SHADOW: In Memoriam
updated: Dec 24, 2009, 8:29 PM

By Lee E. Heller

I used to have a bumper sticker that read, "Make Me the Person My Dog Thinks I Am." I'd like one that says, "Make Me As Good As My Dog Is." Or, more specifically, "Make Me As Good As My Dog Shadow Was."

Shadow died this week, somewhere around 15 years old (she was a shelter dog, age approximate) -- grey with wisdom, loving to the very end. She was the epitome of why so many of us love dogs, a walking lesson in how we can be better and happier. As a dog rescuer, I've known hundreds of amazing animals, and had the privilege of their love bestowed on me. But none was better than my exuberant, obedient, affectionate old Lab/Golden Retriever mix, who blessed me with her presence and acted as my teacher for 9 ½ loving years.

Here is what Shadow taught me:

The world is what you make it. Shadow greeted new people and situations with an open heart and enthusiastic expectations. She encountered everyone, at home or on beach walks, as if they were a long-lost friend: like Will Rogers, she never met a man (or woman) she didn't like. As a result, she made people feel loved and appreciated.

Meet reality bravely. There wasn't much that Shadow feared - she took on new dogs with a critical eye, quick to put them in their place if they even hinted at dominance (a behavior that, mercifully, eased with age). The only time I ever saw her flummoxed was when she met a large, unsheared, tame sheep at a friend's house: she took one look and came barreling for me, an expression on her face that said very clearly, "Holy shit! WHAT IS THAT THING?!"

Accept what you cannot change. Ok, yes, that's part of the 12-Step Serenity prayer, but if you think about it, dogs are even more in need of comfort in the face of forces beyond their control than humans are - because so many things are out of their ability to change. When they eat, where they sleep, if they get a walk or not, if they are recipients of kindness or cruelty . . . all this lies beyond their power, and so they must accept what they cannot change. They don't need the wisdom to know the difference between this and what they can change: they can't change anything.

Be good as much as you can. Shadow had her moments, God knows, but I've met few dogs, even among Border Collies, with such a strong urge to please. When she was at the shelter, she got out of her cage one day and was running around; I came around the corner (a volunteer at the time), jokingly said, "You go back in your cage right now!" . . . and watched in astonishment as she did just that - more eager to please me than to exercise her moment of freedom. When I adopted her shortly thereafter (how could I leave a dog that good at the shelter?) and took her down to the beach, I stopped to yell at one of my other dogs - and found her lying at my feet, convinced that any discipline must apply to her also. Wouldn't it be wonderful if all humans felt the same urge to do the right thing?

Look beyond the superficial. When Shadow was at the shelter, no one would adopt her - she was just another middle aged, dusty, shaggy black dog. I kept saying, "This dog is amazing" but their eyes would be elsewhere, drawn to the hyper, flashy-colored young dog bouncing off the sides of its kennel, cute, demanding . . . and way more trouble than I would want to take on. Shadow was proof that it's who you are, not your age, your color, or your pedigree, that matters.

I will miss Shadow terribly: she was a constant, patient companion, tolerant of my traveling, my infliction of visiting foster dogs and cats, my occasional bursts of temper. Through it all she embodied the lessons that I try to learn for myself, to be a better, more accepting, more courageous, wiser being. It's the least I can do, to strive to be the person she had the good grace to assume I was.

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