Goodbye Mocha

If memory serves and I get the story right: Sheba and Mocha were two Dobermans involved in a terrible case of animal cruelty. Their owner went to jail for what he did to them, a rare enough thing to spell out the level of damage inflicted. They went to the humane society. Being unstable and mad with fear, they were deemed unfit for adoption and so fostering was tried to see if the "wild dogs" could learn trust, or if they would have to be destroyed. My friends K. and R. took them into their home where they already had two large dogs; Ami (miss wiggle pig to her friends) who was a breeder bitch from a puppy mill used to collapse and abandoned and Bear (poster child for Rottweilers) who was massive and loving and loved to play with flashlights. From K. and R., the Dobermans learned people can be good. From Ami, they learned that abuse can end and still leave room for love. From Bear, I imagine, they learned that big scary dogs are allowed to play and be friendly. K. and R. kept them to be sure they'd have the best life possible. All four dogs lived together with my friends, their cats, iguana's, birds, and occasional stray humans. I was a stray human for a while. I remember well that all four dogs were also convinced they were of the lap variety, vying for space on guests whenever we sat down. The dogs each were loved for their distinct personalities. Time passed and Ami had a stroke, Bear developed bone cancer, Sheba grew random tumours and all were lovingly, thoughtfully surrendered from life. Mocha, it seems, is the last with a tumour and a euthanasia at home scheduled for whenever she stops having fun. She has had an excellent life with friends, becoming the best dog it was possible for her to be. She's had a fabulous dog life full of ponds, running acres, friends and treats. She is lucky that she's with people who have the grace and strength to end her pain. But I'll miss her, very much. She's one dog dying, she's the end of a pack I grew to love and be part of, she's a time when I was closer to my friends than schedules and geography now permit, she's the close of a powerful story of compassion triumphing over viciousness in humans. She was a part of my life, and I'm grateful for that. I'm better for having known her.