Life as we know it ...: So sad . . .

My boss John's wonderful dog, Lillian, died Saturday morning. Here is the note he sent out to let us all know:

We lost our Lillian this morning. She was in radiation treatment for an apparent brain tumor. She did well overnight, but her glucose and blood pressure dropped, and she was gone around 7 this morning.

Karen and I went to see her remains. Then we went back again with Khayenne and Erik. Emily is out of town, so we had to call her with the news.

Khayenne sniffed Lillian a bit, and acted agitated, she wanted my attention and didn't want to stay too long. Khay understood, in her own way.

The following tribute I never could have written on the spur of the moment. It's largely based on Lill's birthday note from last October. My heart is broken.

Lillian was my heart dog, the the first dog I ever seriously trained. She was originally a Christmas Puppy for our two kids. One thing led to another, we started in basic obedience class, and then just never really stopped.

Lillian came from a "backyard breeder" in St. Francisville, LA, from a litter of eight born October 24, 1996.

Her first obedience trial was just before her second birthday, with a score of 193 and 2nd Place in Novice A.

Lill finished UDX just before her sixth birthday, earning 4 High Combineds and 1 High in Trial along the way. Her highest career obedience score was 198, which she earned on two separate occasions in Open B.

We weren't going past UDX, but neither were we ready to stop working. So Lill started a new career in agility at age 6. Lillian was never very fast, but after all that obedience she was very reliable. She rarely got a wrong course or a refusal -- all those things you worry about with a fast dog were just not an issue -- but by the time we got to Excellent B it was a real challenge for us to make course time. I would often leave her in an air conditioned hotel room until the last minute, or pull out a special toy to work her up ringside, just so she would run a second or two faster, which could often be the difference between a Q and an NQ for us, especially in Jumpers. She finished AX + AXJ only seven months after starting her first agility class, and MX + MXJ fourteen months after that. She went on to earn AXP and AJP in a second agility career (preferred), from which she retired after the GRCA National in Gettysburg, 2005.

Then Lill had a second obedience career of sorts, when Rally became a titling class, earning RAE.

And Lill did tracking, too. Something funny happened to us in tracking. She would track fine for me in practice. But she would shut down at a test. At both of her first two tests she never even made the first turn. The first time I thought she was confused by local conditions (cow manure on the track), but after the second test, when the same thing happened on the first leg, I thought very hard about what was going on. Answer: She was reacting to my stress. In obedience and agility, it didn't matter if Daddy was stressed in the ring, because she could still do what I told her to do. But in tracking, it is the dog who is in charge. I can't tell her what to do, she has to figure it out. She must have thought she was doing something wrong because of my stress, and wouldn't track for me at a test.

My wife Karen came to our rescue. She loves our dogs, but has never really gotten into all the activities and competitions. She graciously agreed to handle Lillian in tracking. I am forever grateful to Karen. I think that Lillian's TD was the most special title she earned throughout her career. At age 9 1/2, on her third try with Karen, Lillian earned her TD and VCD1 and VCD2 one sunny day in Fort Worth, Texas, February 26, 2006.

By then Khayenne had joined our family (in August 2004 actually), and I was spending more time training the young upstart, and less time with Lillian. Unlooked for (and initially unwelcome), a new opportunity for Lillian popped up - theater. She was "drafted" for the role of Sandy in a production of the musical "Annie." It turned out to be more fun than I ever would have expected. Here‚s a picture of Lill in NYC in July 2007, reprising her solo scene in "Annie." Sandy, lost, wanders the stage alone in Times Square, looking for her Annie. She has just found a glove that Annie recently dropped:

Yes, that is actually Lillian in Times Square. The image was not Photoshopped.

"Annie" was so much fun for us both that she was in three other shows. There was a cameo part written just for her in "Bye Bye Birdie," and she had three small parts in "Into the Woods" (including the impostor cow). Her theatrical swan song was in February 2009, when she and Khayenne shared the role of Toto in "Wizard of Oz." 12-year-old Lillian was in the Kansas scenes, and 4-year-old Khayenne was Toto in Oz.

One reason for splitting the role between the two dogs was stamina - to be onstage the entire show is tiring, and Lillian was getting older. Another reason was symbolic. I don't think anyone else picked up on the symbolism, not even my family members. Remember that in "Wizard" the events in Oz are all a dream. The main characters in Oz are transformed from people that Dorothy knew in Kansas - Professor Marvel becomes the Wizard; the farmhands become Lion, Scarecrow, and Tin Man; Elmira Gulch becomes the Witch.

So here's the symbolism: In the dream . . . the old dog becomes young again.

Don't we all wish? Oh, don't we wish. Like the Tinman, my heart is broken.

We thought we were going to lose our Lillian three years ago, in April 2008. To make a long story short, she had a very bad reaction to prednisone, but pulled through it OK. Every day since then has been a bonus day, and we have treasured them all. Karen has been Lill's buddy on our daily walks.

Lillian's Swan Song of Swan Songs, her last appearance in any venue or on any stage, was in Veterans Novice Obedience, at the GRCA National last year in Enid, Oklahoma, just past her 13th Birthday. She finished in style, taking second place with a well-deserved score of 196.

Erik and Emily's Lillian VCD2, UDX, RAE, TD, MX, MXJ, AXP, AJP

Our sweet, sweet, wonderful girl. We miss you so much.

John

Then this morning he sent us these:

Below are two of my favorite pictures of Lillian.

The first was taken with Karen's iPhone at Avery Island, Louisiana in April 2010.

The second was taken by professional photographer Michael Loftis in November 2007 in Vancleave, Mississippi at Lillian's last agility trial -- which was also the only NADAC trial of her career. She ran in the Veterans class; and yes, it was a qualifying run.

John losing poor Lillian was awful enough, but a few days ago, Janet and Mike took Dave, that gorgeous horse they got just a few months ago, over to LSU to find out what that lump on his jaw was. It turned out to be an incredibly fast-growing malignant tumor that had begun in his jaw and had already closed off his breathing on that side and was spreading quickly. They were forced to let them euthanize him there at the vet school.

I'll tell you, I don't even want to be here at work today. I want to go home and hug all our critters.

4/12/11 Note from John:

To Lillian's Many Friends,

Thank you all, so much, for your many and varied expressions of sympathy -- every one of them from the heart.

The outpouring of sympathy on the loss of our Lillian is overwhelming. It seems everyone loved Lillian. She was such a sweet soul.

Forgive me this mass e-mailing, rather than the individual responses you each deserve. There are so many of you, it would take too long to get to everyone, and I fear I would never finish.

I appreciate all your heart-felt gestures -- because that's what they are, from the heart. Most of you have been through this by now, the loss of your "heart dog," and you know how painful it is. For those who simply said, "I don't know what to say," for those who held long conversations, for those who sent short e-mails, for those who sent long e-mails, for those who telephoned, for those who sent cards -- I appreciate you all equally. Thank you. It means more than you know.

When you have a dog . . . you always know that day is going to come, eventually . . . but you don't think it's really going to happen. Not really. And then, one day, it does. How? How can that be? That's just the way Nature is.

Lillian left us the same weekend as LCCOC's annual agility trial. Khayenne and I missed part of the trial Friday, and all of Saturday. I thought hard, but decided we should be there on Sunday. Some said they couldn't believe we were there. Others said they understood exactly why we were. It was hard, but I decided it was the right thing for us to do. I knew that so many people would offer condolences -- sincere condolences, not the perfunctory kind -- and that every time someone said something, my eyes would water up again. And sure enough, they did. But you know what, it was a rare opportunity, so soon after our loss, to be surrounded by so many others who understood, who truly understood. It was hard. It hurt. But it helped with the grieving process, if only just a little. It sure beat staying at home, and it was much better than going to the office today. (And not just in the usual sense of "A bad day of agility beats a good day at the office.") Lots of people I knew came up to me, of course, but surprisingly, even many people from out of town who I didn't think I knew that well. It was touching.

Special thanks to those who pitched in course-building when I wasn't there -- John Nagle, Jon Morar, Cindy Diglis, Anna from LSU, and anyone else I've overlooked (especially on Saturday).

We didn't Q on Sunday, but it didn't matter. Khayenne ran well, and she had fun. That's what counts, isn't it? Our mistakes were small, especially compared to the many mistakes we made on Friday, when I was still worrying myself over Lillian's ongoing treatment.

Khayenne is currently faring better than the rest of us, to tell the truth. She is following me around a little more than usual, but she seems to accept that Lillian is gone. It's a great comfort to have Khayenne with us. This would be even harder without Khay.

There is a Lillian-sized hole in my heart. With time, the edges of the hole may become less ragged. But it will never completely fill.

We miss our sweet girl.

John