by Bette Wayne

Created on: January 27, 2009

Saying Goodbye to My Best Friend/Eulogy for a Border Collie

Any pet lover who has experienced the death of their pet knows that the loss is a large, hard to handle heartache. Sometimes it happens suddenly, without warning. Other times you can see it coming, an unwelcome visitor, which you try to repulse. Either way, it is painful and happens too quickly.

I lost my long time companion and best friend ten days before Christmas. She had four legs and a beautiful black and white plumed tail which seldom stopped wagging. People would define her as a Border Collie, but that is like saying a person is American. It tells only a minute part of her personality. Scientists claim they are the smartest breed of dog; I always said she was smarter than most people. To explain how to cope with such a loss, it is necessary to understand the relationship between the involved parties. For that reason, I will relate some of the facts which fused into a loving and trusting bond between one dog and one person.

I adopted her as an adult dog, probably three or four years old, who was scheduled for euthanasia because she was mean and quick to attack any other dog, cat, squirrel or whatever. Labeled a killer, no one wanted her. She was too skinny to survive much longer, dirty and matted down to her skin. She also had a steel pin in her back leg which indicated, along with a plethora of scars, how she had been treated. Because I had trained other "untrainable" dogs, and wanted to give her a chance at life, I took her home.

I bathed her and fed her the best canine diet. Impossible to comb in places, I was forced to cut her lovely fur, which took almost a year to grow to the full length of a rough coated Border Collie.

I was told her name was Princess, which is not a name I would chose. Instead I started calling her Pretty Girl for indeed she was one of the most beautiful dogs I have ever seen. This name evolved into a training tool which was useful when walking her. People would come up to her and reach to pet her, not knowing that her wagging tail was a lie, and she was quick to bite. However, if they called her Pretty Girl, she accepted them as a friend.

It took months for us to become more than house mates. I bought her a new collar and matching lead which was a symbol of our bond. When I was hospitalized, and she was staying with my daughter and her dogs, Pretty Girl cried for me. My daughters were unable to say the "M" word. Finally, after making the necessary arrangements, my friend

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