A month ago, I had to help Thor leave his body, crippled and in pain from bone cancer. It was a sixteen month journey from the time he first broke his leg. During that time, we bonded in an even deeper way. He was incredibly loving and affectionate. And courageous. He was a og who loved to run in the forest and on the beach. His favorite moments were wading the creek. I called it his daily meditation. He mastered his splint --running and jumping off logs, while I would catch my breath in horror.
He even broke one of the splints in half. When he had just three working legs, he would hop along with us as best he could. Finally he could no longer leave the house. I am still crying as I write this, but he was so full of love right to the end and crossed over very gently to be with his partner, Light'n.
You rescued him from "death row" at the Walla Walla pound when they called you and said they had a beautiful dog they couldn't bear to put down. Probaly he rolled his eyes at them, smiled, and held out his paw for a shake--the way he always greeted people. He was with you a year, before I came--not for him, at all, but for another dog. Light'n chose him. And they were partners for six years until she died. The cutest thing in the world was watching them dance in the main room.
He was probably about 11 when he died. I will miss my special "Border-husk" forever-- and am so grateful for his loving presence and joy in my life.
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