1996ish to 2011

She just showed up one day on a run in the foothills.  She followed me at a distance of about 4 feet for 6ish miles out and back to my door. 

It took a few days before she'd come any closer.

I do not know where she came from, but she was a tough dog.  For the first 10 years she was perpetually injured or bleeding from some choice she made that involved speed and teeth. 

She started slowing down, way down this last year.  Now walking is tough. 

We always figured she'd spontaneously combust; get hit by lightning, killed in action— or just disappear racing across the desert after some wild fast animal and we'd never see her again.

She was independant. 

She loved ..or hated, who knows…was passionate about – moving water, oven timers, the conclusion of squirrels.  Insects.  She liked to be petted ONLY in MODERATION.  A wag was a rare gift from Hank's stub of a tail.  She approved of a hose being ON but not IN anything. She didn't LIKE other dogs, but she didn't HATE other dogs, she just didn't see a point. 
This was true of a lot of things – We assumed her to be a nihilist. 

Now she likes sleep. It's the only place she gets to run and kill squirrels any more.   So….

RIP crazy fucking heeler.  Thanks for all those miles in the foothills.