Warning: sentimental post about dead pet ahead.

It's been exactly one year today since my sweet Sadie girl died of lung cancer. There's a weird sort of time warp thing happening for me--it feels like it happened years ago, and it feels like it happened just yesterday.


Doesn't she have the sweetest face you ever saw? Every time we went to the vet, every single time, one of the workers there would say that--"doesn't she have the cutest face?" The sympathy card from my vet (who LOVED Sadie, and actually offered to take her from me years ago, if I ever needed to find a home for her--not a chance, of course) also made reference to her sweet face.

She was a very sweet dog. When she wasn't being the scariest thing you ever saw. She considered everything she could see out of the windows HER territory, and anyone, man or beast, who walked past the house was reason to sound the alarm. And sound it she did! She'd bark loudly and run in frantic circles around the living room until the danger had passed. The cats knew to get out of her way, and when my dog Pudge came to live with us, he quickly learned it, too. She particularly hated the evil mailman, and somehow she even knew his truck. It was eerie. He never parked in front of my house, she never saw him getting in or out of the truck, and yet, when the mail truck passed by the house she went crazy.

Of course, anyone daring enough to actually come in the house was in grave danger--danger of being licked to death! She figured that anyone I allowed in was a friend, and her favorite way of showing her affection to her friends was with that enormous, washcloth-like tongue! I once re-entered the living room to find my brother, who was visiting from California, and who'd never met Sadie before, pinned helplessly on the couch while Sadie sat on top of him, enthusiastically licking his face. He was primarily helpless from the giggles, of course.

I never intended to keep Sadie. I wasn't in the market for another dog. But a friend called in a panic. They'd found a mother dog and puppies behind his workplace--would I help? Of course I said yes, and he loaded her and the puppies into a truck and brought them to my house. The plan was to keep them in my garage until homes could be found. But it was December, and the unheated garage was cold, and soon Sadie and her babies found their way into my bathroom. Over the course of the next few weeks, I found homes for all seven puppies. No one wanted Sadie, of course, a big black adult dog of indeterminate parentage. I got her on the waiting list at the SPCA--they said they'd call me the next time they were taking dogs, to see if she still needed a home, and warned that it might be a few months. They called about 3 months later. "Do you still have the dog?" I do. "Do you want to bring her in?" I started blathering. I know I should, I don't need another dog, but she's really sweet, but I KNOW I should bring her in, but she's been here for months now and I KNOW I SHOULD BRING HER IN, but she feels like family.... The woman was kind. "Why don't you think about it, and give us a call later if you want to bring her in." Of course, I never made that call.

Best decision I never made. She was a great dog, one of those that just grabs your heart and won't let go. She wasn't always an easy dog, she complicated my life in more ways than one, but she was a great dog.

Pudge and I miss you, Sadie girl.