Counting your life in dog's lives

My team mate Sharon and I we're probably separated at birth. She's my sister, just like J. Somehow, deep in your soul, you just know when you are reunited with family.

So yesterday, I knew bad things were amiss. You just feel it. And I knew what it was. Like me, Sharon has a bunch of dogs. Bunch for her is two, but they make up for my numbers, with sheer size. Sharon has Great Danes. Great Danes are what we in dogs call "heart ache breeds." Heart ache because you love them sooo much, and they are here for such a short time. 6 on a Great Dane is an old dog. 9 is a Great Dane life span. If you are lucky.

I called Sharon in the afternoon and left her a message, and she called me back when I was out on the bike. We cried and cried. Poor Mischief had gone downhill in a very short time, was in terrible pain, and yesterday, it was time. Sharon would have given a kidney for that dog, but there are some things, no matter how tough you are, that you just can't fix. The best people know when it's time, and give the ultimate gift of peace.

I know that when the time comes that I'm going to have a pack of dogs waiting for me. I told Sharon that you can measure your life in a lot of ways, I measure mine, in dog's lives. Dates and times might get fuzzy, but the memory and love of my best buddies are with me always. They steal that little piece of your heart and remain there always. For months after DD died, I would hear him scratch at my bedroom door in the middle of the night, and I'd get up to let him in. I like to think that he was there to comfort me, until I could make it on my own.

So, Mischief, until we get there... please look up DD, Chrissy, Bart, Woody, Ginger, oh and Sam, and Tilly. They'll keep you company. We're coming soon enough, just wait for us!