By Julie Reardon

Most of us have told ourselves at some point, “Well, that didn’t go as planned, but I’m ok with that.” And so it was with the life of Tanzy, aka Hope Springs Tanganyika JH. She was born here at Hope Springs in January of 2009. As all puppies are, she was a beautiful baby, the largest female and second largest in that litter of ten. It’s still a mystery how she ended up so little, at the very bottom of the standard for Chesapeake Bay retrievers. Her mother and a sister – who we kept from another litter – were big girls, and her 85 lb. sire was a normal size. Not until she was older did she even attain 50 lbs. – weighing in at 47 or 48 lbs most of her life. But what she lacked in size, she made up for with sheer determination and a sweet disposition that won over everyone who met her, two or four legged.

Tanzy wasn’t highly titled or a mighty huntress and, in fact, it was a miracle she lived to five much less past 15 after surviving and thriving after a freak accident that left her paralyzed from the neck down as a 4 year-old. We never knew what happened; she didn’t have a mark on her and never made a sound. Looking uncomfortable in the morning, she was ambulatory but not herself. By lunch time she could barely walk, and had to be carried into the vet’s two hours later. All available tests were normal so we ended up taking her to a specialist for overnight, since she had to be on fluids and a catheter. The next morning saw no change, so I had two choices: euthanasia or take her to a new veterinary neurology practice an hour away, where better diagnostics including an MRI were available. Everyone who knows me knew that was an easy choice.

At the neurology practice in Leesburg, the MRI revealed two badly broken vertebrae in her neck. But the neurology vet assured me she had a good chance, they did spinal surgeries routinely with over 90% success. While her surgery wouldn’t be routine, I liked the odds and wrote the check. When she was discharged five days after surgery, I wondered if I’d made a huge mistake. The poor girl couldn’t even raise her head or wag her tail. But I had explored rehab options and delivered her to what was probably the finest dog rehab specialist in the area, also in Leesburg.

The first day of rehab was discouraging. I posted a video clip on social media of Tanzy in the water treadmill with the rehab guy. He had to put a life vest on her and hold her head up; to keep the incision and staples on her neck out of water while she took her tentative first steps. It was pitiful, but it garnered her a huge internet following cheering her on. She improved daily, by leaps and bounds and two weeks after the accident, she walked out of there (with the help of a harness) and came home. We continued rehab on an outpatient basis, utilizing cold laser, acupuncture, range of motion exercises and water treadmill.

Almost a year after the surgery, Tanzy made nearly a full recovery. Only if you knew her well would you notice subtle things like her slightly herky jerky gait and lack of ability to do the full body shake like normal wet dogs. Needless to say, per her vet team, a retrieving career was out.

Perhaps due to the extensive rehab, she remained the best house dog I’d ever had. She was content just to be near her people and the other dogs here. She swam, ran and played like a normal dog. She had her second litter of pups. Of her two small litters her babies were beautiful and normal to large sized; the only reason I never kept one was that all of them were males.

Tanzy was also the unofficial nanny of the other litters born here as her quiet non-threatening ways and gentle demeanor meant the other mothers here never felt threatened so they allowed her to interact with their puppies at a very young age. She also taught many young dogs, from puppy to 12 months, to swim. Because she was little and maternal, they trusted her and she was never rowdy or rambunctious around them knocking them over or scaring them the way the other dogs, including their own mothers, could be.

Everyone should have a Tanzy in their life. Friendly and welcoming everywhere she went. She warmed a room with her presence. When I was stricken with COVID and came home weak and bedridden, she laid quietly beside me. The only anxiety she ever showed was after we lost her beloved big sister, Der. Tanzy was 13 and quietly gnawed on the cypress siding of the house and wore her top teeth down to the gums. We have no hard proof animals grieve when they lose a friend, but I’m sure they do. Not long after that, we both suffered from glaucoma and it became an eyedrops factory here. Hers was only in one eye. My eyes were helped, but we couldn’t get the pressure down in hers so she had an eye removed at 14. This too she handled with equanimity and grace.

That she lived to 15 years, one month and one day is a tribute to a beautiful life. We said good bye in the room where she was born, since her holistic rehab vet does house calls. She’s buried in our dog graveyard, with her family that left us before her. We don’t yet have a tree picked out—each grave has a flowering tree planted in memory of that dog. But I think we’ve decided on a pink dogwood. The pet cemetery has pink, white, lilac and blue blooms from April through August from redbuds, dogwoods, vitex and crape myrtle trees.