Good Dog

Spring of 1991. I was away on a Cursillo weekend shortly after my cat, Matesa, aka Kitten (because nobody could pronounce "Matesa"), had passed away. I came home, walked in the door and there was this thing that looked exactly like an Ewok. She looked up at me and immediately went wild with joy. I had never had a dog before, and all I could say to her was, "Have some dignity, willya?" I was used to cats, who would never let on they like you even if they do.

Gracie was a Schnoodle, a mix I was familiar with from working with a guy who had one at Town and Country Store. Freak was wicked smart, friendly and easygoing, never barked once in the store. I don't think the managers ever knew he was there, but we knew when they were coming because Freak would hide, and we'd get back to work.

From the very beginning, Gracie was the perfect kids' dog. Schnauzers aren't known for being real kid friendly, and I never cared much for poodles (no disrespect to folks who do), but for some reason the blend of the two makes a great dog. Gracie learned a few tricks -- sit, speak, give a paw, up, lay down, head down -- and was so into it that if you said "Sit!" she would then do all the rest of the tricks in a row without waiting for the command.

If there was any problem with Gracie at all, it was that she was a bit neurotic about being left alone. We would come home to find the toilet paper torn off the rolls. Turns out that problem was easy to fix. We got another dog, Katy. They were inseparable.

She also got along well with the cats, as in this very early picture of Cinders with Gracie.
Funny, out of hundreds of pictures I went through for this entry, these are just about all the pictures I found of Gracie. She was just always there, sitting just outside the dining room, waiting for something to hit the ground.
In her final years, a series of stroke-like events left her confused and weakened, and right after New Year's Day '07 I even took her to the vet's expecting not to bring her back. Dr. Shenk gave her some pain/arthritis pills and she rallied long enough to make it to her 16th birthday. When the time came, there was only one more thing I could do for her.

The last words spoken into her ear were, "Gracie's a good dog." She was.