by Janet Dunn

Created on: October 17, 2008   Last Updated: February 07, 2009

It's hard to find the words to tell you about Ginger. Ginger wasn't just a pet, she was family. It's been several years since she passed away but I still keep her picture in a special place in my home.

My son was twelve years old at the time and my daughter was eleven. My next door neighbor was trying to find good homes for two puppies that were left from a litter. He was hoping to find them homes so he wouldn't have to take them to the animal shelter. It had been three years since we had a dog and I was not ready for the responsibility of another one, but after several minutes of listening to my children beg, I consented to take a look.

Being a single parent raising two children, my initial response was "no"; but this unexplainable feeling deep down in me surfaced, and I knew that my children needed another pet. So I knelt down, patted her head, looked into her eyes and the rest is history. Ginger lived with us for the next sixteen years

She was about three months old at that time. She appeared to be a mixture of cocker spaniel and collie, and we suspected something else, but we never quite figured that part out. She had a long brown and white coat, her tail was long and draped over her back, her ears were small and her coat on her front legs was brindled. When she was full grown she weighed fifty pounds. Aside from being very easy to train, she was obedient and an extremely good guard dog.

She would wait anxiously at the front door for us to come home, ready for it to open so she could be loved and give love in return. When she needed to be let out, she would sit with her paw on the door and when the children went outside to play, she always went with them. She loved to chase them and she loved to be chased by them; around and around the house they would run. We had a fenced yard but the gate was usually left opened during the day. She never ventured outside the parameter of the yard unless one of us was with her, except maybe one time; because an unsuspected litter of six showed up a few months later. But aside from that little surprise we knew her pretty well.

Several years later I became a grandmother. At first we were concerned about Ginger being jealous of the baby but she nurtured him the same way she nurtured his mother when she was a child. About two years after that my father passed away and my mother came to live with me. Ginger had no one to play with now except when my daughter came to visit with my grandson, or when my son stopped by; so she took comfort in being a companion to my mother. Every day when mother would go out to sit on the porch or tend her flowers or even walk out to the mailbox, Ginger would stay with her until she was ready to come back into the house. She was so loyal.

A few more years passed by and I began to notice that she was not feeling well. Her eyesight was failing and she was having difficulty walking and her hind legs were not able to support her. It all happened so quickly. The veterinarian confirmed our suspicions that she was losing her sight; but we never suspected that she had cancer. We tried different procedures and medicines but there came a time when those treatments were not enough to save her. My son and I knew what had to be done, and in order to bring her peace we had to let her go. That decision was heart wrenching. The look in her eyes during her last moments seemed to be saying "Thank you".

Eight years have passed since my son and I made our last trip to the veterinarian with Ginger. Sometimes it feels like she is still here. We reminisce about her often and try to see her in other dogs we meet, but she was one of a kind. There will never be another Ginger.

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