To Cassie September 24, 2008 The day arrived, as I knew it would, better never anticipated the great and engulfing sadness I would feel. I lost my dog today. OK, my dog was really my daughter’s dog, I just fed, watered, medicated, vetted, and slept with her. Cassie was a rescue from UDF, a man dropping her off on a cold winter day. At just 6 weeks old, we knew we had to keep this helpless baby dog, and took her straight home. She was all of ours. My husband, who adored her as he does all dogs. My son, indifferent about pets, but Cassie was the perfect size (75+ lbs), and temperament for his taste. My Mother, who would swat her away with a fly swatter as a puppy, when she jumped on her, (she was forever hiding if I killed a fly) yet fed her taste buds with hot dogs and cooked ground beef as a “snack”, (she never liked dog food after, of course) but would eat absolutely anything she could get her mouth around, including a whole piece of city chicken, skewer and all, snatched from a countertop after dinner one night.
Cassie was a full of boundless energy, black lab mix. Way beyond trainable, she trained us to do her bidding. She was the dog to take anywhere, the park, the school, old folks home, as long as she had attention of people, she never ran off, we never used a leash except to the vet, my beautiful Newfies never able to outrun or outsmart her, she was our alpha female. Cassandra Amanda was her given name from my daughter, and whenever she made did something wrong, or made me angry, I used it. She saw me through the death of my Mother, 2 husbands, 2 divorces, birth of my granddaughters, illnesses, surgeries, and finding my birth Mother, who loved her the best of all my dogs. She knew Mother was ours, and when Mom came in, stayed at her feet each and every time, until the day before she died.
She had lots of lumps throughout the years, all needing to be removed, until 2 months ago, when the lumps became too numerous to count, and Dr. Wendy diagnosed lymphoma. We have great success with chemo lately and we could try it, left an image of my sleek, fast, healthy dog, sick from chemo everyday, being sick at her end. Turns out she was sick anyway, and the hardest was watching her fade drastically each day. Her eyes never leaving mine, we put her to sleep on the kitchen floor, with my friend Pam, giving her a gentle relief from her pain. Cassie was 13. No dog will be missed more, or was as special. Here’s to you, Cassie, my sleek, fast, and now healthy again best dog ever.
Your other Mother