. And she always will. And so while I am devastated and it still hasn't fully hit me yet, I am at peace with her leaving. Because now she is at peace with not one regret. The place I got her from was wrong, Hudson was the meaning of a true champion in this world. She was still smiling and wagging, knowing she loved so much and was loved so very very much. She went out undefeated. Danielle Gershberg RIP: Hudson, Oliver & Callisto survived by Ramona the berner, Xander the saluki and Dexter Morgan the powderpuff, devoted younger siblings Hudson's New Sister! 
Dexter Morgan In Loving Memory of Hudson's brother 
Kristin O'Neill's Yukon (Good Harth Fichter Bruno) April 23rd 2002 to July 9th 2013 B-G ID=22578 |
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