I've sat on these two pictures for a couple of days pondering what I could write. It's been one week four days and four hours since we sent Fenway to The Bridge, but I am not keeping track. It seems so long ago. Obviously, we have tons of pictures in our house of him and pictures of us with him. We can't take a step without thinking of him. I took Scott's truck today and the bench seat was in the folded position covered...I mean covered with Fenway's fur. Something tells me, as anal as he is about that truck, he won't vacuum it. There are pictures all over my desk and wall in my classroom. And of course he is in our heart.

I won't be posting here anymore, but I will be keeping the blog online. I will move it to a new folder called, "Fenway" and create a new site for our new furry friends. If all goes well, our new rescue is to arrive on Sunday - pending travel complications. He has a name given to him by the rescue organization, but we have opted to slowly change it to a name that begins with F in honor of Fenway. His name will be Ferris. Then in two or so weeks, the second rescue will arrive. Yes, we are bringing two new faces into our home. We will be keeping his name, Cameron. At first we figured it was a good Boston sports name for Cam Neely the former Boston Bruin, but at midnight Tuesday I woke from a dead sleep. Ferris Bueller's best friend in Ferris Bueller's Day Off is Cameron. It was meant to be.

We've had a pretty rough month with the loss of both Fenway and Spencer to cancer. Two years ago in February I lost my first cat, Sebastian unexpectedly as well. I am hoping for new beginnings and I hope that those of you that have been so supportive during our strife will stick around for the stories we will have with our new brood.

Nothing can replace our sweet baby, but hopefully his spirit will linger in theirs.



Thank you to Sebastian (Sabbatini), Fenway (Shwazzydog) and Spencer (Spencer-beanie). You guys taught me well and I will always love you for it.

I felt off all day today. Fenway was heavy on my mind more than normal. The weekend was tough as it was our first without him and the first time where we didn't have to work and have our minds preoccupied. I cried a lot Saturday and a little less on Sunday. But as I said, today I was off.

I came home and began to start downloading the video that had been sitting in my camcorder since February. Video of good times. Video of Fenway going nuts in the snow. The laughter in his eyes and the laughter in my voice. A great memory. As the camcorder was downloading the scenes, the phone rang. My stomach jumped. It was the emergency clinic letting me know that Fenway's ashes had arrived. I told them I would be right over. I live two miles from the clinic so I meant what I said.

Nothing prepares a pet owner to go to pick up their baby's ashes. I was presented with a small cardboard box with his name on it. I lost it. I carried it to the car and immediately called Scott. I couldn't even breath. He thought something happened until I told him what I had in the front seat. He got quiet. Ten years all put into one cardboard box.

When I got home I carefully opened it and inside was a cedar square box. Quite heavy for what it is. It is sealed shut with screws and I have to decide where to place the engraved name plate. Do I put it on the top? Do I put it on the side? Where do I put the fugly silk rose that keeps falling apart? Fenway is probably wagging his tail at that.

As I pulled into the driveway and garage I said, "Bubba, we're home..." It's habit really. Is it normal to talk to a box? I've done it three times. Now it is sitting on the coffee table and I keep staring at it. I don't even know where to put it. Are these normal feelings because I've never had to do this before.

I guess I will just continue to download video into the laptop to put online. It's just a little harder than it was thirty minutes ago.

This is the video I spoke about before. This was taken just fifteen days before Fenway went to The Bridge. It is just amazing how fast the end was.

This video is about three and a half minutes long and is 14MB in length. Give it time to load. It is hysterical and worth every minute.

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This is so completely true, as well as this.

The student of whom I counseled yesterday told me that her dog had Hemangiosarcoma, but they didn't know it. Isn't that unreal? She came home to find a new puppy though. I don't think I could do that. I feel guilty enough going through with the rescue. I know life goes on and that this was a process started before Fennie passed, but I feel so weird about it.

We received the call last night about four potential dogs. I've spoken with two foster parents today and both sound like they need us. The one my gut says to take has not been in a foster home so I am wondering about him being housebroken as he was a stray. We would foster to adopt him. The other really sounds lovely and needs a house where he is the king. He has been known to run, so that's my biggest fear. He loves the leash and loves other dogs. I have a call in to the third dog, but there was no answer so I will try later. The fourth is a wee bit special needs. I can't do that again. I am not being selfish, just tired.

I know it's natural to compare them to Fenway and I am trying so hard not to. When we've had perfection, where else can we go? I am not sure which is more official...a new dog coming into our home or Fenway's remains being returned to us. I suspect it's going to happen at around the same time.

I know everyone thinks their dog is special...but mine really was. A little man in a golden coat.

It has been an interesting couple of days. First, thank you for all the off blog emails, flowers, cards and well wishes. Any kind of death is somewhat more tolerable with the comfort of friends and family.

My personal loss isn't felt as much as it is as when I am outside. We've had warm weather and sunny skies. My favorite kind of afterschool weather with Fenway. When I go outside, I always stand where he once stood and it physically hurts. I feel him out there. I am sure one day it won't be pain I feel, but comfort. Scott and I will be planting a tree in Fenway's honor this Easter Sunday since we have no plans. My goal is to get a rock or slate engraved and put it beneath this tree, with perhaps a bench I have wanted for some time. Just a spot to talk with him I may get the nerve to put his remains there, but I am not sure about that yet.

A couple of oddities these past few days. We had our Golden Retriever Rescue home visit last night and it went quite well. It felt weird to talk of Fennie in the past tense and felt weird to be discussing getting a new dog. This was a process we had started before he passed, and I feel it is important to finish it now that he is gone. I am hoping sooner than later. The house is so quiet.

A fellow teacher came up to me today and said, "You are needed today, although the timing is pretty rough." It turned out that one of my students was hysterical because her dog of ten years was being sent to the Bridge today. Oh Lord. I was definitely being put to the test and sharing my recent pain to help another get through theirs. I gave her a copy of what I posted below about the proper place to bury a dog. She loved it. After she read it she just let loose all of her emotions and told me the story of her dog. I then shared my story of Fenway. I also let her know that I was with Fenway when he crossed The Bridge, and that it was painless and peaceful and that I am sure her dog went the same way. She was comforted by what I said. I, on the otherhand, am exhausted. It was too soon to share all of that.

I hope I made Fenway's tail wag.

We are thinking now of a dog, whose coat was flame in the sunshine and who, so far as we are aware, never entertained a mean or an unworthy thought.

….If a dog be well remembered, if sometimes he leaps through your dreams actual as in life, eyes kindling, laughing, begging, it matters not at all where the dog sleeps. On a hill where the wind is unrebuked and the trees roaring, or beside a stream he knew in puppyhood, or somewhere in the flatness of a pastureland where most exhilarating cattle graze. It is all one to the dog, and all one to you, and nothing is gained and nothing is lost--if memory lives.

But there is one best place to bury a dog. If you bury the dog in this spot, he will come to you when you call--come to you over the grim, dim frontiers of death, and down the well-remembered path, and to your side again. And though you call a dozen living dogs to heel they shall not growl at him, nor resent his coming, for he belongs there. People may scoff at you, who see no lightest blade of grass bent by [his] footfall, who hear no whimper, people who may never really have had a dog. Smile at them, for you shall know something that is hidden from them, and which is well worth knowing.

The one best place to bury a dog is in the heart of his guardian.

Adapted from If a Dog Be Well Rembered
Ben Hur Lampman, The Portland Oregonian, Sept. 11, 1925

and borrowed from a blogging friend.

I am Fenway a very spoiled Golden Retriever. I was born October 17, 1995 and was just recently diagnosed with Hemangiosarcoma. It is a cancer that can not be cured, but can be slowed down with chemotherapy, diet and holistic medicine. I am proof that one isn't dying from Cancer, but is LIVING with it. Follow my story!

WATCH MY VIDEOS HERE

• In Tribute
• Closure
• Fenway is Home
• The Video Finally or the Final Video
• A Fantastic Article
• Whoa...
• The Healing Process?
• Always in our Hearts
• Today, the Fight is Over
• Not So Good

• December 2005
• January 2006
• February 2006
• March 2006
• April 2006
• February 2007

• Canine Cancer Awareness
• Land of Pure Gold-Cancer Links
• Hemangiosarcoma
• Holistic Care
• Cancer Treatments
• Cancer Rules of the Road
• Hemangiosarcoma Power Point
• Ginger-A HSA Sucess Story
• Cancer Informaiton

• My Dogster Page
• Maine Millers - Patch - RIP
• Farrah-RIP
• Riggs
• Energy Paws
• Lucas

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