Before Dawn, Our Beautiful Dog Leaves Her Body..for Morning Glory

What a strong, brave and determined dog our dear Girl has been since that day in June, 1995, when she barked into our lives. We were at Geneva Giles' farm in West Glover, Vermont, to buy a couch. "Come to the barn and see our litter of puppies," Geneva said. This little girl pup came right up to us and began barking incessantly! We understood and brought her home.

Now, 13 years later, she spent the last two months gradually leaving the world, her body, and this family. For the past three days and nights, she refused food and water, pulling herself into the woods, and resting in a cool, leafy bower. Last night, Thurmond and I brought our sleeping bags, candles and incense to the little grove, and told Girl that we were spending the night at her side. Her breath was labored, then fast, then shallow, then fast again. Several times, she cried out in a moan, sounding both human and doglike. Such a different sound than Girl's typical evening sound...when she would Bark at the Dark deep into the starry night.

We had discussed the possibility of having Girl put to sleep, but both felt that she wouldn't have wanted to take a shortcut in her life. She deserved her full life span, and we agreed to support such an exit. As the weeks wore on, it became clear to us that "putting a dog out of her suffering," has a lot more to do with the pain the family endures, watching the slow ending.

The Yogis of India teach that a lifetime is made up a finite amount of breaths. Once all our breaths are used, we leave.

Just before dawn this day, Girl used up all her breaths.

Friday afternoon, our loving Rocky came over to tell Girl goodbye, help us prepare and to "cheer us up." He dug a deep grave, next to where we buried our male collie mix, Boy, in 2002. At dawn today, we lined her final resting place with balsam and cedar, some early gold autumn maple leaves and plenty of wildflowers. Blue Vervain, Black Eyed Susans, Orange Day Lilies, Bee Balm...plus gorgeous pearl white Foxglove, flowering oregano and some wild green apples.

Thurmond added a small, ornamental violin, to symbolize all the time our Girl spent in his violin shop, companion to many, many students...and often the lucky recipient of some part of their lunch. Dave always believed Girl could tell time, as she would sidle up to his work bench at exactly noon each school day, and stare without blinking. "I always tried to pack a little something for Girl," he told us.

Among Girl's nicknames: Little Girl (no longer appropriate after her first birthday) Gigi (for G.G., Good Girl) Foxy Red or Foxy Loxy. After Thurmond placed her in the grave, we put the Foxglove on her head like a crown, a most perfect offering for Foxy. The varied bouquet of golds and oranges reminded us of her beautiful coat. You can see she was a strawberry blonde, in th photo taken in mid June. Her front legs were widely splayed, compensating for loss of a rear leg 8 years ago. She was injured in an accident that remains a mystery...we believe someone drove up our driveway, hit her, and sped away.

Undaunted, after the leg was removed by the veterinarian, Girl jumped off the operating table! With three legs, she tried hard to resume her winter sports routine, accompanying us on cross country ski trips. Prior to the amputation, she had boundless energy. One cold day, we thought she had stayed at home, only to return from our ski to find a three legged trail following ours. Thurmond had to ski back for miles in the dark, to rescue our stubborn, strong Girl, stuck in a big drift. He carried her home that night.

Of all her gifts, Girl will probably be best and most remembered for her unfailing, unflagging cheerfulness. Our official greeter here at Shantivanam, she loved everyone. She never was naughty or mean spirited to a living soul. Girl was the essence of love incarnate. My father called her "Lady," though she was also tomboy, country Girl. She kept herself well groomed (licking her paws till the shone white every night) albeit for a burdock or balsam twig in her plume of a tail. Girl even was up for wrestling with our son Elliot, who discovered when he was a teen that she especially delighted in his patented "body slam!"

Many years ago, a visiting neighbor, upon meeting Girl for the first time, said, "What's your name little girl? I think I will call you 'Morning Glory.'" Today, as the sun was rising, we said good bye to our Girl . She went to her Morning Glory. She taught us so much, but mostly, about unconditional love. Thank you, Dear Girl!