Farewell to our dear little dog daughter

     We loved her the moment we saw her, the only one in the litter with a crook at the end of her tail, curved like Cape Cod.

     Between her propensity for trying to escape from the box that contained her and the rest of the brood and the date when we picked her up, July 4, it was clear we should call her Liberty.  She always lived up to that name, escaping and running like the wind at every opportunity and doing “turbo-dog” circles around our other, younger, canine adoptee, Chewbacca.

     Isn’t it strange how an animal can capture your heart? I loved watching her ears bob as she trotted along on a walk, her sweet furry smell, the way she gave me a good-morning lick/kiss at the bottom of the stairs every day, her freedom-seeking ways, her constancy.

     We had her for 15 ½ years.

     Today’s was one “first-ever” activity I never wanted to have, saying goodbye to her.

     The cancer with which she was diagnosed some 16 months ago had been beaten back all this time with radiation and gentle chemotherapy pills, but it finally prevailed, as that horrible illness too often does.

     Our vet agreed to come to the house. Just beforehand, we took her for one last walk, savored the sight of her bobbing ears and sniffing curiosity, brought her in for some ice cream and held her while the injections were administered.

     I haven’t cried this hard in a long time.

     Tonight, Rick and I and Chewbacca are trying to stick to our routine, having dinner, being together. But one of our number is missing and we all feel it.

     I try to think of what our beloved pet sitter, Donna, told us after she visited yesterday.

     Liberty is going to make one fine angel.