I don't know who to attribute the above quote or photo to, so I apologize for that. It came to me from Pinterest, and it is sadly appropriate for today. Today is the fourth anniversary of Sophie's passing...and yes, it was one of the worst days of my life. But I am so happy to have had the preceding 2,920-plus days of her in my life. I am also thankful that I went in search of a shelter dog, and that I didn't rule out an older dog.

She was eight years old when I brought her home. She was billed on Petfinder as "young" when I was searching, but that was an error. I knew she wasn't particularly young when I saw her, but I didn't know she was eight years old until I had her home and my (know it all!) husband found her age buried in some paperwork. We fell in love with her immediately, and yet I worried about how long we would have to spend with her at that age. Sometimes when I would walk her, I would pray that we could have eight more years. That seemed reasonable, right? That would total sixteen years, and she was a small dog. It was possible...

So we made it. I felt greedy at the end...having a 16 year old dog and an answered prayer, but still silently hoping for more. She was imperfectly perfect, and we loved her beyond measure. We still do. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about her.

I still miss you Sophie. Thanks for being such a great dog. XOXOXO

...on the second anniversary of her passing. Oh, what I wouldn't give for one more walk, one more snuggle...still miss her, still love her.

One year ago today, we lost Sophie following surgery to remove a tumor from one of her lungs. It was the third time in two years that cancer appeared, and we had a difficult decision to make. She was 16 and had had cancer in a less invasive form twice before, but she seemed so happy and otherwise healthy...We knew if we didn't have the surgery, we would soon be faced with deciding which day would be "the day" because she was suffering from coughing spells that were rapidly getting worse. Maybe the surgery would give her some more time and make her comfortable....Tough decisions. We chose surgery. The morning that I took her to OSU, where she would have her procedure, I walked her down the sidewalk a little way, thinking the whole time that it may be the last time I would have that privilege, that joy. So, I videoed that brief walk with the thought that I could experience it over and over again, in case it was her last. I tried not to think of it in those terms, but it did turn out to be her last walk.

She looks so happy, so healthy...not a clue about what was wrong or what was going to happen. Sophie loved an adventure of any kind, whether it was a walk around the block or a ride across town.   I'm really glad I have the clip, but I'm sort of wishing I had done it before it was "her last" so I didn't have to think of that every time I watch it. You can see why we wanted to keep things going, to give her more time... It wasn't meant to be, I guess, and until I can walk with her among the stars, I have this, and I thought I would share it with you today, on the anniversary of her passing:

On a Saturday in May, The Ohio State University Veterinary Medical Center, through its Honoring the Bond program, hosted a Remembrance Ceremony for all the pet patients that they treated and lost in the preceding year. We lost Sophie last October 26th, following surgery for a tumor in her lung, so we were invited to participate. 

It took place in an auditorium in the vet hospital which I never knew was there (along with a Subway, which I also never knew was there, despite having nearly starved to death multiple times while camping out at the vet hospital waiting room during marathon visits. )

When we arrived, we were greeted by very kind volunteers and comfort dogs, and given a bag with Sophie's name on it which contained a copy of the slideshow that was to be presented, a small candle, two rocks with "Sophie" written on them, and a package of forget-me-not seeds. The auditorium itself had more boxes of tissues in one room than I have ever seen, with the possible exception of Costco.

There were words of welcome, then a first-year resident vet from OSU (who had also lost a pet in the past year) spoke on gratitude, for our pets and the people who help us care for them, and for the people who help us say goodbye to them. The next speaker was from Schoedinger Pet Services (a funeral home in Columbus that provides cremation services for beloved pets). She spoke on getting through the loss of a pet. One of the many things she discussed in her speech was her belief that ignoring grief results in bitterness, while embracing it, even though it hurts, deepens your soul. The third speaker was a veterinarian who has a practice that specializes in at-home euthanasia. She spoke about finding the courage to say goodbye. In between the speakers, the College of Veterinary Medicine chorus (who knew!?), called "The Hoofbeats," sang two songs, "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and "Homeward Bound" (not the Simon and Garfunkel song), just in case we didn't cry enough during the speeches.

When the speeches were over, the remembrance slide show was played. Everyone who attended had submitted a picture of their pet and a few words of remembrance that were printed below the pet's picture in the slideshow. I believe there were probably between 50 and 70 pets featured in the slideshow. The photo at the top of this entry was the picture of Sophie that we submitted.

After the slideshow, we went out to the little garden along the side of the building, and we all placed our stones with the names of our pets there.

After putting our rock in the garden, we went back inside where we were offered cookies and something to drink, as well as the opportunity to participate in an art project, which was making a memory box. When I RSVP'd that we would be attending the ceremony, they asked how many people would be participating in the art project. I responded that there would be two of us. When I told Art that I had responded for him, he said that he didn't want to participate in the art project, but that he would watch while I did. (I think he was afraid that they were going to have everyone paint their own pet portrait or something....)

Well, when he got there and saw that the art project consisted of cutting up photos of Sophie that I had brought with us and pasting them on an Altoids box (or other box of your choice, which was provided), he picked up the scissors and snipped and glued and ModPodged like a sport. I would even say that he seemed to enjoy himself.

He made the box on the right, while I made the one on the left. I like our little boxes a lot. It seems like the perfect place to keep that little snip of fur you always keep when you lose a pet. I like the idea so much that I plan on making them for each of the other dogs I've lost. I wonder if Art will participate at home?

When we finished our boxes, we spoke with Joelle Nielsen, the social worker in charge of the "Honoring the Bond" program. She had organized the program and we wanted to thank her. She is a delightful person whom we had met before at some art festivals when she stopped by my booth. Then we headed  home.

It was a very nice program and it served an important purpose. I think that when other people acknowledge the loss of a pet as genuine and deep, it validates the grief you are experiencing. So I really appreciate Ohio State for doing that. It also gave me a chance to really experience the grief of losing Sophie. I mean, I do and I have every day since she died, but right at the time it happened there was a lot going on with my dad being hospitalized and having complications following his own surgery, and I don't think I absorbed the loss in a way that I needed to at the time. I'm grateful that I had the opportunity to experience the remembrance ceremony for Sophie. I will never stop missing her.

I don't often set out to make a piece of jewelry for myself, specifically, anymore. That's not to say that I don't occasionally think of a design, make it with the intention of offering it for sale, and decide that I need one like it, then make another one for me. That does happen.  But I don't often design something with me in mind, then make it, knowing that I'll never make another one exactly like it. 

Well, I did just that, and I am very pleased with the result. I made a Sophie pendant for myself. And because Sophie was one of a kind, it's probably the only Sophie necklace I will ever make. I included her name on the chain on a little tab of silver that I stamped, and I added three little pearls to dangle from the chain, as pearls represent tears, because, yes, I'm still crying. 

It was three months ago today that we lost Sophie, and we've missed her every minute.

Best. Dog. Ever.

We had a good Christmas. Especially Teddy. Here's the evidence:

I hope you had a good holiday, too. 

We missed being able to indulge Sophie this Christmas, and we always miss her sweet presence (and her willingness to wear a Santa hat.) By the way, not all of Teddy's gifts were from us. My brother and his wife gave Teddy some of them. Unfortunately, they were the ones that took the harshest treatment. But Teddy thoroughly enjoyed them, and the orange octopus has been re-stuffed (which will only be temporary, I'm sure.) Anyway, we wanted to do something in remembrance of Sophie, since this was the first Christmas without her. So, we donated a bed to the Richland County Dog Shelter in Mansfield, where we found her and adopted her just over eight years ago. I wondered how it would work, as there was a link on the shelter's website, and the bed ships there directly from the manufacturer. It turned out that it worked really well, and I received the nicest acknowledgment message from the shelter the very next day. I'd like to share it with you, just in case it may motivate you to send a bed to a shelter you know about. Here's the email I received:


Dear Dana,

We received word from Kuranda that you and your husband are donating a Kuranda bed in memory of your precious Sophie who you had adopted from the shelter 8 years ago. Please accept our heartfelt sympathies for your sweet Sophie. She is lucky to have had your love and care for those 8 wonderful years and I am sure you feel the same way about Sophie.

That is quite touching that you want to reach out to another dog at the shelter and make their stay a little bit more bearable with a comfortable bed while they wait for that special someone to adopt them. Thank you for being so considerate and so generous. The dogs truly do love these Kuranda beds and they are very well made and durable.

Whenever you are ready to start looking for another family member, please let us know if we can help you in any way.

Thank you again for wanting to help our shelter. That is such a wonderful tribute to Sophie and we appreciate your kindness more than you know.

Susan Kochheiser
for all the dogs at Richland County Dog Shelter




I really appreciated that, and I did respond to her. Just in case you ever want to donate a bed, check the website of the shelter you have in mind, as it probably has a link to Kuranda on it. If it doesn't, just visit www.kuranda.com and go from there. I hope that makes my little Sophie smile. We wanted to do something in her memory that had a lasting impact, so I hope that very soon a dog at the Richland County Dog Shelter is a little more comfortable thanks to Sophie.

Wow. I really miss Sophie. She was always nearby, following me from room to room. It's hard to get my head around the idea that she's gone and I'll never see her or hear her or touch her again. I try to take comfort in the fact that I gave her the best life I could, full of walks and treats and car rides, as well as a lot of time together and some travel, including a trip to the outer banks of North Carolina. She was always up for an adventure. I would tell my husband that I thought we should celebrate the dogs' birthdays, and he would always say, "What would we do differently? It's like every day is their birthday." I hope that's true, and I hope she knows how much she was loved and that I will never forget her. I also hope that we gave to her at least a fraction of the joy she brought to us. 

I'm not sure that Teddy knows what happened exactly, but I do think he misses her. She was always the leader when it came to those two, and he was the follower. Since she's been gone, he doesn't have another dog to follow. He learned a lot about being a dog from Sophie. He had kind of a rough start as a pup (at 12 weeks old, we were his fourth or fifth home), and I think that made him a little insecure at first. He wouldn't even go out the front door on his leash unless Sophie went first. She taught him how to wake us for breakfast and how to perform at 7 PM each evening for a strip of rawhide. She also showed him that car rides were nothing to fear, even if it led to a vet visit, because a treat was sure to follow. As much as Teddy learned from Sophie, she was probably a little annoyed when he first showed up, all paws and playfulness, but she took much comfort in her big friend when the two of them had to stay home by themselves, as she always curled up right next to his crate to sleep until we came home again. Teddy is doing a good job of absorbing the affection usually handed out to two dogs, and we joke that he is "eating for two," as the treats have been generous during this time. 

I am trying to focus and get some work done, but it is hard. There has been a lot of activity surrounding my dad's recuperation from knee surgery which has kept me busy, and that's been a good thing. I am hoping that, with time, the sadness and emptiness will gradually be displaced by the satisfaction of helping a great dog live a happy and fulfilling life, and I hope that the immediate memories of that post-surgery horror will be replaced with the happy memories of a spoiled (in a good way), happy dog. In an attempt to get to that point, here is a little video of Sophie doing something she loved, and something I loved watching her do, as well as some optimal Sophie moments. I believe that all dogs go to heaven, and if they get to choose how they get there, I think Sophie may have chosen a car ride...and as soon as she got there, I'm sure she found some pillows.

Note: I'm not great with making videos, so the transitions aren't as smooth as I'd like. Please cut me a break. Also, the music is "Sometimes I Wonder" by Ernie Haase and Signature Sound, with Doug Anderson handling the vocals on this song. I hope they don't mind me using their beautiful song...We actually went to their concert on the night of Sophie's passing, so she was very much in my heart when they sang this song. I'm not sure they wrote it with dogs in mind, but I think they would be pleased that we connected with it. This song seemed perfect for Sophie because she was very frightened of thunderstorms in her later years, so the idea of no storms in heaven is nice. And no...we didn't feel like going to a concert following her death that morning, but we'd had the tickets for months, and we also took my mom, who needed something uplifting after a lot of care and stress following my dad's surgery. My dad was supposed to go, too, but he was still at rehab. And my dog-loving friend, Judy, insisted it was the best thing to do, as she had gone to a concert the day she lost her dog a year ago, and was thankful for it. It wasn't easy, but we went, and it was a good thing. Anyway, Ernie Haase and Signature Sound are great. Check them out: www.erniehaase.com.  Thanks, Ernie, for a little light in the darkness.

I lost my precious Sophie today. Such high hopes after a good visit last night, but she took a turn for the worse. An early morning phone call. A mad dash to OSU. Goodbye. Things can change in a flash. We are devastated, broken and sad. I am grateful for the time I had with her, but it is never enough. I will love her forever, and I will miss her forever. Goodbye, sweet girl.