Molly was a castoff from a single mom who couldn’t give the gentle dog enough attention and didn’t want to deal in impending puppies. She died on the vet’s table during the spaying procedure, her unknown hemophilia becoming apparent too late.
Peggy started life as the last of Molly’s seven puppies, just barely weaned when she was orphaned. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, she was very affectionate, my father’s faithful companion as he mapped out pioneer graves. She too died peacefully, of old age.
Nellie was featured in the local paper as the Humane Society’s pet of the week, shortly after Peggy’s death. A small, quiet Australian Shepherd (like all her predecessors), she was the perfect dog for my father’s declining years. Her favorite place was by his side, quietly waiting—even under his pew at church.
From overseas, I hear news of tainted pet food: wheat gluten, and now rice protein concentrate, contaminated with the chemical melamine, linked to the death of 16 animals. The list of brand names is 54 long, each one representing several types: literally hundreds of kinds are affected, with rebranding making the web more difficult to untangle. Our industrialized model harms not only us, but also those we love and protect. Yes, they are “only” pets, but the mounting numbers, each with a story behind them, must serve as (yet another) wakeup call. Had this been baby formula or Ensure, our grief would not go so quietly.
Nellie became ill suddenly and inexplicably. She died at the vet’s, quite unexpectedly and many years before her time. My mother’s grief at the loss of husband and elderly cat is compounded. No, Nellie is not counted in the official number, but she counted to us.
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