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posted March 16th, 2012 by
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Dec 29th, 10 a.m.

Dear Dr. Heather,

They found me unconscious on the floor this morning. I’ve heard them say I may not last the day, so I must write quickly while I still can. Thank you for making my last two months so wonderful. When John first brought me to you, my hindquarters were in such bad shape, I could barely stand or walk even a short distance. John does not use the word “magical” often, but that’s how he describes our last two months. During that time, we would sometimes walk for up to two hours, as we did in the glorious sunshine on Christmas Day. I don’t think I told you our story. In November, 1998, there was an article in the Tulsa World saying the animal shelter was putting down black Labs because there were too many. That upset John, and he went to see about adopting one. What he found was that the shelter has a very liberal definition of “black Lab.” There were no real Labs in the shelter, so John went to every cage in the shelter trying to find a dog he wanted to rescue. “Sit,” he would say to each dog. Then he would say, “Lie down.” I was in cage 39A. I was the only dog who passed the test. They told John he would have to wait three days until I was spayed, and he was second in line behind a man who’d been in town from Oklahoma City. Three days came and went. The man from Oklahoma City did not come back for me. John did, and we’ve had 13 great years together. Without John, I don’t know if I would ever have left the shelter. A mongrel born with congenital mange doesn’t have much of a chance. So while John’s other dogs were always racing to the front windows to bark at the UPS driver or sleeping on his bed, I never did. I always stayed in the room where John was so I could look out for him. You know, I never had any grand adventures. The trip to your office was the farthest I ever went from my backyard, but I’ve had a wonderful life. I will miss licking little Isabella and watching her grow up.

All my love always,