It is with emotional devastation that I share the news of Phoebe's death; it was especially painful because we had lost Tilly in April. I wasn't emotionally prepared to lose another beloved dog, and Phoebe went downhill so fast that I was again pretty much caught unprepared. I spent most of Christmas night just holding her and loving her, but she died the next morning while I was showering (early, so I could call the vet's office as soon as they opened). I brought her into this world too few years ago, and I wanted to hold her when her time came to leave us, so I feel robbed and guilty for missing those last few minutes.

She had a wonderful life, and was always happy. She wasn't the brightest crayon in the box, but she always had the brightest outlook: she was ALWAYS wagging! While her 'accomplishments' in the outside world were few (only minor pointed, as she did not enjoy showing, and I didn't push her), she had her role in life: she could always be counted upon to bring a smile to anyone, just by her happy demeanor and that ever-wagging tail.

"Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim." I spent a long time just trying to swim in the tears of my sadness.