I said good bye to my best friend today. As I held my beloved shepherd mix close to my chest and sobbed, I thought back to the day we adopted her from the animal shelter where I worked some 10 years ago. She was so excited on the drive home it's a wonder she did not suffer permanent neck damage from swinging her head so often and so quickly from side to side. There was so much to see and so little time, as trees and building, cars and people passed her by through the window. My son, who sat in the passenger's seat and was 6 years old at the time, asked me if she was always going to be so hyper. I told him that Dana, as we all agreed would be her name, had been waiting for us in a cage at the animal shelter and that she was very excited about what was happening, where she was going and her new adventure.
That was ten years ago, where had the time gone? Memories of our life together flooded my mind as she slowly slipped into a deep peaceful sleep. My vet stood beside us in silent support, respecting the little time we had left together.
I remembered the time when Dana and I joined a flyball class. She loved to play ball and had a reliable recall, two of the preferred prerequisites, so off we went. Dana was always a quick study and after hitting the ball box a few times, she had figured out how to make the ball spring out of the hole. Going over the set of four jumps was not her favourite part of the game, but if it meant getting that ball she was in. However, once she hit the box and had the ball, she had her own way of playing flyball. Her game entailed throwing the ball into the air and catching it. If she missed, it meant chasing the runaway ball through and around the other dogs and people and then, once the ball had been retrieved, it was imperative that she show everyone in the class that she had the ball. She was indeed a character, a clown at heart.
When we moved to New Jersey, I took on a shelter manager's job and often brought home orphaned, immature kittens. Dana took the job of mothering these poor waifs very seriously and would lay for hours by their crate and watch while the kittens slept. The moment she heard a hungry chirp, she was up pacing and telling me they were awake. After each kitten had been bottled fed, Dana would lick their sticky faces clean and watch as I carefully put them back into their crate. Being a fairly sound sleeper, Dana woke me on several occasions throughout the night to let me know our hungry kittens needed attention.
Over the years, Dana's gentle nature touched the lives of close to 70 foster dogs who blessed our home. Her patient, nurturing and peaceable way never wavered and I often marvelled at her adaptability skills.
For our two sons, Dana was a confidante, companion, educator and comfort. She was always available on a moments notice for a consultation and was an excellent listener. She did not interrupt, offer her own expert opinion or pass judgement. She just listened and offered a paw if the situation called for one.
Whenever any of us arrived home we could always count on Dana's genuine ecstatic welcome. You're home! I've missed you, so glad to see you! In her enthusiasm, her large frame and long tail would often knock plants and knick knacks askew.
What I wouldn't do to have just one more greeting from my dear friend.
Dana Houston, Adopted 1993 passed over to The Rainbow Bridge September 8, 2003
Dana, you taught us well. You embraced each new day pure of heart. No grudges, malice, prejudices or contempt. Your love was unconditional.
We would have moved heaven and earth to rid you of the cancer that stole your flesh, but nothing humanly possible could be done. All I could offer you was freedom and to be there for you until we meet again.
Now that the cancer can no longer consume your body, rest in peace my friend. My heart aches for you.
