It has taken me a couple of days to be able to write this one. At almost 14 years of age, and after a nearly year and a half fight against cancer, I had to let a very large piece of my heart go. I am grateful for that year and a half - originally we were sent home with 30 days worth of steroids and the warning that it was "probably all she will need," but that gratitude is hard to grasp this week.
The journey started as a transport, but I was sure we were meant to be from the first time I saw her in the parking lot where we met the shelter worked who pulled her. It was a wild and rocky journey at first - a young and willful Dobe who really didn't think she needed to follow the rules. She was my first real agility dog, and I am not sure a lesser partner ever could have gotten me trained. She took her job seriously though, and managed to put several titles on me in her career. She didn't like puppies or having her picture taken, but she loved people and attention (and especially massages). There are so many great stories from a partnership this long, but the most appropriate today is probably the one where I was lost on an agility course, trying to salvage the run and failing miserably, when Roxie left me to go sit by the judge. I always assumed she didn't feel the need to waste her time running around while I figured things out. I think it was around that time that a fellow agility competitor suggested I get Rox a phone, so she could dial 411 (to maybe actually get directions) when she ran with me. I think it is fair to say that no matter how lost I ever was on a course with you, Roxanna-Nana, it's nothing compared to how lost I am without you.