Star’s was a life well lived

Right now, the pain is relentless. It’s indescribable. But I don’t have to put it into words because if you have ever lost a beloved family pet, I know you understand.

Star – an Australian Cattle Dog who was as perfect a fit for our family as any dog could possibly be – died this week at the age of 14.

It happened so fast. Last Monday, Star seemed as healthy as can be. My wife and I took her for our daily evening walk. At the bank, the teller had a treat for Star. So did the clerk at the hardware store. Everybody in the neighborhood knew and loved Star. How could you not?

Tuesday morning, she threw up. When I got home from work, she didn’t want her afternoon treat. Wednesday she threw up again. The vet did tests. Her kidneys were failing. And, in an instant, our world was turned upside-down.

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Over fourteen years ago, we were looking for a new family member. I mentioned on the show that we had been visiting shelters. I asked listeners to NOT try to get me to adopt their dog. We’ve always believed in rescuing dogs from shelters. But one listener defied my request and brought this incredible bundle of love and joy into our lives.

We had a short list of criteria for our new dog. It had to be a runner so it could join my wife and our girls on their daily runs. It had to love wrestling on the floor with me. And it had to be a fierce protector of our daughters.

The listener sent me a picture of their 3-month-old puppy. It couldn’t have been cuter. And it looked like she would fit all our criteria. So on a foggy fall evening, we drove out to Marysville and fell in love.

Star started life as a therapy dog. The family who was offering her to us had a daughter who had battled anorexia. As I understand it, patients recovering from an eating disorder find it helpful to have a puppy that they keep on a regular eating schedule. That’s what Star did at soon as she came into this world – she was literally born to serve, to help, to love. The daughter was doing so well, she was able to go off to college. But her parents were going to move out of state to be near their recovering daughter. So they had to find a home for their dog. And so this blessing came into our lives.

The next summer, Star once again displayed all of her amazing qualities to us. One of our daughters wanted to have a sleepover. She and her friends wanted to sleep outside on the deck. Being nervous parents, my wife and I agreed as long as Star slept with them to be their protector. That night, Star showed how incredibly special she was. Around midnight, I looked out the window to see how the kids were doing. I expected to see Star curled up on one of their sleeping bags. But instead, I saw Star slowly walking the length of the deck alongside the railing. She was staring out into the darkness like a guard on sentry duty.

Before going to bed around 2 a.m., I looked out at the girls. Again, there was Star – pacing, watching, protecting.

I got up to go to the bathroom around 4 a.m. Surely Star would be asleep by then. Nope. She continued to stalk the length of the deck. She had a job to do.

When my wife got up at 6 a.m. and she saw the exact same thing.

At 8 a.m., we called the girls in for breakfast. Star followed them into the house and collapsed on the floor where she would sleep for most of the next ten hours. The kids were safe. Her work was done.

Over the years, we noticed something else remarkable about Star. Our girls’ three bedroom doors formed a triangle in our upstairs hallway. When all three girls were home, Star would sleep in the middle of the hallway precisely in the middle of that triangle. If one daughter was away for the night or off to college, Star would sleep right in the middle of the line between the two occupied bedroom doors. If one daughter was out late, Star would sleep on the landing on the stairs going upstairs. From there, she could see the occupied upstairs bedroom – but she could also see the front door while dutifully waiting for the last straggler in her flock to come home.

There are so many things I already miss. For the first time in 15 years, when I drop food on the floor I actually have to pick it up myself. When I would play the piano, Star would use her nose to push open the door to our library and lay right under the piano. One of her only faults was having no musical taste.

Almost every night she would bark in her sleep. Man, I wish I knew what those dreams were about. I have no idea who is now going to eat my pizza crusts.

On Sunday, my family and I walked to the grocery store. I could not remember ever making that walk without Star. A family walk suddenly seemed quite empty. At times, the pain is overwhelming. But, as SI’s Peter King once wrote when he lost his dog, “The easiest way to not feel this grief is to never have a dog. And what an empty life that would be.”

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On Monday night, we brought Star home from a five-day stay at the doggie hospital. We wanted her last day to be in the home – and with the people – that she had seen as her life mission to protect.

On Tuesday, before going off to work… going off to college … our daughters, who were in town, said goodbye to the family member with whom they had grown up.

I noticed something interesting. With her failing kidneys, the toxins were building up in Star’s body. She was really sick. But every time someone got down on the floor to scratch her head, she managed a thump – a wag – of her tail. All those toxins couldn’t poison out the love.

After nearly 15 years of giving our family everything she had to give, Star suddenly, shockingly is gone. Her name now seems so appropriate. I cannot imagine a brighter, shining light than our Star. She came into the world healing the sick. She lived every day as our protector, our running partner, our Sea-Doo companion, our food-scrap-canine-vacuum. Every day was filled with giving – and receiving – pure love.

And that is a life well lived.