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IT'S FRIDAY, MY FAVORITE DAY!!

This week I am dedicating my journal to Stanley.

We had to put Stanley down last week. It was time and he was ready.

Let me start at the beginning. When we made our annual visit to Arizona last March to see my sister and brother-in-law, we had no idea that we were going to be bringing home a Basset Hound. Jeanne and Bob were leaving for England and were going to be gone for five years and they were at a loss as to what they were going to do with their eleven-year-old dog. Nobody wanted a senior dog except their neighbor who had already too many animals on her hands. So Dave and I talked it over and found it in our hearts to adopt Stan and before you know it we were headed home with a dog in the back seat of our car watching the cactus go by.

It was quite an adjustment at first. For Stan, it was the fact that he was a desert dog moving to the damp Pacific coast and us, the challenge was not having a pet for many years. It took some re-training from all parties. But we soon became bonded and he brought joy and laughter to our hearts. Who could resist that sad-sack face and those eyes? To look at Stan you wouldn't think he was very smart, but Bassett Hounds are trainable, although on their own terms. We would tell him to sit at one place and he would meet us halfway. He WOULD sit - but where HE wanted to sit. He knew who had the soft heart and would always be sitting on the floor right beside me when we were eating at the table. I would tell him to go sit in the dining room and wait until we were done and so he would - although with his paws touching the kitchen floor and still making eye contact from the top of the table with those pleading eyes. He could count too. He knew when there were two bowls that had ice cream and would wait until both were empty before he polished them off. And I mean "polished them off", they were licked clean! He knew how to spell too., He loved his walk and even when we didn't dare mention that word but just spelled it out, Stan knew. He loved his walks and when we took him for his daily trip downtown to the Post Office, everyone wanted to stop us and pet Stan. He loved going to the park and reading his "P-Mail" too.

But, Stan got sick. A couple of weeks ago, he just quit eating. It's unheard for a Basset Hound to miss a meal, so it was obvious that something was very wrong. He became very thin but he never complained. I finally took him to the Veterinarian and after a thorough examination and blood tests; he was diagnosed as having a tumor on his spleen. At Stanley's age, it was considered inoperable because he would never had made it through that very difficult surgery. So, we lost him a week ago Thursday. I didn't say anything in last week's journal because I couldn't contact my sister, and couldn't have said anything without her knowing. It wasn't until she got home to Exeter that we were finally able to break the news to her.

So Stan has gone and it is lonely around here without him but he has left his paw print on my heart and I will never forget him.