During her rehabilitation, the Sheltie was lovingly fostered by an MHS volunteer who brought her to the shelter while she worked in adoptions. On my volunteer days in the behavior and training department, I “borrowed” her and kept her with me in my office. Along with lots of petting, we had heart-to-heart “conversations” and took short walks around the shelter together. By the time she was available for adoption, we had formed a strong bond. I happily signed the adoption papers and brought her home.

I named her Scarlett, because like the heroine from Gone with the Wind, this girl was a survivor.

Eventually, Scarlett’s coat grew back a lush, reddish sable. My ugly duckling had turned into a real beauty. She fit into my household as if she had always lived there. Never a lap dog, Scarlett nevertheless craved affection, and neck massages sent her into ecstatic wiggles.

I regularly brought Scarlett with me to the shelter, where she, too, became a volunteer. Her gentle greeting skills helped comfort shy and nervous dogs; eventually Scarlett became a fixture in the behavior and training department. She remained by co-volunteer at the shelter up until a few days before she died.

Though deaf, at 14 years old Scarlett was healthy and content. Then, quite suddenly, she became ill. Blood tests revealed advanced, irreversible kidney failure. Treatment might have bought her a few more weeks, but I refused to put her through any pain or fear. She had suffered more than enough in her lifetime. Tearfully, I gave her my final loving gift. I had her painlessly put to sleep. I was massaging her neck as she died.

Looking back on her life with me, I know I did all that I could to make those nine years together as happy as possible. I kept her safe and gave her love – lots of love, a comfortable home, a warm bed (with doggie PJ’s for cold nights), top quality food and excellent veterinary care. I walked her – well, most days, anyhow – though I could have been more patient when she stopped to sniff…and sniff…and sniff. To stimulate her lively mind, I took her to classes at the Humane Society, from beginning to advanced, then on to the fun stuff, like agility and tricks classes. Every time, she strained at her leash in her eagerness to get to class.

Years later, when her deafness had become total and her naps had grown longer and deeper, I suspected depression. On a whim, I enrolled her in a beginning class, communicating through hand signals. She was so overcome with delight; she offered her entire repertoire of tricks. The joy this brought to her silent world extended to her life at home, where she became more alert, even playful. I highly recommend this to anyone whose healthy, elderly dog seems lethargic, but may be depressed or just plain bored.

Her difficult early years long forgotten, Scarlett had what many of us would wish for ourselves, as well as our pets – a long, happy life, a short illness and a gentle, loving exit.

Gerry Holcomb is a behavior & training volunteer at the Marin Humane Society, which contributes Tails of Marin articles.

Contact loveanimals@marinhumanesociety.org or write to Tails of Marin, 171 Bel Marin Keys Blvd. Novato, CA 94949. For more information, call 883-4621 or visit MarinHumaneSociety.org.

Tails of Marin appears every Saturday in the Home & Garden section of the Marin Independent Journal