Puppy came to live with us 11 years ago. Like almost all of our dogs, she was unwanted by someone else - dumped here at our "house in the country". Most disturbing about Puppy's start here with us - was the fact that she was just a young puppy - not much past weaning age - and she ended up in the bushes in front of our house on sub-zero January night. The struggle with sub-zero temps would later prove to challenge her throughout her entire life.

Winter of 2013 was one of the worst on record, and in spite of my best efforts, EVERYONE (including us) was cold and miserable. The internet was full of heart-wrenching stories of dogs freezing to death outside, contrasted by dozens of hilarious videos of dogs wearing protective booties on their feet for the first time. We were somewhere in between - my dogs have warm shelter, but farm dogs don't wear booties. After one particularly trying night spent thawing stuff, warming horse and dog gruel, and watching dogs with freezing feet try to find the best place to potty, it occurred to me that it would not be many more winters before it could be necessary to make a tough decision for Puppy's best interest. She'd slipped on the ice and had an injured shoulder - so was lame on 3 of her 4 legs in that terrible cold and deep snow. 

Later that night, I plopped down in front of the computer for some distraction and instead am greeted by this verse by John Katz: 

In the morning, the Divine Old Dog finds the sun, 

she looks to me, she seems to be asking me something, 

"where am I in life?" I think, 

"what is happening to me?" 

My legs, she says, are sore, 

they don't carry me far or fast, 

I can't catch that chipmunk in the yard, 

I have always loved to run in the snows, 

but my paws sting in the cold, 

I need the sun, 

like a cat. 

I know where you are, Divine Old Dog, 

I say, this is the glory and mystery of life,  

fix yourself on the scent of light 

and life, 

hunt for peace and comfort, 

that is your work now, 

Divine Old Girl. 

And her eyes say thank you, 

they are filled with love and gratitude, 

I will still protect you, she says, 

to the end, 

I know, I say, I know. 

She looks at me once more, 

can I talk to you again? 

Anytime, anytime. 

But it was forgotten, as we endured the hard winter, and just a few weeks later saw me posting this picture; my old, lame dog had spent days canvassing our farm pond, swimming in icy water, sniffing, chasing, DOING HER WORK. The whole family gives a collective cheer when one of these muskrats are dispatched, as they cause serious damage to pond banks.

Winter of 2014 saw us enduring the same shocking cold early in the season. I braced myself for more of the same, but am relieved when it warms up. Muskrat activity was early last year, but the water's not frozen so the dogs spend their days patrolling, swimming, and digging. Now, a dog digging in pursuit of vermin is not very dainty about how they treat their nose. In fact, they use it a bit like a shovel. So, when Puppy-Girl shows up with a nosebleed, we suspect that aggressive digging has brought it on. We can't find an obvious injury, she acts fine and the bleeding subsides, so we give it no more thought.  But, weeks later, we find out that we are wrong about the digging causing the nosebleed. It resumes, in a very bad way, and a subsequent trip to the vet reveals a grim prognosis - cancer.
The warehouse became a doggy hospice. Puppy eats her special meals with gusto. She mopes, and then she rallies. Most days she runs around, patrolling and barking. You'd never would have suspected she was dying.
Eventually, the bad hours start to outnumber the good. As with all animal keepers, we monitor, consider, consult the internet, cry, monitor some more... I've been through this many times and I just can't seem to get any better at it. We did the best we could, and with the help of the kind folks at Alexandria Animal Hospital, Puppy-Girl went to Heaven on Friday afternoon in January 2015.
I posted the sad news on Facebook, and a friend shared the picture above as condolences. I cannot find the artist, so can't share that info, but I love that it depicts a black lab.

And another friend highlighted a portion of John Katz's verse above, it's so very fitting now in memory of my hard-working Puppy-Girl:

My prayer book's unconventional, 

An Album scarred with age. 

The dogs who shared their lives with mine 

Stand out on every page. 

The Spaniels of my childhood days, 

All floppy ears and fluff; 

The Dobermans who shared my bed, 

Magnificent and tough. 

Though some folks picture Heaven's gates 

Atop a golden stair, 

The precious photos in my book inspire this humble prayer: 

Lord, lead me to a sun-washed field, 

Then send them one by one; 

Let yelps of joy lead wagging tails as to my arms they run. 

Sad eyes so pleading, paws that beg, 

A symphony of barks 

Invite a romp in fragrant grass to songs of meadowlarks. 

This Heaven that I pray for, Lord, 

Where lilacs scent the air, 

Is blessed with all the dogs I've loved 

A few years ago our German Shepherd Zack had a very serious altercation with the mail lady's SUV. He was gravely injured and spent several days at the doggy ER. Now Zack is a big, scary-looking dog. He apparently behaved rather badly at the clinic as there was a big sign on his cage that said "BITES". When we went to see him, he was in such pain and was so wild-eyed we thought he might bite us, too. The days stretched on and he wasn't improving. He was too bad to bring home, but not doing well there, either. Not to mention the cost. The staff was obviously eager to get him out of there and they were all pretty grim whenever we showed up for an update. There didn't seem to be a lot of compassion for the big, black, scary looking dog. And not much for us, either. They complained that he wouldn't eat. And told us that only one tech could get him to eat - if she sat with him and fed him by hand. Now, looking back, I suspect that one tech who ignored the "BITES" sign and took the time to hand feed my frightened, hurting dog, may have been the one who really saved his life. I wish I'd had one of these angel figurines back then to have given to her.