Belle

On April 17th, just three months shy of her 14th birthday, we put down our sweet black lab, Belle. She had been Fred's faithful companion well before I ever entered the picture, accompanying him from Kentucky to Alabama at the tender age of 8 weeks as he began veterinary school. She was by far the sweetest, gentlest canine soul in the world. We had lost her son, Beau, just a year-and-a-half earlier after a long battle against bone cancer. We were saddened beyond words when he left us and dreaded the day that Belle would follow her boy.

The early days of Fred's and my relationship are inextricably linked to Belle, Beau and (my dog) Mickey. Our first dates revolved around watching our furry friends cavort, swim, dig and fetch. We spent hours walking with them in the pastures outside our little garage apartment in Watkinsville. They went hiking, camping, and traveling with us. They were our babies. As it usually goes, though, those "babies" eventually had to take a back seat to the human ones who soon entered our lives. As with most dogs, however, they never seemed to harbor an ounce of resentment over dropping down a few lines on our list of priorities. They were happy enough that we remembered to feed them and managed to pat them on their smelly heads a couple times a day.

Today, two of our three beloved dogs are now gone. Mickey, at the age of 10, is still pretty energetic and spunky, although gray hairs are starting to replace the black, brown and white ones on his once vibrant coat. I am content that we allowed Belle and Beau to go peacefully and without anxiety or prolonged suffering, but I am saddened that those links to the early days of our relationship are disappearing. I realize more and more every day that although our pets' positions within the family have shifted over the years, the spots they hold in our hearts will never change.