Buddy, you were a special gift from God. You were at least partly responsible for me meeting my husband. Daddy met you when you were fourteen months old; the rescue shelter that you were taken to donated you to Daddy to do search and rescue work. You were so happy to go home with him, and Daddy couldn't believe his luck. You were so incredible, right from the beginning. I met your Daddy when your were almost three. I was missing my last doggie, and when Daddy told me about you I found him extra attractive! All these years later, I still wonder if you were the reason I agreed to meet him for the first time. You weren't too sure about me when we first met. You were happy with you and Daddy being a twosome, but you slowly started to trust me. You would sit and watch me work, and I would talk to you about everything. By the time we all moved in together, we were one big happy family. I'd realized by then that Daddy's old girlfriend used to hurt you. I wish I could hurt her back! Daddy never knew or she would have been gone long before she was. I meant so much to me when you finally learned to love and trust me despite what she did. I was so impressed with your ability to find lost people. I was so proud of you when you found those little kids who were lost in the woods. What a smart puppy dog! You loved to go to work, but you loved to play too. Daddy was for work, but somehow you decided that I was for playing. I remember how you used to try to get me to play while I was trying to study. You'd bring me one toy after another. Placing them in my lap, and then watching me expectantly. You were never discouraged when I put the toy down and told you "later." You just got another out of your box and tried again. When you ran out of toys, you tried some of my toys. I would be reading my textbook when I heard a soft, "aarff." I'd look up, and there you stood. Feet spread apart poised to turn and run, staring at me intently, and clamped between your teeth was my toothbrush! As I reached forward to grab it from you, you would spin and run away. Your tail was wagging while I chased you around the house. Down the hall, up on the bed, back up the hall and over the chair. Other times, you were gentler. You'd walk up to me and nudge your big head under my book and lift and flip it out of my hand. Then you'd nuzzle me and kiss my face. I loved you so. Whenever Daddy had to go out of town, or when he worked a midnight shift catching bad guys, he always told you to be good and take care of me. You did such a good job. I was never scared with you around. Even when the neighbor was robbed and shot at, I had you. I was safe. We'd take a walk in town, and people would move aside when they saw you coming. Who would have ever guessed that such a big strong German Shepherd was such a sweetie! One day you truly saved me. We were out in the empty lot behind the apartment building playing ball. You were about 50 yards away from me, practicing your Z pattern, searching for the ball. The mean Akita that we'd seen a few days before suddenly burst through the brush at in front of me. He was so close to me, he snarled and lunged at me before I could react. I still don't know how you got to me so quickly, you intercepted him just as he was about to bite me. You were amazing. You took him to the ground and pinned him almost before I could blink. That's how his owner found us, me standing there in shock and you holding the Akita to the ground by the neck growling a growl I'd never heard before. You probably saved my life that day. Your daddy was so proud when I told him. The neighbors couldn't believe it. They all knew you as such a sweet gentle puppy. You were the Pied Piper in our apartment complex. Whenever I took you out, the children just seemed to materialize. I'd hear joyful cries, "Buddy!" And there they were. Sometimes they'd even knock on the door and ask if I could bring you out to play. You were especially tolerant with my nephews Alex and Stephen. I remember Alex wanting to take you for a walk when he was only about four. He tried to loop your leash through your collar; it didn't stay but you pretended. You followed him around walking at his little pace. He was so thrilled. He loved you so! Little Stephen would toddle over to you while you were chewing on your bone. He'd take it from you and you just watched. You'd slowly get up and walk over to him, lick him on the face and gently take the bone back. You let both boys crawl on you as if you were a jungle gym. When I told you they were coming to visit, you hid in your crate, but you always greeted them when they arrived. When Alex slept overnight, you abandoned your usual place by our bed to keep watch over him. He slept by his side all night, not even putting your head down to sleep until all was quiet outside. You were always so glad when we got home, and you were such good company. You talked to me all the time. Really talked. You were so vocal, even for a German Shepherd, you were unusually vocal. Erika used to laugh at me when I'd tell you not to answer back when I told you to get off the couch or whatever. Then she realized you really were. The day you were diagnosed with PF's was one of the most desperate of my life. We knew nothing about this horrible disease, and the vet knew little more. The next five years resembled a roller coaster. There were times we didn't think you'd make it through the night, and the next day you seemed completely fine. I hated how we had to hurt you to clean the PFs daily. You were so good; coming to us and letting us do what we needed to and then being so happy when we finished. You never lashed out at us, no matter how much it hurt. Daddy hated it so much; he couldn't stand your cries. He used to try to talk me into stopping, and at the same time asked me to do it when it was his turn. I hated your cries too; sometimes I cried with you, but I wanted you as healthy as possible. You fought so hard to get better. Eventually, I knew our efforts were in vain. You must have known too. You started to say goodbye. You were so cuddly towards the end. We couldn't walk past you, or say your name, without you rolling over and begging us to scratch your belly. You would curl up next to me and stay like that for hours, just wanting to be petted. I used to have little "talks" with you at night when Daddy fell asleep. I'd rub you and tickle your ears and tell you how much I loved you. You'd look at me with those deep brown eyes and lick my face. You started eating less and less. Some days you hardly moved from your bed. You cried and cried at night. You were hurting so much, and there was nothing we could do to make it better. It broke our hearts. Then you started bleeding. Your fistulas were blown. It had happened before, we knew there was nothing to do except keep you quiet until they stopped bleeding. It happened in November, then again in December, then in January. But in February, it happened several days in a row. You cried almost every night my then, now in the mornings and afternoons too. It was so hard. When we took you outside you would struggle and struggle. After you went potty (on the days that you could) you would be so happy. You went "bouncy, bouncy" down the road. It was almost enough to convince you that you were better. Until we took you in and you just curled up on your bed and cried. The day we finally decided to let you go was the hardest of my life. Your Daddy's too. We called Aunt Kay and told her we would be bringing you up. We cuddled up to you and pet you and told you that we loved you and we cried, and cried. Then we took you outside to take some final pictures. You managed to go potty while we were out there (the first time in three days), and you barked and played. It was so hard; knowing what we were doing when you looked so happy, but we knew you would be in horrible pain again by the end of the day. The cycle had become that tight. We took you up to Aunt Kay's. Anne was there too. We took you in the back room, and Daddy and I hugged you and said goodbye. We left, but Anne brought us back in. You were too upset without us. (Did you know how badly I needed to be with you at the end, despite the stupid rules?) We stayed with you; Daddy whispered how much he loved you over and over again. You didn't fight it at all. You just relaxed and sighed that shuddery sigh you used to have at the end of a painful period, and then you were gone. I was completely unprepared for the wave of pain that hit me. Daddy was still stroking your fur, his face buried in your neck when I saw your eyes dim. It took me a minute to realize that the wounded cry I heard was coming from ME. My knees buckled and I would have fallen if Anne hadn't grabbed me. We said goodbye one last time and went home. We listened to "Go Rest High" on the way home. You're resting high now. Aunt Kay buried you with your Mr. Man ball and bone next to Chaucer. The "bonehead brothers" are reunited at the Rainbow Bridge, waiting for Daddy and Mommy and Aunt Kay. I miss you so. We cried for days. At first I was in shock, then the hurt really set in. Daddy was a mess too. We held each other and talked about you and the stunts you used to pull. We got Tofer about a week after you left us. He couldn't begin to replace you, but he needed a home and we needed to be needed again. You would like him. He's so different from you. He kisses everyone; you weren't such an indiscriminant lover. He doesn't talk the way you did, but he's starting to protect Mommy when Daddy's away. He was born and raised to be a police dog, but his handler mistreated him and he became scared to work on slippery floors. He's never lived in a house before; he even stayed in a kennel while he was working as a police dog. How could anyone hurt such a beautiful animal? How could Sally hurt you the way she did? I learned a lot from you that's helping me help Tofer. He's already much better. He doesn't mind the slippery floors anymore, but we're not giving him back to the department. I was afraid to get him. I didn't want you to think that I loved you so little I was trying to replace you. I was afraid to love another puppy and then hurt the way I do when I think of you. Then I realized that you knew how very much I loved you. I still love you. You were my baby. I never minded that I couldn't have children because you were so much! I think that maybe you left so soon because you knew that Tofer needed a home. I think you worked with God on that one. Lots of people don't think that God bothers with animals like that. I think that's silly. After all, God is the one who made dogs such good friends for humans; God is the one who made you so incredible; why wouldn't God be involved in this? I realized that I would hurt some day for Tofer too, but I also realized that the reason it hurt so much when you left was because it was SO very good while you were here. It's like the song "The Dance." "I couldn't have missed the pain, but I'd have had to miss the dance." The dance with you was the best of my life. Thank you. Love Mommy.