God saw she was getting tired
And a cure was not to be.
So he put his arms around her,
and whispered "Come with me."
I remember the first time I saw Sally. Lori Walburn owned her and brought her to one of our co-rec softball games. I thought "what a pretty dog." But then Lori got up to bat. Sally barked incessantly while Lori was batting. I then thought, "what an annoying dog." Little did I know I would end up owning her a few years later.
The next time I ran into Sally was a phone call from an ex-girlfriend. A friend of a friend had a dog she wanted to get rid of because she couldn't keep her off the furniture. I was living in a rental house, and still had Willy and was possibly getting two other dogs, Phoebe and Molly. The last thing I needed was another dog. I politely said no.
About a week later, in June 1999, this friend of a friend called me one evening. It turned out to be Ginnie Passaggiata, Frank Pase's daughter. She said she was taking Sally to the pound, and wanted to give me one last chance to adopt her. Being a softy, and knowing this dog was probably on her way to euthanization, I said to bring her by and we would see how it worked out. Sally walked through the door, and I remembered thinking, "I've never seen such a fat dog." But she had these warm brown eyes, and seemed to want to stay with me, so I told Ginnie I would keep her for a week or so and see how she got along with Willy. Willy was a loner, and I didn't think he would want another dog around. To my surprise, Sally was a loner too, and they peacefully coexisted, mostly staying out of each other's way. I didn't remember Sally from when Lori had her, and Ginnie couldn't tell me anything about her history.
I will always remember getting home from work and opening the side door. Willy would come bouncing in, bouncing all the way across the living room, and Sally would wag her tail and try; to hump my leg. Weird.
I remember the first time I took Sally fishing. It was a disaster. It seems she felt the same way about fishing poles as she did about softball bats. As soon as I tried to cast, she began barking incessantly and trying to attack the fishing pole! Nothing I said or did could stop her from her constant attacks on the pole. She even got it in her mouth and began running down the bank with it. I got it away from her, but as long as I had a line in the water, she was attacking the pole.
Around this time, I learned that Sally had belonged to not just one, but three friends of mine. Mark Finley said he recognized her. Sally belonged to his son, Adrian for a while. Other friends, Kurt & Kathy Richter, used to dogsit Sally. It turns out Lori got the dog from Mark. I don't know if Lori gave Sally to Ginnie, but I'm glad she found her way to me.
In August 2001, Sally began swelling in her belly, vomiting, wouldn't eat, and just didn't seem to have any energy anymore. In an exploratory surgery, my vet removed five liters of fluid from her belly, but said her organs appeared normal. I thought she had just given up. After a trip to K-State for a battery of tests, Sally was diagnosed with either leukemia or Hyper Eosinophilic syndrome (high white blood cell count). We started her on prednisone, which made a world of difference in her. Her appetite returned with a vengeance, and she commenced to humping my leg again.
Her recovery was short-lived, however. In late September, she began running out energy again and mostly laid around. Her left front elbow began swelling, and eventually a bubble that formed there ruptured. The skin around the rupture just kept tearing, and her leg bone was clearly visible. The wound got infected, and Sally was infested with fleas that just wouldn't die despite several treatments. I decided to end her misery, and had her put down on October 10, 2001.
Although I didn't want her initially, Sally turned out to be a pleasant and faithful dog. A few days before her demise, a large, mean-looking Bull Mastiff appeared in our yard. I was trying to coax it over to me to see if it was wearing tags. Sally was laying on the other side of the yard knawing on a huge rawhide bone she stole from the neighbor's dog, and was oblivious to the presence of the Bull Mastiff. My coaxing apparently alerted Sally to the presence of this intruder. She struggled to get up, but then, big bone hanging out the end of her mouth and all, Sally trotted over to take on the Mastiff, grunting with every step. Even with all her health problems, Sally wouldn't hesitate to protect me or her turf. She will be sorely missed. God Bless you, Sally, and say hello to Willy for me.
And a cure was not to be.
So he put his arms around her,
and whispered "Come with me."
With tearful eyes we watched her suffer,
and saw her fade away.
Although we couldn't bear to lose her,
we could not bid her stay.
A golden heart stopped beating,
hard working paws laid to rest.
God broke our hearts to prove to us,
he only takes the best.
I remember the first time I saw Sally. Lori Walburn owned her and brought her to one of our co-rec softball games. I thought "what a pretty dog." But then Lori got up to bat. Sally barked incessantly while Lori was batting. I then thought, "what an annoying dog." Little did I know I would end up owning her a few years later.
The next time I ran into Sally was a phone call from an ex-girlfriend. A friend of a friend had a dog she wanted to get rid of because she couldn't keep her off the furniture. I was living in a rental house, and still had Willy and was possibly getting two other dogs, Phoebe and Molly. The last thing I needed was another dog. I politely said no.
About a week later, in June 1999, this friend of a friend called me one evening. It turned out to be Ginnie Passaggiata, Frank Pase's daughter. She said she was taking Sally to the pound, and wanted to give me one last chance to adopt her. Being a softy, and knowing this dog was probably on her way to euthanization, I said to bring her by and we would see how it worked out. Sally walked through the door, and I remembered thinking, "I've never seen such a fat dog." But she had these warm brown eyes, and seemed to want to stay with me, so I told Ginnie I would keep her for a week or so and see how she got along with Willy. Willy was a loner, and I didn't think he would want another dog around. To my surprise, Sally was a loner too, and they peacefully coexisted, mostly staying out of each other's way. I didn't remember Sally from when Lori had her, and Ginnie couldn't tell me anything about her history.
I will always remember getting home from work and opening the side door. Willy would come bouncing in, bouncing all the way across the living room, and Sally would wag her tail and try; to hump my leg. Weird.
I remember the first time I took Sally fishing. It was a disaster. It seems she felt the same way about fishing poles as she did about softball bats. As soon as I tried to cast, she began barking incessantly and trying to attack the fishing pole! Nothing I said or did could stop her from her constant attacks on the pole. She even got it in her mouth and began running down the bank with it. I got it away from her, but as long as I had a line in the water, she was attacking the pole.
Around this time, I learned that Sally had belonged to not just one, but three friends of mine. Mark Finley said he recognized her. Sally belonged to his son, Adrian for a while. Other friends, Kurt & Kathy Richter, used to dogsit Sally. It turns out Lori got the dog from Mark. I don't know if Lori gave Sally to Ginnie, but I'm glad she found her way to me.
In August 2001, Sally began swelling in her belly, vomiting, wouldn't eat, and just didn't seem to have any energy anymore. In an exploratory surgery, my vet removed five liters of fluid from her belly, but said her organs appeared normal. I thought she had just given up. After a trip to K-State for a battery of tests, Sally was diagnosed with either leukemia or Hyper Eosinophilic syndrome (high white blood cell count). We started her on prednisone, which made a world of difference in her. Her appetite returned with a vengeance, and she commenced to humping my leg again.
Her recovery was short-lived, however. In late September, she began running out energy again and mostly laid around. Her left front elbow began swelling, and eventually a bubble that formed there ruptured. The skin around the rupture just kept tearing, and her leg bone was clearly visible. The wound got infected, and Sally was infested with fleas that just wouldn't die despite several treatments. I decided to end her misery, and had her put down on October 10, 2001.
Although I didn't want her initially, Sally turned out to be a pleasant and faithful dog. A few days before her demise, a large, mean-looking Bull Mastiff appeared in our yard. I was trying to coax it over to me to see if it was wearing tags. Sally was laying on the other side of the yard knawing on a huge rawhide bone she stole from the neighbor's dog, and was oblivious to the presence of the Bull Mastiff. My coaxing apparently alerted Sally to the presence of this intruder. She struggled to get up, but then, big bone hanging out the end of her mouth and all, Sally trotted over to take on the Mastiff, grunting with every step. Even with all her health problems, Sally wouldn't hesitate to protect me or her turf. She will be sorely missed. God Bless you, Sally, and say hello to Willy for me.
If you think the world is being rough on you, read
this
.