First there was Bruno. A medium-size mutt who looked a bit like a miniature collie. He belonged to my grandmother, and when she died, Bruno became mine. I was ten.. The first funeral I attended was that of my Grandmother. I remember black patent leather shoes and a coffin. Bruno would climb over the chain-link fence in our backyard, run off to the woods, and return home smelling like skunk. Eventually he was struck by a vehicle, and when he died I was devastated. I was fourteen. My mother hugged me and said, “time heals all wounds,” that ridiculous cliché. That was so unlike her.

Then came Sniffles, whom I adopted while I was in my first year of graduate school, just before I slipped into the final stage of a major depression. My friend Mary had said, “Nettie. you need something to take care of.”  Shortly after Sniffles’ adoption from the Kentucky Humane Society, I withdrew from school, returned home to my mother, and slept 20 hours per day in her bed for a month. During the other four hours I sat at her kitchen table, silent. Sniffles was a beautiful white-haired medium-size mixed Terrier. He spent hours stalking squirrels among the giant Oaks along Eastern Parkway, moving one paw at a time. Most of his stalking consisted of stillness.  He was six when we began having children and mysteriously appears in every family photograph. All five of us were there when we put him down. I refer to him as Mythic Sniffles.

We adopted Blue from the Jefferson County Animal Shelter. Supposedly a corgi/border collie mix, and he was terrified of fireworks and storms. Every Sunday we’d hike within the Mount St. Francis Nature Sanctuary, and when I missed our turn he would stop, demanding I go the right direction. When he heard gun shots from surrounding properties, he would turn around, occasionally looking back over his left shoulder to confirm that I was following him home. At the age of seven he was diagnosed with a brain tumor. The seizures were horrific. All five of us were there when we put him down. Bubby Little Buddy Blue.

Half Pitbull, half Great Pyrenees, Lexi was adopted from the Woodstock Animal Foundation in Lexington, Kentucky. She is a big white dog with a big personality and is the most social member of our family. She has one solid black ear and the other ear is polka dotted. A large black heart appears on her right side. Sometimes she finds herself in trouble when she goes off trail at The Mount, but she is surprisingly adept at following directional gestures. She drools, snores, drips water on my hardwood floors, rolls in wild animal dung, and is more stubborn than I am. When she dies I will be devastated, and my mother will not be here to console me.