An Obituary for Our Dog Miss Glorie Hallelujah

Our Hearts are broken.  We just returned from the Veterinarian's office where our sweet girl was put to sleep after a short bout with cancer.

Her Story

"If we go in there we will go home with a dog" PJ warned me as we sat in the parking lot of the City Pound Adoption Center.  

"Not necessarily" I replied way too confidently. 

But after we walked in the door and were eventually escorted to a large room full of cages I felt more confident we would go back to our calm and orderly home alone. The roar of the dogs vying for our attention and the frantic gymnastics they were performing left me unmoved.
But you know how an elementary school teacher will whisper to get the children's attention?  That tactic worked on us and when we turned around-- there she was silently, sitting politely in her cage with eyes that whispered  "Can we just go home now?  This place is killing me."

How could we resist those eyes? We did take her home and PJ was right once again.
We named her Glorie Hallelujah Honeycutt because it had been two long years since our dogs BJ Honeycutt and Sam Pickens had moved to heaven and we were so elated to have a dog  fill our hearts and home with puppy love  we cried "Glory Hallelujah we have a dog!"
She mostly slept the first couple of weeks recovering from the trauma of being kept at the city pound for five months, having a liter of puppies she couldn't keep and a life threatening course of heart-worm treatment. We thought she was sedate but  we later came to realize  -  she was depressed.
One bright morning she woke up and felt  assured she was safe, loved and on the gravy train. Her eyes brightened up and then she began to zoom around like Road Runner's long lost cousin.
Her Personal Trainer -- what you don't have one she asks - said it was critical for her to get enough exercise because her breed (Walker Hound) was bred to hunt full throttle all night.  I knew we were in trouble when one day she was trotting me past the park and an old country gentleman looked at her and then said to me "I've never seen one of those dogs as a pet!"
"There's a reason for that!" I yelled back over my shoulder as we flew past.
The agent at the pound had said that she more than likely was  a reject from a puppy mill for hunters up in South Georgia. * "If the dog isn't  predisposed to hunt they either shoot them or throw them out on the highway."
So Glorie came to us after living more than three years on the streets.    She was uhhhhhh how can we say this... a little rough around the edges.  We could have named her Snookie but we named her on faith in her future and with gratitude.
At first she tried to attack any Lab or Golden Retriever we came upon. There must have been some bad history there.  
She ran out every door not securely fastened and headed straight for the garbage in the park.  "Nothing tastes like home to a dog raised on the mean streets like garbage does".   
Just to make the situation even more 'interesting' she decided that she couldn't - just couldn't possibly go to the bathroom in the best yard she'd ever lived in.  So morning noon and night Glorie became our own built in exercise program.  "See America -- Adopt a Walker Hound".
Oh, but she adapted quickly to living in the right zip code.  She'd get shampoo and sets at her new private dog park where she could run unfettered around the eleven fenced acres of trails, ponds, and fountains. She learned how to rub elbows with other fancier dogs who modeled tasteful behavior.  She evolved into our version of My Fair Lady.
Here are some of the things she taught us:

*Take time to smell (fill in the blank) the roses, telephone poles, fire hydrants and neighborhood dog's butts

*Sit like a lady and  cross your legs delicately (are you reading this Tina Turner?)

*Welcome the stranger.  She might not have been thrilled when we took in a dog nobody else wanted (with good reason) but she tolerated his presence along with the variety of ducks* who populate our front yard and two feral cats who invited themselves to the orphanage.

*Make room on the couch.  There's a reason they call it the den.

*If you’re happy and you know it –notify your face - or tail, whatever! Life is too short to be a closed book.  
*Just understand we’re all in this together (neighbors, dogs, ducks, cats, mailmen)

*Let the world know – here you come!  She never left the house without howling with glee "Here I come!  Here I come!" just knowing it would be great news to anyone in listening area.

The loss of a source of unconditional love and forgiveness is a wound that cuts straight to your heart.  It might seem logical and wise to avoid the heartbreak all together but don't do it.  You'll miss your opportunity to say 

"Glorie Hallelujah we had a dog!"