Well done, good and faithful servant

I just received word that the Anderson's beloved friend Lucy has passed away. Their hearts are broken at their loss. Please pray that God would provide the healing for their hearts and peace for their spirits at this very, very tough time.

It's the only flaw dogs have really, they live too few years. The following is the post I wrote when Lucy came home with them almost 6 years ago. 

"A dog is the only thing on this earth that loves you more than he loves himself." Josh Billings

Things are about to change at the Anderson's house.

Lucy the dog is coming to her forever home.

To look at the Andersons you wouldn't think they lacked a thing - they are a great family. Awesome dad and mom and great son -my friend Ian. They even have a cat.

But they've lacked something without really knowing it. They've lacked the love of dog.

From the earliest recorded history, people and dogs have been together. Of all the species that inhabit this earth, none has bonded with humans like the dog. Countless stories have been written about dogs that found their way home over hundreds of miles, that remained faithful to owners who had passed away, who gave everything they had as long as they could. Dogs have given their lives to save us, have rescued us from all manners of harm, and warned us of dangers we could never have seen. They've lowered our blood pressure and given us someone to talk to.

But their greatest work is in giving us a living example of how to love unconditionally.

The love of dog.

Sometime Sunday afternoon, Lucy the dog will come home.

And that home will never be the same.

Eulogy for a Sheltie

Every Wednesday for the last few years, my Subaru wagon would roll into the driveway in Valparaiso and two things would happen - I'd deliver some meals to the family, and I'd be greeted by their dog. He was a beautiful Sheltie - like a miniature collie - and announced my arrival by "talking" to me and coming to me to be petted.

If he wasn't at the front of the house, his owner would say "your friend is here" and he'd come waddling down the hall. He wasn't fat - but he sure was fluffy. Okay, he was kind of fat.

Over the years we had formed a bond.

But last week he finished his race. Cancer took him away.

When I rolled into the driveway, the older woman and her son were both outside. As I was walking to the door I heard them talking and finish with "you tell him." Neither one could look up for a moment after the words were spoken.

So I said, "he was a good dog."

And that was enough to start the tears.

For five minutes I heard about a puppy that brought life into the family, and tales of times when he comforted, when he took the day's pain away burst forth.

It was like being at a funeral listening to the eulogies of the family. I've been to a many of them, hear a lot of words.

But you know, it's pretty hard to top...

He was a good dog.

And he was.

The Day We Said Goodbye - Remembering the Heart of a Dog

It was 4 years ago today when, on a day gray, dark, and pouring rain, my son and I knelt beside one of the best friends we will ever have, our big Great Dane named Henley. We were waiting for the veterinarian to come into the room with the Xrays that would confirm what we really already knew. Cancer was working hard to bring our big boy down. It wasn't the first time we had been in that room.

A few months earlier, Henley had fallen desperately ill with an infection. We stood in that same room as one of the vets told us that there probably wasn't anything to do except either to wait for him to die, or to put him down. We brought him home, carrying all 155 pounds out of that office on a quilt. Thanks to the skilled help of another vet who was a friend, and all our our complete dedication to his care, we pulled him through, only to find ourselves 6 months later being told the same thing as before.

Due to the chance that the leg bone, riddled with cancer, might snap and plunge Henley into instant and torturing pain, this time we gave away a few days or months of chances to love and be loved, and held him close as he fell to sleep and then away from us forever. I hope he knew how much he was loved, and that what we did was the hardest thing we have ever done.

There are still times when I come through the door and think about his greetings. 155 pounds of complete and utter joy mixed with love as he pranced and wiggled his big form, all the while making that "woo woo woo" love growl that we all loved to hear. Still times I see that big collar of his and wish he was in it. Our Airedales are awesome and we love them fiercely. But I have to confess that there's nothing like a Dane.

From the first moment Bunny and I saw that face, already impossibly big for a dog his age, we were smitten. He was our dog and we were his. The years that followed saw us share lots of adventures and a few hardships - but every time I came through the door, I knew that greeting was coming. We took him with us on trips to Dallas, to Savannah, and many times to Macon. It was always funny to see the looks from people in small towns along the way when out of the back of our Kia Sportage came "the horse." One time in Colquitt a family made a complete circle of the Hardees just so their kids could see Henley again. What I'd give to see him again.

That's the only flaw in Great Danes, really. They are subject to the same mortality as we are, even more so as their lives average 7-10 years. We had 7, and they were the best.

So thank you God, for such an amazing gift. I'll continue praying that out of your mercy, you'll see fit to let us see him again, and experience the joy of that reunion.

“You think those dogs will not be in heaven! I tell you they will be there long before any of us.” 
― Robert Louis Stevenson

Faithful and True - Well Done, Oliver the Schnauzer

Our friends gave their faithful companion of 13.5 years, Oliver the miniature schnauzer, his release from this life to the next today. It is a release because in the last little while Oliver's little body has stopped working so well. He couldn't hear or see, and didn't even know to take one of his beloved treats unless it was placed in his mouth.

I've known Oliver all his life, and have known his owners/friends for a little while longer. I've seen the joy he brings them. I've rubbed his head and scratched behind his ears. He was the personification of what a dog brings - unconditional love, unbridled joy. He was a good dog.

So it shouldn't surprise anyone that when anyone has to say goodbye to a close friend who has not only shared time with them but enriched that time immensely...

It hurts.

And it will hurt.

The only thing worse than losing a friend like Oliver...

... is never knowing his love at all.

Godspeed, my friend.

We Both Ate Lucky Charms For Breakfast Yesterday

Lucy in better days

Spent some time yesterday with some of my favorite young people - Kira Stoy, Sydney Hoskinson, and Ian Anderson. Bunny had the girls in our Honda so Mr. Ian and I headed out in my car. Ian and I have a lot in common.

- We both ate Lucky Charms for breakfast yesterday
- We both wonder about things like physics and natural laws that other people don't
- We both love science fiction
- We both get our geek on, obviously

Yesterday though we had lots of fun looking at the high tech tools in Home Depot and Office Depot, and though we shared a love of pizza at Cici's (he ate at least 9 pieces, I ate 4), we also talked about something we share that neither of us ever wanted.

You see Ian's friend Lucy the dog is dying from a brain tumor.

I know how that feels.

Our friend Henley the Great Dane had bone cancer with no hope of a cure, and the weeks between knowing something was wrong and the understanding that it was cancer were awful. We couldn't look at him without crying. We kept praying it would go away, but it didn't.

It wasn't our first experience with the death of a furry friend though.

For Ian, Lucy was his first encounter with the incredible, lavish generosity of a dog's love. She converted a cat-loving boy to someone who would come into my office and talk about what Lucy did yesterday, or tell me about the photos on his phone. She came into the family unexpectedly - rescued while they were on vacation in Alabama - and was adopted into their hearts and lives. Joy with fur. But now came sorrow, deep.

So when he talked about it yesterday, eyes clouding up as he did, I was listening and praying for God to pour every ounce of grace and mercy into my friend's heart. "Bear each other's burdens..." is commanded in Scripture, but I knew that the best I could do is pray for God to touch the heart of my young friend, and help him begin to work it out.

Pray for the Anderson family. Pray for Ian. Pray for Lucy.

And thank God for dogs - for the ONLY thing worse than saying goodbye to one is never having been loved by one at all. Even in death, they teach us how to live.

What Dogs Teach Us

His name was "Gordo" and he was loved by everyone who came in contact with him, but especially by his best friend Michael. Gordo passed away this weekend after a month or so of illness, baffling the doctors and breaking everyone's heart.

We LOVE dogs around here, so I thought I'd try to explain a little of the "why?" today for those who don't understand or worse - are cat people. :)

Dogs help teach us how to love. Not just the scratch behind the ears kind of love, but love that takes responsibility for the welfare of another living being. You receive the love everyday from your dog, and not only are you inspired to try and be the person your dog thinks you are, but you look out for him - feed him - care for him - sacrifice for him.

Dogs teach us that responsibility isn't an event, it's a way of living. If you want your child to learn responsibility, you don't go and buy an Easter chic - buy a dog. Dogs like to be fed regularly, enjoy a cool drink of water as well, and they require frequent trips for relief, relaxation, and exercise. They aren't an event - they are a regular part of the ebb and flow of everyday life - more than you ever realize - until you lose one to death.

Dogs teach us about that too. Many of us have our first real encounter with the finality and heartbreaking loss that death brings when our dogs pass away. Just know that when you buy your child a puppy, that they will have to deal with the loss of that faithful friend one day, and it's going to hurt. A lot. My first dog was a collie named Cheyenne and one day when he followed me to the mailbox, the garbage truck came by and he chased and caught it. Still as vivid today as it was then. When we lost our Great Dane (Henley) to cancer, it was a tear in the fabric of our hearts that's still healing nearly two years later. The only thing worse than losing a dog is never having one to love at all.

Dogs and mankind have been companions for centuries now and dogs have proven the "man's best friend" quip to be true thousands upon thousands of times over. Unlike other pets, they see their "master" as worthy of everything they can give. So when something like the untimely death of "Gordo" happens, forgive all of us who love dogs when we ache with Michael. It's just we know what he has lost.

Here's hoping that in time, Michael will find another pup to love, care for, and be loved by.

Dogs rule.

It's Been A Year Today - Henley the Great Dane

"He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog.
You are his life, his love, and his leader. He will be yours,
faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart.
You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion."

-- Unknown

He was all of that and more to the very last heartbeat one year ago today, as we spared him cancer's clawing and ripping at the expense of our own hearts being rent in two. We could have held onto him a few more days, maybe weeks. We could have maimed him and kept him a few months longer. But with everything Henley gave us - the unselfish love he poured into our hearts over seven years - the thought of him in pain meant parting way before we were ready to.

Great Danes don't live as long as other dogs anyway, and we knew that. We knew that sooner rather than later we'd lose him. But as every year past, we pushed reality out a little farther. We nursed him through a sickness earlier last year that had one of the vets giving up on him. Bringing him home, we fed him rice and chicken by the spoonful, slept on the floor beside him for five nights, carried him outside using a towel under his waist to help him stand when he was so, so weak. And he came back to us. We had another four months of joy until the lump on his back leg kept growing. Cancer. It riddled the bone to the point that the next step he made could have broken the leg and plunged him into pain. We laid on the floor again with him at the Vet's office as he closed his eyes for the last time in this world.

One year ago today.

He was the very best dog we have ever known. Henley the Great Dane affected us in ways few creatures that have ever lived on this earth have. Even now, one year later, not a day goes by that we don't miss him fiercely, and tears are not an infrequent sight on Bunny or my face.

He was awesome. I'm praying with all my heart that I will see him again someday.

It Still Hurts

One of the last pictures of Henley I have. If you notice, he's not putting much weight on his left rear leg. When you know what to look for, you can see that the "hock" is enlarged. That's where the cancer was. The bones of his leg were riddled with cancer to such a point that he could have stepped wrong at any point and broken it. We didn't know the extent of the danger at this point. But when the vet showed us the X-rays... we made the painful decision  to put him to sleep.One of the hardest things we have ever done, but we couldn't bear the thought of him in that pain.

Lord knows we miss him. It hurts. We'd give almost anything to have him back.

But I believe God gave us Henley and that He is even now in God's care. The Bible says that the soul of every creature is in God's hand. (Job 10:12) One day, my hope is to feel that velvet nose nudging my hand, and that great big body leaning against me. It'll make heaven even more special.

Until then, we have two great Airedale pups to love and be loved by, and we WILL have another Great Dane. But it still hurts.

To Love, Again

We brought home two Airedales Friday from a rescue organization. They had been placed with a family in Florida and it didn't work out, because the family lived on a farm where wild dogs, coyotes, and snakes caused a threat to them. The female was actually bitten by a snake and that was the tipping point. They are two years old.

The contrast between them and our dear friend Henley the Great Dane is wide and it's not just the difference in size. Henley had been ours since twelve weeks of age, and was conditioned over years to be a very loving dog. He was human dependent. Came wherever you were in the house. Laid down next to you on the sofa. Rejoiced when you came home and grieved when you were gone. Towards the end of his time with us, he was even more clingy and loving.

The greatest thing Henley did for us with that kind of love was that in his giving of it, he took away our stresses and anxieties. There's just something about having a dog lying next to you and being in a state of total calm that causes the human beside them to relax too. From his beginning nuzzle to day's end sigh as he laid down next to the bed, we received a blessing that we had no idea how much we would miss. Bunny and I were at Petsmart Saturday and were both moved to tears talking about just how much we were loved.

Now we have two funny faced Airedales in our home. They are energetic. They are independent. They are self entertaining. They are NOT Henley.

We are trying to love them the way we loved Henley, and they - in particular the girl - Stevie, is beginning to respond. She'll let you put her beside you on the couch and stay there a while. The boy -Mick, can be loving when he chooses to, but still pulls away when you try to draw him near. They have improved since we brought them home Friday, but we really, really need them to love us as fiercely as Henley did. Doesn't have to be the exact same expressions of love. There are things the Airedales do that are unique and cool. But we need to bond with them as fast as we can. Otherwise we might as well not have dogs at all, and they need to be with a family that can love them as they are.

If I sound disappointed it's because I am. It's proving much harder for us to love again.

Would you pray for us?

Sighs Instead of Slobbers

One of the things that marked Henley's last few days was his change in seating arrangements. Until his leg began to bother him, 90% of the time he'd lay beside me on the love seat, and would occasionally visit Bunny on the couch. He'd lie down at the opposite end from her most of the time. In his last days, he seemed to want to be next to her more. We found out it was probably that he was already hurting. But when this was taken, three days before he left us, we thought he just wanted to be close. And he did.

Nighttime is absolutely the worst.

Still Missing Henley

This is the top of the Tupperware container that holds our hot dogs. Henley LOVED hot dogs. he probably considered the day he grabbed this off the counter as one of the best events in his life.

He left his mark on the top. And he grabbed a place in our hearts forever.

I'm trying to move on, talking to dog people about Airedales, Irish Wolfhounds, even Great Danes. Taking way too long to make a decision when any of them would probably bring us a wonderful dog (or two).

But there will never, ever, ever be another Henley.

I miss him so much.

Two weeks and two days after

Sure it's getting easier. Probably am down to tearing up 5 times a day instead of 25. But it still feels awful. Empty house. Empty sofa. Quiet without those "boofs" and "woo woo woo woo" noises. No big sighs when he laid down. No "whack whack" when his tail hit the walls as his excitement showed.

We miss him.

Every Dog Was A Therapy Dog Today

It's been 5 days now since we lost our big friend Henley to bone cancer. We continue to realize all the ways he interacted with us as we lived together as a family. You just don't realize what a part of your life he was until he's gone. Grieving continues here, but we're trying.

We went to Petland the other night just to hold puppies. All of us hate what Petland does to dogs and yet we went. And there we met Caroline (Bunny named her) the Great Dane puppy. She was awesomely sweet and ridiculously expensive, with a spotty pedigree and yet we almost hit the plastic. Even Sean was captured by her. We escaped, went home, and worried about how she was doing. Still do.

Today we went out to "Dog Daze" at the beautiful Ft Walton Beach Landings park. Incredibly nice place and dogs, dogs, dogs as far as the eye could see. Every dog I petted was a therapy dog for me. Some were more responsive than others. The huge English Mastiffs were snuggly and put their paw on you like Henley used to. I got "snuffled" by an Irish Wolfhound. A golden named Zoe gave me a few moments of her love and attention. The standard schnauzer and giant schnauzers were great too, but less affectionate.

The last dog I petted was a merle dane. She gave me a big sloppy kiss. I'll bet Henley told her I needed one. I did.

We'll keep looking for another forever friend.