This has been a hard week. Our beloved German Shepherd, Jenny, has died. There really aren’t words to describe this exquisite creature. Dark eyes that danced and snapped with delight. A joyous and infectious doggie grin, and boundless, graceful energy that left me breathless and in awe, all at the same time. I couldn’t keep up with her, but then I didn’t have to. Because when I would lag behind, she would come racing back to be by my side. Lord Byron said it better than I ever could. The following verse is inscribed on a monument where his dog Boatswain is buried, and where he, himself, intended to rest. I would say the same of Jenny.
“Near this spot
Are deposited the Remains of one
Who possessed Beauty without Vanity,
Strength without Insolence,
Courage without Ferocity,
And all the Virtues of Man without his Vices.
This Praise, which would be unmeaning Flattery
If inscribed over human ashes,
Is but a just tribute to the Memory of
BOATSWAIN, a Dog,
Who was born at Newfoundland, May, 1803,
And died at Newstead Abbey, Nov. 18, 1808.”