White Dog held the rest of the White Dog Army at full stay as Steve brought in the freshly bathed and dried body and laid it on the shroud spread on the bedtop. I kissed her head and softly stroked her cheek. "Be at peace Anya," I whispered. "Know you are one of us forever and that you are loved and cherished always. You were a joy and a blessing." With that, Steve took off Anya's collar and tags and we wrapped her in the blanket.
The White Dogs each came forward to sniff and say their messages of Godspeed; all then followed us as we carried her to the van for her final ride.
Anya did not make it through the night. She suffered a massive hemorrhage and was gone. I held her right before bedtime. She and I spoke our last thoughts to each other and I knew then that the morning would dawn without color or song.And sure enough, it was raining.
We are this day, together trying to understand that which can not really be understood and trying to figure out how to turn our feelings of grief into a celebration of our spunky little girl with so many challenges who calmly walked into our hearts and changed us.
Always, Anya Marie Sehi-Smith, Curious White Dog (CWD) and peace. We know you have been met by your angel siblings of the heavenly White Dog Army waiting with fresh salmon and welcomes.