The love of a good dog never dies.
We’d just moved to a little town called Baldwinsville, on the Seneca River in central New York State, on an icy day in late January 2010. I was in between jobs and my son Logan was entering a new school mid-year, a first grader. Our Jack Russell Maggie was going strong, but it was becoming evident she needed a friend. Or so we thought, in our anthropomorphic way, as Maggie, more catlike than doglike, probably didn’t give a crap and loved being the only pet. She had barely accepted Logan but was resigned to the fact that he wasn’t leaving.
We’d just given up our Chinese Crested, Charlie, because of our move, and I was heartbroken. And Maggie’s daughter Jessie had been rehomed to a lovely British lady who had two other dogs, Bennie and Bennie. I’d always wanted a yellow Lab, so why not?
My husband, Rich, found a breeder in the foothills of the Adirondacks, just a few hours away.
She’d been born on the Fourth of July. This little firecracker stole my heart. She was white as snow and gentle as a dove. And the blackest eyes melted my being. And my green and teal scarf scared her for some reason. A quirky girl, who we later named Grace.
Fun Times
She came home to us in the fall, after we returned from a friend’s wedding. We stopped in a park on the way back and allowed her to run free for a bit. She always came back to us. Gracie never had designs on running off and she was modest and kind. The name Grace befit her.
Maggie sniffed her and immediately growled at her. “Let’s get one thing straight. I’m the boss.” Gracie had turned her head and accepted that she’d have to find her place in our house, alongside and perhaps behind Maggie. She was all right with it, though.
Walking Logan to the school bus stop a few blocks away was a new treat, until Grace discovered she did not like air brakes and ran away! Another time while walking, a trash pickup truck driver stopped to ask about her. She was friendly but cowered, leery of the brakes.
Gracie made the winter blues fade. We walked she and Maggie in the woods near our home, where she befriended the neighbor white Shepherd mix, Whiskey, and Duchess the St. Bernard pain in the rear.
Growing Pains
Her introduction to how protective she truly was, despite her timidity, came clear right after she came to us. One night she began to bark. And I ran into Logan’s room. He was crying. His bones hurt and he was scared. Thank you, Gracie, for the announcement, as Logan was always hesitant to show pain, and we might not have known.
It was growing pains, which apparently are real. So is the love of a caring dog.
Gracie Mae Alcott would always run into Logan’s bedroom when Dad announced, “Okay, Bud,” knowing it was bedtime. This happened every night.
Traveling Dog
We took Gracie (and Maggie) on all our trips. The first one she took with us was upstate, where Rich had to work overnight. She stayed with us in a motel and somehow did not understand the situation, so she ran back outside and under the truck. She came back out, but we realized then she was a timid creature. But with timidity comes kindness and companionship.
Befriending a cow in Ohio, March 2011
Indigenous People's Day trip to Greig, NY, 2012, with son, Jimmy
She traveled with us on day trips, long trips, and everything in between. She came with us to New York City and out to Columbus, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Ithaca, and all throughout New York State. Gracie loved running and chasing tennis balls, much to Maggie’s chagrin. They were her balls.
And of course she loved the water. Summers with Gracie were awesome. Living on the river has many benefits, but a white yellow Lab rolling in the mud is not one of them. We joked that she was a chocolate Lab wannabe.
"Chocolate" Lab
Swimming in Pennsylvania
She came on vacation with us when we rented a house on an island in the Thousand Islands, and as always, took her place next to Logan on the bed. She never cared that he piled toys next to him. She just loved that closeness.
Matching Christmas girls, 2010
Saved by the Plumber
In the winter of 2012, we bred Gracie to Kelly, a red standard poodle from Binghamton. He was a cutie, too. He had one brown spot on his back and a forever-surprised look on his face.
She became pregnant, and we kept one of the pups, who were born on our bed. Jimmy, a red Labradoodle, has an endlessly surprised look on his face and is not scared of scarves but is frightened by a lot of other things except the UPS guy.
Jimmy's born, 4/20/12
We were at my father-in-law Dick’s funeral. (By the way he adored Gracie.) And the plumber, who’d been working on our new bathroom, called to say she was stuck under the steps to the yard, where the dogs went potty. He helped her out. Poor girl. It’s not easy being pregnant and your folks are out probably enjoying themselves.
Grace with Grandpa Dick, Winter 2011
Something’s Wrong
In the fall of 2012, we noticed Gracie was not eating much and had lost a bit of weight. Had she swallowed something? Was it the flu? The vet was stumped and thought perhaps it was Lyme disease. A few months went by, and things did not improve.
We brought her to the veterinary emergency room twice. At the second visit, a veterinarian explained that testing was needed. They performed scans. Gracie had multiple tumors, many surrounding her heart, and was diagnosed with Lymphoma.
They recommended we euthanize.
I had never experienced anything like this. Such a young, sweet friend. The things we would never do together, the people she would never meet. The son she’d had who wouldn’t get to see his mama anymore.
Angel
Logan and I had an annual tradition of doing something special on President’s Day. Normally we would go shopping for Legos or Transformers, and once we went snowshoeing for the first time. In 2013, we picked up Gracie’s ashes.
Grace on her final day, 2/3/13
RIP, Dear Gracie Mae Alcott. Every time I look into Jim’s eyes I see yours. The way his ears perk up when I’m ready to walk, I remember you. We will always love and cherish the moments with you, albeit few, and expect you are with Dick now, running from buses and scarves and jumping onto a little boy’s bed, somewhere where things are peaceful and deserving of your ways.
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