Terra, Terra, Terra. You just turned 12 and you ran out of steam. We knew your heart was going from bad to worse but knowing did not cushion the shock at all. I'm proud that our 4 1/2 years together were good and full. I wish they could have numbered 44 1/2.

Your death has left a big hole in our lives. It's taken me a month to write this and it is still so very tough. Gayle, after thirty + years of hospital work and seeing much loss and sorrow, still tears up when we speak of you.

And little Lilly, your best buddy, does not comprehend your disappearance. She still searches the house for you at least once a week.

When I take her for a walk, she stops at the corner and sits, waiting for you to appear from across the street, as you rightfully should, as when you and I would go over to dispose of the poop bags and Gayle would have her sit until we got back.

I'm trying to fill the hole with all the good things you were.

You were confident without being a bully, as any self-respecting Airedale should be.

You loved people and knew no strangers. Yet you managed to tone down your exuberance to a reasonable level so as to not put people off.

You loved little dogs and had patience with them. You could have gobbled Lilly when she was a two pound flea and chewed two holes in your muzzle and ate your beard. But you were never ever gruff with her.

You were never cross, never had a bad day, and were always happy with the way things were. I wish you had shared the secret of those wonderful virtues with me a little bit.

Actually, I kind of wish you did have one or two major flaws. No, I don't mean counter surfing the 18 huge Christmas cookies destined for the House of Refuge nor do I mean eating the BBQ chips, taco shells, and bag of spaghetti in a single pantry raid.

Heck, I'd gladly bake you a whole truck load of cookies just to spend one more minute with you.

I'm talking malice, not mischief. Maybe if you would have obligingly eaten a chair or two or broken something expensive or attacked someone or their dog I wouldn't miss you so much. But I have no bad memories to fall back on and it will be a while before the hole begins to fill.

Steve Schultz
Gilbert, Arizona