Wanted to post this on Nancy's site, but it seemed I had to create some other account, and I wasn't into that. So, I post here what I initially wrote there.

My brother put down his Tess, a wonderful being who relished her 11 or so years here in Oregon.

On Tess' last night, she enjoyed a grilled steak and got to sleep in bed with her owners. The following morning, my brother, Pat, took her to work with him, a position in these, her later years, usually reserved for Jasper, the younger, stronger, male, black lab. She barked at everything and everybody.

At lunch, Pat and Tess returned home. Both were finishing up lunch when the vet arrived at their semi-rural house between Bend and Redmond. Tess rested her head in "her momma's" lap, and the vet pushed the plunger on the syringe.

She died quickly and easily, looking up at the faces of the humans who loved her and who she loved. Pat dug a grave near a space on their property from which Tess loved to bark at the jackrabbits beyond the fence and the pickup trucks kicking up laterite on the washboard road.

The grave was lined with river rock; next to her was placed her favorite toy--a green rubber squeaky frog. Pat's eight-year old daughter, Georgia Rose, added a bouquet of plastic flowers, and the family said their final goodbyes to Tess.

Like I said, she was a wonderful "being" and truly so much more than a pet dog. It's funny how our relationships with non-humans can be so impactful. Occasionally, more than the human relationships. I, too, loved Tess, and so I empathize with Nancy.