Gary V. Powell, Author

We lost our dog, Shelby last night. It happened so suddenly we're still not sure what exactly happened. She became disoriented and unable to move well shortly after dinner last night. We called the vet and about 8:30 decided that the best thing to do was bring in the next morning. She got progressively worse, basically falling into a deep sleep, but apparently without discomfort. Mary and I left her resting under the dining room table about 11:00 PM. I found her by her food and water dishes in the kitchen early this morning about 5:00 AM. She'd been dead several hours.

The doctor suspected a stroke.

It's been a sad day. Shelby was a friendly, loving dog who wanted most to be petted and be around the people who loved her. I was her master, not the best or most attentive, I'm sure. But, first and foremost, she was my dog, even though I tried in many ways to pawn her care off on Ashley and Reilly. Ultimately, Mary and I were with her in the end as we were in the beginning. We're pretty sure she thought she was one of us--she didn't really like other dogs much, preferring the company of people.

Mary and I decided to get a dog shortly after we bought our first house together in Davidson. We researched dogs and decided on the Springer Spaniel. It wasn't the best choice of breed for us, probably, but we made it work. I'd quit Corporate America the year before and my business seemed to be succeeding, but Mary thought I needed company on the long days I spent alone at home while she worked at the bank. We drove to Supply, NC, just south of Wilmington ten years ago this coming Labor Day to collect our puppy. She'd been born on the 4th of July.

The first few years, before Reilly came along, and later Ashley for her high school years, it was just Shelby and I for many a day. It was Mary and Shelby and I on the weekends and evenings. We invested a lot of ourselves in our little dog. She learned to sit, stay, lay down, heel, come, and sometimes fetch. I walked her three times a day and fought to keep her from eating the house. She almost succeeded.

When we moved into the Big Yellow House and Reilly was born and Ashley came to live with us, the dynamic shifted. Mary and I worked and raised kids. Shelby took a back seat, but I still managed to takje her running with me regularly and we often walked the Park. She loved nothing better. After dinner, when we relaxed on the porch or in front of the TV, she curled up next to us or on the sofa. We gave up on the sofa--it became hers a couple of years ago.

The last couple of years she slowed down. She stopped running with me two years ago, when her hips wouldn't allow her to keep up. She even had a hard time walking the Park, tiring the last half, but always wanted to go. But we changed her diet last summer and she seemed to be doing better.

We hiked Stone Mountain, the lower trail by the falls, with her on Sunday.

She had a great time for a dog.

We'll miss Shelby a lot.