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“My Shadow”!
I remember when my wife Susan and daughter Kimberlee brought you home on Valentines Day of 1993. You were so afraid of everything, especially the car ride bringing you to our home. Kimberlee sat in the back seat holding and petting you the entire way. When you got out of the car, you avoided me by a wide margin and would not come close at all. Most of the day I tried to get you to come to me, but you bowed your head, curled your tail beneath you and ran from me. The only one you would go near was Kimberlee. But Kim eventually had to leave and go to her own home. I finally cornered you and was able to rub my hand against your skin. I felt your ribs. Later that night after Kim left and you had no one to turn to, you came gradually to me. Your name was Prissy but we knew that would have to change. Within a day, it was obvious what your name was to be. You were to be “My Shadow” - following me everywhere, crying when I was out of your sight.
The first day you refused to even come on the porch. After some coaxing, that is where you stayed the night. The next day the porch was OK, but entry into the house was not for you. As long as you could see me through the open door you were OK. Finally, I got you to step inside the door and into the family room. You laid down on the rug by the door and followed me with your eyes were ever I went. The spinning overhead ceiling fan made you nervous. The second night, you spent on the rug at the family room door. The next day, I got a leash and hooked it to you. After refusing to move when I pulled it tight, we waited and let you become accustomed to the feel. It took a while, but you soon followed along. I took you on the leash into the family room and then took you on a tour of the house, down the hallway to the bedroom and back, into the kitchen and the other areas we were going to allow you to roam. You learned where you could and could not go.
I remember when my wife Susan and daughter Kimberlee brought you home on Valentines Day of 1993. You were so afraid of everything, especially the car ride bringing you to our home. Kimberlee sat in the back seat holding and petting you the entire way. When you got out of the car, you avoided me by a wide margin and would not come close at all. Most of the day I tried to get you to come to me, but you bowed your head, curled your tail beneath you and ran from me. The only one you would go near was Kimberlee. But Kim eventually had to leave and go to her own home. I finally cornered you and was able to rub my hand against your skin. I felt your ribs. Later that night after Kim left and you had no one to turn to, you came gradually to me. Your name was Prissy but we knew that would have to change. Within a day, it was obvious what your name was to be. You were to be “My Shadow” - following me everywhere, crying when I was out of your sight.
The first day you refused to even come on the porch. After some coaxing, that is where you stayed the night. The next day the porch was OK, but entry into the house was not for you. As long as you could see me through the open door you were OK. Finally, I got you to step inside the door and into the family room. You laid down on the rug by the door and followed me with your eyes were ever I went. The spinning overhead ceiling fan made you nervous. The second night, you spent on the rug at the family room door. The next day, I got a leash and hooked it to you. After refusing to move when I pulled it tight, we waited and let you become accustomed to the feel. It took a while, but you soon followed along. I took you on the leash into the family room and then took you on a tour of the house, down the hallway to the bedroom and back, into the kitchen and the other areas we were going to allow you to roam. You learned where you could and could not go.
tolerated it and even welcomed it sometimes, I think. Nancy was a different matter. No matter how many times or how often Nancy came to the house you would not go near her without a lot of coaxing on her part. But Kim was always your friend.
You were so unique with your left ear pointed up like it should be and your right ear folded over. Mike Manbeck called you “One Hung Lo.” We don’t know what caused this deformed ear but it identified “You”. You didn’t mind and didn’t care.
Over the years you accompanied me to work at times, went with me to various places in the truck or car, went with me on the boat, and even have logged about 10 hours in the air with me. You were my first passenger even before I got my Pilot’s license. You accompanied me on walks, everywhere in the yard as I worked, from room to room in the house, even into the bathroom while I was “stinking” the place out. When it came to giving you a bath, all I had to do was pull out your towels and head for the master bedroom shower. As soon as you saw the bath-towels you would beat me to the bathroom and if the shower door was open you would be standing inside waiting for me. You enjoyed the baths I gave you. You were different! You were a joy to have.
You were so afraid of the lightning and the “Thunderbumpers” that made all the noise. I remember the night that the thunderstorm came through during the middle of the night. I was sound asleep in bed and the next thing I knew I had all sixty pounds of you laying across my chest wanting me to protect you - your heart beating so rapidly and your breathing so fast and heavy. Other nights and other “thunderbumpers” followed but you were content to stand next to the bed and have me hold and pet you until they were over or you were calmed down.
As you turned twelve (year 2002), you moved slower and slower. Your legs were not supporting you like they used to and you had trouble laying down and more trouble getting up, going down the steps and getting up them. I sometimes had to help you up the steps to get you in the house. Your eyes watered and every morning you came to me for me to clean the “gookies” from your eyes. We had to put your food bowl on the step on the porch so that you could eat without bending your head down so far. We had to do the same with your water dish, setting it either on a step or onto a cinderblock to raise it up for you. Your hearing was going bad and finally I don’t think you were hearing at all. Your sight was fairly good still but we could see the cataracts starting to fill your eyes. But through it all you were always “My Shadow” and was glad to see me when I came home or entered the room.
Thursday 10/10/2002. Your human mother (Susan) and father (me) have to take you to the Vet that final time. I had promised you that I would try to be with you when it was necessary for you to go. I knew I had to live up to that promise. You could hardly get up off the floor any more and yesterday you could not. I had to come home from work to help you get up and to a standing position. In your attempts to get up you had rubbed the hair off of your feet and rubbed them raw.
We took you to the vet and I think you knew it was that time. I took some pictures of you one last time. While you were on the exam table, we stood you up, and held you so that the Veterinarian could give you the overdose shot of anesthetic. You looked at me knowing that I would not do anything to hurt you as the sleep took over you. We laid you down on the table and I held you, petted you, and told you everything would be OK, and that your hurting would be over soon. I told you “I loved you” and I think you knew it. As you went to sleep for that final time, I cried and I cried and I cried. I felt your breathing stop, and then I could no longer feel your heart beat. The Vet checked you with a stethoscope and said your heart was beating no longer. I cried some more. Thank you Shadow for being “my” dog & “my girl.” Thank you Shadow for being my friend. Thank you for your welcome home each day, or at the end of one of my trips to far off lands. You always brightened my day no matter what my mood was to start - it was always better when you came to me up and put your head under my hand to pet you. Thank you Shadow for coming to live with me. Thank you for the good times we had together. Thank you for coming with me in the truck, the times we went in the boat, your rides with me in the “ShadowMobile,” and acting as my copilot in the plane. Thank you Shadow for just being you. My heart aches wishing that your heart was still beating next to me again. I will miss you terribly! When I think of you my eye’s water and a lump fills my throat.
Thank you God for the allowing me to have such a wonderful dog - Please watch over and take care of her. If you have such a thing as “Dog Heaven” please put her there. Thank you for my time with Shadow and allowing me to be with “My Shadow” at her death. I did not want her to die alone or without me being there. You know that I did not want her to hurt anymore. When I asked you the other day what I should do, You know I did not want to hear the answer I heard, but I know it was for the best. Thank you for Your answer. She is now in Your care. Tell her I love her. But I think she already knows that.
My love to “My Shadow”
Jim
P.S. Say hello to my “Rindi”. I still think of her too.
You were so unique with your left ear pointed up like it should be and your right ear folded over. Mike Manbeck called you “One Hung Lo.” We don’t know what caused this deformed ear but it identified “You”. You didn’t mind and didn’t care.
Over the years you accompanied me to work at times, went with me to various places in the truck or car, went with me on the boat, and even have logged about 10 hours in the air with me. You were my first passenger even before I got my Pilot’s license. You accompanied me on walks, everywhere in the yard as I worked, from room to room in the house, even into the bathroom while I was “stinking” the place out. When it came to giving you a bath, all I had to do was pull out your towels and head for the master bedroom shower. As soon as you saw the bath-towels you would beat me to the bathroom and if the shower door was open you would be standing inside waiting for me. You enjoyed the baths I gave you. You were different! You were a joy to have.
You were so afraid of the lightning and the “Thunderbumpers” that made all the noise. I remember the night that the thunderstorm came through during the middle of the night. I was sound asleep in bed and the next thing I knew I had all sixty pounds of you laying across my chest wanting me to protect you - your heart beating so rapidly and your breathing so fast and heavy. Other nights and other “thunderbumpers” followed but you were content to stand next to the bed and have me hold and pet you until they were over or you were calmed down.
As you turned twelve (year 2002), you moved slower and slower. Your legs were not supporting you like they used to and you had trouble laying down and more trouble getting up, going down the steps and getting up them. I sometimes had to help you up the steps to get you in the house. Your eyes watered and every morning you came to me for me to clean the “gookies” from your eyes. We had to put your food bowl on the step on the porch so that you could eat without bending your head down so far. We had to do the same with your water dish, setting it either on a step or onto a cinderblock to raise it up for you. Your hearing was going bad and finally I don’t think you were hearing at all. Your sight was fairly good still but we could see the cataracts starting to fill your eyes. But through it all you were always “My Shadow” and was glad to see me when I came home or entered the room.
Thursday 10/10/2002. Your human mother (Susan) and father (me) have to take you to the Vet that final time. I had promised you that I would try to be with you when it was necessary for you to go. I knew I had to live up to that promise. You could hardly get up off the floor any more and yesterday you could not. I had to come home from work to help you get up and to a standing position. In your attempts to get up you had rubbed the hair off of your feet and rubbed them raw.
We took you to the vet and I think you knew it was that time. I took some pictures of you one last time. While you were on the exam table, we stood you up, and held you so that the Veterinarian could give you the overdose shot of anesthetic. You looked at me knowing that I would not do anything to hurt you as the sleep took over you. We laid you down on the table and I held you, petted you, and told you everything would be OK, and that your hurting would be over soon. I told you “I loved you” and I think you knew it. As you went to sleep for that final time, I cried and I cried and I cried. I felt your breathing stop, and then I could no longer feel your heart beat. The Vet checked you with a stethoscope and said your heart was beating no longer. I cried some more. Thank you Shadow for being “my” dog & “my girl.” Thank you Shadow for being my friend. Thank you for your welcome home each day, or at the end of one of my trips to far off lands. You always brightened my day no matter what my mood was to start - it was always better when you came to me up and put your head under my hand to pet you. Thank you Shadow for coming to live with me. Thank you for the good times we had together. Thank you for coming with me in the truck, the times we went in the boat, your rides with me in the “ShadowMobile,” and acting as my copilot in the plane. Thank you Shadow for just being you. My heart aches wishing that your heart was still beating next to me again. I will miss you terribly! When I think of you my eye’s water and a lump fills my throat.
Thank you God for the allowing me to have such a wonderful dog - Please watch over and take care of her. If you have such a thing as “Dog Heaven” please put her there. Thank you for my time with Shadow and allowing me to be with “My Shadow” at her death. I did not want her to die alone or without me being there. You know that I did not want her to hurt anymore. When I asked you the other day what I should do, You know I did not want to hear the answer I heard, but I know it was for the best. Thank you for Your answer. She is now in Your care. Tell her I love her. But I think she already knows that.
My love to “My Shadow”
Jim
P.S. Say hello to my “Rindi”. I still think of her too.
Copyright © 2007-2009 by New Beginnings Shepherd Rescue • All Rights reserved • E-Mail: murphy@newbeginningsrescue.com
When we got you, you became the “Boss” over the other dogs in the household. You let them know when they were invading your territory, sometimes being a bit heavy-handed and even drawing some blood. You were also fearful of children for some reason and it took you a long time to become accustomed to them. When you were younger, as soon as a much younger Richard came to the house, away to the bedroom you ran. Toward the end, Richard was your friend and you would allow Benjamin and Christal to pet you. You still were not thrilled about it but