Annie: 199? - Nov. 21, 2005

A couple of years ago, my wife and I were given a small plaque that simply reads, "Make me the person my greyhound thinks I am."

I'd seen that sentiment expressed sometime earlier as, "Help me be the god my dog knows I am." I think that's meant to remind us of a dog's ability to love, forgive, and even more--worship--their "person", their family. It's a capacity extremely rare in Nature.

We were recently reminded of this during an encounter with a pup in a vanishing patch of shade under siege from the sun's blazing heat. She was on a chain too short, to reach a water bucket too empty. As my wife poured water for her, this puppy suddenly began wagging her entire body uncontrollably at the approach of her master who assured us his dog was fine, had water, and enough chain to reach it. None of that was true. But to the young pup, it didn't matter, for her "god" to whom she had already devotedly attached in her brief life was there.

Sadly I report after a very encouraging Saturday and early Sunday, things for Annie began to worsen Sunday evening. It was a very, very long and painful night for that most beautiful companion. The pain medications weren't helping. All she had to fall back on was the little support we could give her (which she literally did on a number of occasions).

By morning, Annie was unable to get up and from her eyes we could see part of her had left during the dark hours. The sudden pain that had stolen her beautiful spirit left her totally at our mercies. As we hoisted her onto a stretcher for her trip to the vet, those haunting words returned to me: "Help me be the god my dog knows I am."

My wife and I each detest the role of being a god, but gods we played yesterday morning. And truth be known, we believe it is the animals that are far more godly than we can ever hope to be. Annie is gone. So is her pain. She is at peace. And it was we who worshipped.