by Marilyn Armstrong
Pagan was four when she came to us. She'd been a fabulous show dog, a wonderful mother, and now she's earned the right to be just a well-loved friends. Word is that PBGVs (Petit Basset Griffon Vendeen) are rambunctious, super active hounds. Well, they are, but not missy Pagan. Where other Peebs are pushy, Pagan was the picture of limitless, loving patience. She never met a food dish, a blanket, a stuffed toy, a bone, or a soft bed she didn't like. She was our champion sleeper, too. Promptly at 9:30 pm, no matter what was going on, Pagan tucked herself in for the night, not to rise until 10 the following morning. In a house full of boisterous dogs and people and activity, Pagan would determinedly sleep her appointed number of hours. If forced to moved earlier than that, she would spend the entire day trying to make up for that lost bit ot sleep. Pagan protected all things small and weak. Ever the friend of kittens and puppies and babies, Pagan could be trusted with any creature, no matter how tiny or fragile. She was the heart and soul of gentleness. A soft sofa, a belly rub, and a nice bone to chew... that was her heaven. Undemanding and friend to the world, we thought there were many long and happy years left. Alas, it was not to be. One day Pagan started to act "peaky" ... and when she lost her appetite, we knew there was trouble. This was not a girl who ever missed a meal. We realized she was "off" on a Friday. By the following Monday morning, when we got her to the vet, she was deathly ill. Something was destroying her kidneys. Tests, more tests, and still no answers. After a week, it was time to let her go. She was weak, in pain, with no realistic chance of recuperating, especially since we still didn't know what had happened or why. And so, on that Thursday afternoon, February 7, 2002, with her head on my lap, and the rest of the family stroking her and wishing her well, we sent her to the Bridge. Her granddaughter, Miss Tinker Belle, almost overnight, assumed all of the funny little quirks that had been uniquely Pagan's. How strange, yet how consoling, that some little bit of Miss Pagan lives on in her granddaughter. We miss our big girl and we will always miss her, till we are all reunited on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge.
Marilyn Armstrong, Uxbridge, MA, March 12, 2002