One of A Kind

Diana Panico Pintel

     On the day that Phoebe was born, a great gift was given to Victor and me.  A guardian angel must have picked us to own this wonderful creature.  We had Phoebe for 12 years and 3 weeks.  She came here the second week in March of 1987.  She died in her sleep in our living room April 20, 1999.  I want to tell you she was one of a kind.  Perhaps they are all one of a kind.  She had an undying zest for everything.  She was never shy and always willing.  Phoebe's best days were when she retrieved two balls out of the lake and when she was allowed to roll three times after swimming.  She seemed to enjoy riding home a dirty mess.  She also snored so loud that no one else could sleep.  Phoebe loved dog shows so much that we would play dog show on the deck as a form of fun.   She would come up to you wherever you sat and push and push and push on your hand with her head or foot until you petted her.  She also would want to take your spot on the couch if she thought that spot was better, or if she had been comfortable there before.  I know she cannot be cloned because we have many dogs, and no two are alike.  She loved to be touched and hugged and would do anything for a hug or a cookie.

    She had a variety of health problems over her life, which I choose not to dwell on.  Her last problem was liver failure two years before her death, which we treated successfully.  I want to dwell on her everlasting spirit, which permeates this house and will do so for many years to come.  When she arrived at our home, she met her lifelong friend, Katie Jo.  Katie was quite passive, and Phoebe was more demanding of attention.  They complemented each other through the years.  Phoebe had a look that no one forgot.  She was a true classic beauty.  We knew nothing about dog shows, but when we got her, we decided to get our feet a little wet.  It is difficult to separate the story of Phoebe and Katie as they were always together and great buddies.  I will try, however.  Phoebe's first show was the Oregon specialty in July of 1987.  She placed second in a huge class of puppies, and we thought she had won the show.  We made tons of plans to return. 

    The next March Phoebe won a huge class at the specialty, and in April she won what is called a major.  This is easy, we thought.  She won almost every show we put her in, and she finished in October, 1987 at 21 months old.  She won all the shows of a three-day weekend.  We were so proud and talked of that outstanding weekend many times over.  We expected dog showing to be a piece of cake.  Little did we know that that weekend could not be matched by us again. 

    We practiced obedience a couple of weeks in the yard, and she completed a CD in three straight tries with scores over 185.  How did she know that we wanted her to do this? I have no idea.  We did not dream that she was getting old; that seemed out of the question.  The showing and the obedience and hunting were great, but for some reason we did not realize until many years later that it had little to do with us, and more to do with her great joy in doing tasks for us.  She never had professional training and just did things out of love for us.  It was not the fact that she won so often; it was the way in which she did it.  Her grace in everything was always evident.  The look in her eyes of total joy made you feel so correct.  She never sulked or was bored with anything.  I miss just her presence and the feeling that everything was possible. 

    I did not want to focus on the last part of her life, but things happened that made me do that.  She needed help to go out at about 4:00 am.  We both now listen for the telltale bark at 4:00 am that still doesn't come.  Victor has filled her food bowl for the past week.  The first week Victor always had an extra cookie left, or a piece of toast when treat time came.  She loved treats so much; perhaps she knows and will come back to get her share.  I think sometimes I still smell her, although I have tried washing her bed.  The last year she could not get to her normal bed by the front door so we made a new bed by the fireplace.  She liked to sleep by the front door just in case someone was going for a ride or a swim.  The first days the other dogs were so silent.  They were all near her at the end.  Katie would not go outside all the first day. 

   The little town we live in surprised me with the many little kindnesses.  Children stopped me at the store to say how sorry they were.  We got a card from a faculty member who was not a dog lover but saw our sorrow.  I had to reschedule my hair and dentist appointments, and when I went in later, I felt that there was great sympathy.  There was compassion in our community for us. Phoebe had made our weekly paper twice, once when she finished her championship, and once in their 10-year anniversary issue of the day Phoebe finished.  Phoebe was known nationwide, and we received many condolences from all over the country.      

   Grief is such a true emotion.  It comes in waves of sorrow and memories.  The spirit must linger a long time because we both feel her presence in all her favorite places.  Grief is a process of shock, doubt, fear, reliving and rebuilding.  We feel the finality of death.  It was her time to leave us.  We move to the future with heavy hearts at this time, but having lived through human grief, I know that time will lessen the pain.  Phoebe's memory is a jewel in the crown of our memories. 

Phoebe was buried among the pine trees with her trademark two tennis balls and many tears.

AM/CAN CH Winroc Upper Crust and Brie AM/CAN CD, WC, CGC,

One of a kind.