Gracie.

On a sunny and warm October 12, 1996, my husband and I went to the local shelter near Clear Lake to look for puppies. We looked at big dogs, little dogs, tiny puppies, older dogs...... we basically looked at every canine in the facility.

One black and white Border Collie/Black Lab mix fixed her eyes on my husband and it was love at first sight. They took that ten-week-old puppy out of the cage and she followed my husband all around the yard, never once taking her eyes off of him. "This is the one, without a doubt." I remember my husband saying that to me. I asked my husband how big he thought she would get, because I had always been used to small cuddly dogs. This dog's paws weren't tiny, but they weren't that big either. "She won't get too big," he said.... "She's going to be the perfect size."

And she was. Never getting heavier than 46 pounds or so, Gracie was a medium-sized dog with large-sized energy. Such energy that I couldn't control her in the beginning, and it was either bring her back to the shelter or invest in a dog trainer. The trainer it was, and it was the best money we ever spent on a pet. We learned how to cope with and control the boundless enthusiasm of a Border Collie/Black Lab puppy.

Gracie was the perfect dog. She never destroyed anything in the house, she didn't over-step the doggie-rules, and she truly loved the cats to the point of over-protection. Had we not had her fixed, she would have been a good mama to a litter of puppies, but we never had intentions of raising puppies, we just wanted a dog. Gracie loved everyone, and everyone loved Gracie. That's just how it always was.

We had to put Gracie to sleep this afternoon. The tumor that had been growing underneath her skin (for who knows how long) suddenly broke through her skin yesterday. The visit to the vet yesterday was a disappointment because we weren't happy with the facility there, and we wouldn't have left Gracie with them for any sort of procedure. Today, a different vet, a much more organized and nicer facility, and a doctor who told us what we needed to hear for Gracie's sake.

The tumor was a fast-growing aggressive kind of cancer. Yes, he could remove it, but because of her age, and because the tumor was located next to vital organs that kept her continent, there was no way to remove all of the growth without removing everything that would sustain her dignity. We originally had a late afternoon appointment with the vet today, but Gracie's tumor started bleeding at noon-time. A lot of her blood ended up on the kitchen floor. I called the vet and they said to bring her right in. Three minutes into the examination, the vet told us that more blood loss would put her into shock, and she wouldn't make it through the night without bleeding to death.

Gracie was always, beyond question, my husband's dog. He was the only person in her doggie-world. I was just a body who ordered boxes of dog food and gave her fresh water, and I happened to be there so she could get outside when my husband was working. I was not going to make this last decision for Gracie.

As the vet spoke to us, I kept thinking of that book "The Art of Racing in The Rain," by Garth Stein. I told my husband about that book when I read it and asked him to read it last year. I was so happy that he did, and I was hoping this afternoon that he would make a good decision for Gracie, no matter how much it was going to hurt both of us.

Put to sleep. Such an odd expression, but somehow, a gentle one. We stayed in the room when the vet gave Gracie the injection. I was behind my husband, holding on to his back, but unable to watch. Before they put Gracie up on the table, I told her what a good girl she was. I told her she had been the perfect dog. Not just the perfect dog for us, but the perfect dog.

The dynamics of a household change when someone leaves, when a dog is put to sleep. And a dog, especially one that has been part of your home for 14 years, is like a person, is someone, a member of the family. A dog is not just a dog, especially when she's been the perfect dog. And she was, and we'll miss her. But we also know that we did the right thing. Not for us, maybe, but for Gracie, and that's what she always counted on.