Nori by Sharon / Your Mom

In 1995, I agreed to drive to New Jersey to pick up a Gordon Setter with a bad situation and a bad reputation. I didn’t know much about her other than that no one else could go and get her in a timely fashion. I had two dogs, two cats and just enough room for one more for fostering. She was to stay with me for three days until the folks at rescue could organize something more permanent for her.

The story was that she was a breeders dog who didn’t get along. She was adopted and returned, adopted and returned again. She somehow ended up at a veterinarians office with no place left to go. I believe another possible home returned her. She was picked up by Irish Rescue, who contacted Gordon Rescue.

And so my trip to get her on a rainy Saturday afternoon…

It had been reported that she was not housebroken, an escape artist and not possessed of the sunniest disposition. She was evidently not great with other dogs and not very friendly. After making small talk with the folks who were holding her, I put her in the back of my Toyota and hoped for the best. We spent the next several hours trying to find our way home (Magellan I’m not). I remember we listened to the Grateful Dead Hour on WXPN. As I checked the rear view mirror throughout the trip, she sat facing forward, regarding me with interest. She responded to my gentle questioning with a cheerful thump of her tail.

When we got back to Philadelphia, we met my other dogs at the park. She interacted with them well after a few moments of introduction and was soon playing. At home, she followed “the boys” out to the garden to do her business. Later, she followed us upstairs to bed, happily joining the pile of dogs on the floor and fell asleep.

Maybe I picked up the wrong dog.

She was beautiful. She had a fine, intelligent face and a calm disposition. She was a welcome change from my rowdy and crazy boys. She followed me everywhere and seemed pleased as punch just to be.

I realized that her place was with me. The reason she hadn’t been exhibiting any of the negative behaviors was clear – she thought she was home.

It’s been almost twelve years now and our three days are almost up.

begin the process of letting her go. She has been of one of the most magnificent beings to share my life.

She has taught me to live with quiet grace, to listen intently when someone I love is speaking, to be comfortable in my own skin and to regard the world with interest and optimism because, as she sees it, one can always look forward to dinner and a walk.

My lovely old girl, go easy. I don’t want to write her eulogy as she slumbers at my feet, but I know I need to


With Love,