Let me tell you a story about a girl named Sass! I was lucky to have known the greatest dog who ever lived. She was smart, kind, gentle, obedient, helpful, loving and stunningly beautiful. She never hurt anything or anyone. (Though she used to love to chase flies!) She wouldn't even bark at squirrels or other dogs. She made it seem like that sort of thing was "beneath" her. She was actually quite shy, but very well behaved and well mannered. Almost, dare I say, "human" in many of her qualities. But in other qualities she seemed supra-human.

Shortly after 9/11 I decided I needed a canine companion in my life. My first step was to hang a photo of Lassie and I from Universal Studios on my refrigerator. I took that picture during a visit with my parents in the year 2000. As soon as my dad saw how I hugged Lassie he said to my mom, "I think Wally's going to get a dog." My next step was to get a big stuffed Lassie from a toy store. As it sat in The Puppet Room I would talk to it to try getting used to having a dog living with me. It may sound silly, but I hadn't had a pet since my childhood dog Ralph. So this was going to be a huge adjustment for me and I wanted to make sure it was the right thing to do.

With the Lassie at Universal

Once I made the decision to get a dog I somehow ran across a wonderful organization called Southland Collie Rescue. I don't remember how I became aware of them exactly, but I'm glad I did. They sent out a representative to my house named Stephen Colley. (Yes, that was his REAL name!) He looked around my place and decided it would be suitable for a collie adoption. He asked what I wanted in a dog and I said he/she had to look like Lassie (I've loved Lassie ever since I was a kid) and he/she had to be very social because I entertained guests often. He said a 2 year old female collie matching my description was going up for adoption that weekend in Thousand Oaks. He asked, "What are you doing this weekend?" I replied, "Going to see a collie in Thousand Oaks."

I got the address and headed over on a Saturday afternoon. I was very nervous. When I got to the home of Dick and Marie B. I saw 7 collies running around the yard. The parents were comprised of a beautiful male who looked like Lassie, and a large female tri-color (black, white and brown). At the back of the pack was a timid female that was the perfect mix of the two parents. The striking features of her father, but with a little bit of dark coloring on her body courtesy of her mom.

But why would they want to place these beautiful collies in new homes? Marie B. was very sick with diabetes and had been hospitalized for quite some time. In fact, she had gotten out of the hospital for just a few hours to meet the potential adopters that afternoon. She sat in the front seat of a car, still hooked up to tubes and medicine bags. Her vision had deteriorated because of the diabetes. I spoke with her and she explained that her husband was going to keep 3 of the collies (including the parents) but 4 of them were going to new homes. They just couldn't bear the responsibilities of so many dogs with Marie's deteriorating condition. Since the timid Sassie was the only available dog for adoption that matched my desired description, I went over to meet her. I'll never forget this as long as I live. I stopped in front of her, took her soft, long face in my hands and looked into her beautiful brown eyes. I said, "Are you my new dog?" I'd like to say an instant connection was made right then and there, but the truth is...she couldn't have cared less who about me. I let her go and she ran about the yard enjoying the day.

Many of the potential adopters had brought their own dogs to see if they could get along with the collie of their choice. All of the dogs were cavorting around, sniffing each others' butts, etc. Except for Sassie. She stayed to the back as if to say, "I'm not really into that dog stuff." I liked that she seemed so mellow and laid back. Perfect for me!

I stood by the passenger door of Marie's car and spoke with her for awhile to tell her a little about myself. Then the narrator in me started to surface. Since Marie couldn't see any of the doggie frivolities, I started to narrate the action for her. I told her what the dogs were doing, where they were going, what kind of dogs were coming over, etc. After a brief conversation Marie yelled to her husband, "Dick! I want Wally to have Sassie!" My heart leapt to my throat. My life was going to change from this day forward! On the drive home I was totally nervous. What if it didn't work out? What if she didn't like me? It was like coming home after a first date.

Shortly before Christmas of 2001, the arrangements were made through Collie Rescue that I would pick her up after her spaying surgery and take her home to her new life. She would be my Christmas dog! I met the SCR people in the parking lot of a Wendy's and took Sassie into my care a short while after our initial meeting. I liked her name so I decided not to change it. Besides, she was already 2 years old and changing a name would further complicate her adjustment. I knew she would have enough to deal with, being separated from her family and so forth.

She was groggy on the way home, but I got her situated in the living room with her new bed and food and water bowls. She was unsure of her new surroundings, and for days she wouldn't leave the living room. Plus, she may have been a little lonely for her family. After coming inside from walking on the leash, I would leave the leash on and lead her upstairs to investigate the rest of the house. Only then would she venture into the other rooms with me. She hadn't had any experience being on a leash, so that took some adjustment as well.

I called upon a trainer who specialized in Collies whom I call Cathy the Collie Lady. She didn't just teach Sassie behaviors, she taught ME how to teach Sassie behaviors. So she worked with me on how to walk with her on a leash. It was only a matter of time before she was comfortable wandering around every area of the house. Jumping up on the couch to nap, joining me on the Chaney Room futon to relax with me, and wrestling with me in the living room was commonplace. And my favorite thing of all, jumping up on my bed to wait for me to finish my shower so we could eat and watch TV together before going to sleep for the night. That will always be my favorite memory of her. Coming out of the shower and walking into the bedroom, with Sassie already up on the bed with her "crossy paws" (she always sat with her paws crossed like a true lady) and a big anxious smile on her face. We spent lots of time laying around on the bed watching old TV shows on DVD, and hand-feeding her pieces of grilled "chicky" or hot dogs sliced up into little "coins." Life just didn't get better than that.

Sassie was never much of an outdoor dog. The noise from the street frightened her and she would weave all around me in panic. She never quite did get used to walking on the street. Her hearing was so acute that any noise on the street was amplified 100 times above what I was capable of hearing. I suppose that would scare me too. On the way the groomer she would be lagging behind, and it would be all I could do to coax her along. But after her bath, she was so anxious to get home she would literally pull me down the street! So much so I considered getting roller skates and letting her just pull me home!

I took her to the off-leash dog park on a few occasions, but she never did get the hang of it. She stayed by my side the entire time, instead of going off to frolic with the other dogs. I figured that wasn't for her so we never went back.

"Grandma" Marie B. lived quite a few years longer than they expected, thankfully, and she and Dick would drive by my house when they were in the neighborhood. They would pull the car up outside my garage and Sassie and I would go out to greet them. Sassie recognized her voice instantly and would run around to the passenger side of the car with her tail wagging wildly. Though Marie couldn't see Sassie, she could feel and hear how excited she was to see her. When they drove off Sassie had a puzzled look on her face. She was confused as to whom to go with...stay with me, or drive off with Grandma Marie.

Marie and Sassie's bond was special. She would tell me the story about how Sassie nearly died at birth. If not for Marie staying up around the clock, hand-feeding Sassie and coaxing her to live, Sassie might never have made it. Sadly, Grandma Marie passed away a few years ago, and I've lost touch with her husband Dick.

Things were going along well and Sassie and I were in a groove! But in late 2009 I noticed that she was having trouble getting up on the bed by herself. She was also having trouble getting up the stairs. I knew Collies had hip problems and issues with arthritis, but when I took her to her vet he surmised that her condition was a neurological one and not arthritis or dysplasia. I took her to a specialty vet and they said they could do a run of tests and an MRI, but it still may not be conclusive. One thing it definitely was going to be was expensive! I opted not to do the tests at that time. I used to think it was funny when she would get up from a nap on the couch and her leg would be asleep. She would hobble around like a drunken sailor until she got the feeling back in her legs. In the past year or so she suffered from what we discovered was degenerative mylopathy (where the nerves slowly die off) and her gait took on that of a drunken sailor. But this time I wasn't laughing.

I watched her slowly deteriorate and there wasn't anything anybody could do to restore her dying nerves. No surgery, no pills, nothing. Watching my lovely friend deteriorate made me sad, but the feeling of helplessness made me even sadder. I would have paid any amount of money or given anything I had to help defeat her condition. There was nothing I could do but begin to plan for her ultimate and inevitable passing.

By the spring of 2011 her deterioration was accelerating. In addition to having difficulty walking, Sassie was also having difficulty keeping weight on. She had lost a lot of her beefy frame and was very boney. I put down a large rug over my living room carpet in case Sassie had an accident when I wasn't home. One night out of frustration, I curled up in a fetal position on my couch and cried out to God for help and wisdom. The word acupuncture came to mind. So I found a vet who did acupuncture in-home and started weekly visits. At first it looked like it was helping! For a few days after the treatment she would walk on her own, albeit slowly, to the yard to do her business. But she had a difficult time squatting properly and always needed to be cleaned off afterwards. After five acupuncture visits it looked as if it had stopped having an effect.

Tuesday the 21st of June I heard her crying in her bed. She hadn't barked in a long time. In fact a lot of her "spark" had diminished considerably over the past few months. These barks were cries for help. She couldn't move and could only lie on her side in her bed. She was telling me that she needed a drink or to go potty. She would just go on her potty pad, and I would take it out and replace it with another one. This was no life at all. That following Saturday, in desperation, I called her acupuncture vet to ask what to do. She suggested I get an MRI to rule out compressed discs or brain abnormalities. So I made the appointment for the next day.

That night I kept Sassie in my bedroom. It would be the last night we would be together. I'm so glad a few nights earlier I had her on the bed for one last "chicky on the bed" evening. But while she seemed to enjoy being with me, she wasn't that interested in eating. She had become so lame that I had to hold her between my legs so she could drink water. The last time she ate was earlier that afternoon, as I took a fork and fed her chunks of food from a can by hand as she lay on her side. But she did put away a can and a half!

The next day we were headed all the way to Tustin. My car wasn't big enough for Sassie to lay comfortably, so my good friends Joe and Zandra Pendleton drove their SUV all the way from Lompoc on a Sunday afternoon, picked me up and drove another 50 miles to Tustin with Sassie in the back. We consulted with the neurologist who wanted to keep her overnight to get an early morning MRI on Monday. She said she would call me with the results first thing in the morning. Needless to say I didn't sleep very well that night. The last time I would see Sassie was as the doctor and assistant carried her off in her big leopard print bed.

That night I prayed for some sort of brain or spine abnormality, because that meant surgery may be able to restore some of her mobility. Though it would cost thousands I didn't care. I was actually PRAYING to be able to spend the money. But Monday morning Dr. Murray called and said the good news was that her brain and spine were completely normal. The bad news was that her brain and spine were completely normal, and her condition was most likely due to her degenerative mylopathy. And there is no cure or surgery possible. She offered to take a test of the spinal fluid to rule out infection or inflammation, but she would have to be sedated for that. Even still it would only be a 40% chance that it would tell her anything helpful. Though Sassie was still under sedation as we spoke, she wasn't doing well. Her blood pressure was very low and she needed to be brought out soon. The pressure to make a decision was immediate. Would I let them bring her out, only to put her under again for a spinal test tomorrow? And then bring her back home only to possibly have to let her go for good? It wasn't making logical sense to me.

My emotional side subsided, and my logical prevailed. She was already under anesthesia, and it would be painless and merciful to just let her go then and there. I asked the doctor what she would do if Sassie were her dog, and she agreed with my decision to let her go. I kept my cool pretty well during the conversation, but when I hung up the phone I slunk to my knees and cried like I hadn't cried I since was in diapers. I wept like a child and made wailing sounds that seemed almost inhuman. Sounds I didn't know I could make. I cried out to God for strength. The day I had been dreading for so long was here. This was the absolute saddest thing I have ever encountered. It felt like somebody stuck a needle in me and was draining out my very soul.

Sass and I didn't have quite a full 10 years together. More like 9 and a half years. But it was mostly all wonderful, and I'll remember those times with Sassie the rest of my life. Laying together on the bed at night watching TV while I fed her chickie is what I will miss most. I'll also miss her excitement when she heard the garage door opening and my car driving in. Her barked greetings to me when I walked up the stairs to give her a kiss and a pet and have her "go through the tunnel." Her hilarious and clumsy play times with my cat Spooky. How I trained her to come to dinner when I whistled the "Lassie" theme song. Playing the "Greenie" game. Coming through the door and saying "Daddy's home!" and listening to her howls of delight. And when she was unable to climb stairs anymore, I would hold her in my arms and fly her around the house like Krypto the Superdog and sing "Flying dooog" to her. They were all magical moments. Moments which I'll only experience again in the confines of my memory.

I will have to force myself to remove her items from the house, as catching a glimpse of her half empty water bowl will immediately plunge a knife into my heart and send me into a fit of weeping. I donated one of her beds to an animal shelter, but I'll keep the other one under my bed for awhile. I'm also donating her remaining food and treats to a local shelter.

My old pal Dave in South Dakota suggested that I get out of the house as much as possible and occupy my mind with other stuff. I found that to be good advice and I hope to spend as much time out with good friends as possible. But when I return to the house at night it's too quiet. It's now just two bachelors together...me and my cat Spooky. However, I wouldn't be surprised if by the end of this year...

I thank God that the situation was such that I didn't have to see her lifeless body or be there as the life left her body. I've heard from several friends that it's the worst experience imaginable. That would have been a mental picture that would have haunted me all my life. It was my intention to be with her at that moment, as I think it's cowardly to leave your pet alone at that trying time. But I had no choice in the matter as it was logical to let her go where she was. God made that decision for me. Though I do wish I would have had the foresight to keep a pawprint as a memento.

As I gather up her belongings around the house I can smell her scent on some of her things. My cat Spooky is just now starting to realize that Sassie isn't coming home. When it sinks in, I'm sure he's going to be sad too. Sassie was his "mommy dog."

Sassie and Spook

But as I reflect on our time together, I take great solace in the warmth and love Sassie gave to others. Kids would come up and yell "Lassie!" They would pet her, and I would have her do tricks for them. People would see us walking on the street and yell from their cars "Beautiful dog!" She would cuddle up in the midst of my friends on movie nights, like she was one of the gang and sleep soundly. Planet Wallywood will be a little less exciting and welcoming now. But I hope that the spirit of all Sassie represented will linger in the house forever.

I also take some comfort in the fact that I believe I will see her again in Heaven. Some believe pets and animals can't go to Heaven, but a place without dogs and animals isn't my idea of Heaven at all! What's the part in the Bible about "the lion and the lamb shall lie down together?" I believe God wants us to be eternally happy in Heaven, and that includes being with ALL the loved ones who shared your earthly life. Do you really believe that of all of God's vast and wonderful creations, only humans will populate Heaven? How boring would that be? In fact, I believe that Grandma Marie and Sassie are together now, and are awaiting my arrival. Because if anyone deserved an eternity in Heaven it would certainly be Sassie. She was one swell dog! My Sassafrass girl.