Hi Marsha,

I still remember the night our black lab mix died, though it's 8 years ago now. She and I were out for a walk in the snow. She had been very frisky as she loved to play in snow. it was a cold night, and as I walked, she'd been jumping into big piles of snow. Her usual antics. Always fun to watch. When she did this she was like a puppy again, even though she was actually about 10.

When we were about a block from home, she sat down on the sidewalk and wouldn't move. After much urging on my part, I knew something was terribly wrong, and that I was either going to have to carry this 40 pound dog home -- or leave her alone in the cold and go get our old sled.

I tried the carrying thing, but she was totally ungainly. So since I could see the house from where we were, I told her to be a good dog while I went to get help.

I ran home for the sled and a blanket, wrapped her up in it and pulled the sled home. I couldn't carry her up the front steps, so I got my husband to pull the sled up the stairs, while I stayed alongside her, steadying her on the sled. (My husband wears leg braces and this was the most he was physically able to do.)

Once in the house, I carried her into our bedroom,and made a nest for her by the sliding glass door -- one of her favorite places to "hang out" due to its good visibility of the neighborhood. I brought her water as well.

She lasted another 24 hours. By the next evening, when she has refused to eat or move, I realized she needed to go to the vet. We took her to the vet in town that was open 24/7, not our usual vet. I got help from a neighbor to get her into the car, and I believe she died in the car on the way to the vet.

The vet told me something had happened to the sac that surrounds her heart. I don't understand the details, but I am guessing it was something like a heart attack brought on by doing something she loved -- cavorting in the snow...

Losing Lucky was as awful as losing a child or a parent, and as she had been my shadow companion for at least five years, I was so distraught.

All I can tell you, Marsha, is that I share your pain, and it will ease with the passage of time, though you will not ever forget Shadow.

Blessings to you and your family. Write us here if you need to talk more about this.