This is a column

for Red, my mom and stepdad's dog.

Red was Charlie's

dog when he and my mom got married and she had just had a litter of puppies.

Red was a large golden retriever whose coat was more red than golden.

Hence the name.

And when I

say large, I don't mean tall like a Great Dane but rather large like people

in all those before pictures in weight loss ads. Red was also old. When

I moved back home after college, Red was already pushing 10, which in

dog years is 70. She was playful for an old, fat dog and quiet, which

was a blessing. In all the years I knew her I can't remember her ever

barking. By all accounts, she was a good dog.

My family never

had a dog before. Just cats. Lots of cats. They were all great pets in

their own right - one rang the doorbell when she wanted to come in, one

fit in my sneakers when he was a kitten (and my family would say the stench

never came out of his coat) and they were all loved and taken care of.

There were lots of dogs in our neighborhood though and we played with

them as much as we would our own.

But it is different

owning a dog. I think this is because, in the end, they own you. Not only

do you worry about the chores that are associated with any pet such as

letting the dog out and making sure it is fed, but gradually it becomes

a part of the family, someone you love as much as any relative or friend

(sometimes maybe even a little bit more). In the end, the loss of the

pet hurts as much as the loss of a loved one. The grief is the same.

Red had to

be put to sleep last week. She had trouble moving and was very sick. She

was suffering and nobody in our family could bear to see her in such pain.

Though I haven't lived at home in several years, I saw Red every week,

talked to her and fed her my table scraps after dinner. Sabine, who has

always been nervous around dogs, grew to be comfortable around most dogs,

because of our gentle giant. They would play a game when they saw each

other, where Sabine would blow on Red's nose and Red would put both paws

on top of her face to obstruct the breeze. It made everybody laugh - I

think even Red was laughing on the inside.

As I reflected

on the time that I knew Red, I find myself wishing for more time. I wish

I walked her more (she could have used it), and I wish I played with her

more. I wish I could have said goodbye.

Red lived a

very long life and she was beloved. I will always remember her sad, puppy

dog eyes looking up at us while we ate dinner, just as I will always remember

her stuffed animal, I think it was a porcupine. Whatever it was, it made

a grunting noise as she chewed it and it was never far from her spot in

the living room.

I know that

this is the natural progression of life and that the life of pets is never

long enough for the people who love them. The only comfort at a time like

this is that we shared many years of happiness with Red and now, any pain

she was in is over.

We will miss

her.

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